Sechseläuten and the burning of the Böögg

The doomed Böögg was escorted to its pyre
at the end of yesterday's Children's Parade

There's one tradition connected with Sachseläuten that I haven't mentioned yet: the burning of the Böögg.

Each year on this holiday, the people of Zürich set fire to a stuffed snowman, essentially burning winter in effigy.  And the faster this Böögg burns, they say, the warmer and more beautiful the summer will be.  The clock starts when the pyre is lit at 6:00 by the chimes of Fraumünster and stops when the Böögg's firework-impregnated head explodes.

This tradition wasn't actually joined with Sechseläuten until the early 1900s: it used to be associated more with May Day. But now it seems to be the most important part of the holiday: in fact, when the Swiss explained the holiday to me, the Böögg was the only thing they mentioned, leading me to wonder why the kids were getting a day off from school for what was, essentially, the Swiss version of Groundhog Day.

Sechseläuten cakes in the window of Sprüngli

We headed downtown to see the 3:00 parade just a little after 2:30, but one look at Bahnhofstrasse told us that this parade would be a little different from those we've seen previously.  The entire main street was lined with barricades and benches, two deep, for prepaid reserved seating.  The kids were hoping for a closer view of the parade, so we left the beginning of the parade route and walked toward the end of the loop, assuming that the benches were only on the prime viewing space of Zürich's most famous street.

We stopped first at Sechseläutenplatz to see the preparations for the Böögg's execution.

They were still building the pyre with cranes
as we watched.

And then we walked along the end of the route, dismayed to find that the entire route (over 3 kilometers) seemed to be lined with those two-deep benches.  And it was lined with people, too, standing behind those benches, sometimes two or three deep.

Crowds!

So this was a bigger deal than we thought.

We were hoping for a shady space right next to the route; instead, we held our kids on our shoulders as the sun pounded on all our heads.  Needless to say, we didn't stay for the whole parade.  The kids were especially disappointed (but more willing to leave) when they realized they wouldn't be heading home with pockets full of sugar.

Members of the Zunft zum Weggen, having a wonderful time.

In the 1900s, those trade guilds of Zürich were joined by 14 new guilds, representing former villages that were annexed into Zürich. All 26 of these guilds now parade through the city on Sechseläuten, each with its own band and some sort of a float or truck. But the bulk of the parade is the costumed members of the guild, walking through the street. As they passed their friends and family lining the street, these spectators would rush to them with a kiss and a flower or bouquet to add to their loaded arms.

"So it's a backwards parade?" Ella asked, "They don't throw candy? We're supposed to give them something, instead?  I don't know about this."

Although there were a few treats thrown into the crowds: the bakers had little rolls that they  chucked at the crowds, trying to outdo each other by throwing rolls into the open windows of those lucky enough to live on the parade route.

We stayed long enough to watch the Zunft zum Weggen (the bakers and millers) and the Zunft zur Schneidern (the tailors) pass by, but really it was a little too much for the kids.  We headed back toward Bahnhofstrasse, expecting that the parade would be nearly over (it was already an hour after we started), but we were surprised to see that the parade was still going strong, and the crowds were thicker than ever.

Still, it seemed that heading home was the best idea, but home was on the opposite side of the parade route.  So we joined the crush of people waiting  to cross the route whenever there was a gap in the procession, which was rare, as the parade looped back on itself on Bahnhofstrasse, so there were two lines of parade to cross.  After about ten minutes of standing in impatient crowds, we were able to get cross, not quite avoiding all of the horse poop on the street.

At home, we turned on the local news for the first time since we've been here, and we found that the station's cameras were right next to where we'd first been watching the parade.  And even though it took us a half-hour to get home, we were able to pick up watching the parade exactly where we left off when we bailed on Bahnhofstrasse.

Our friends, who ended up staying behind to get some dinner, said that the procession on Bahnhofstrasse didn't end until 6:07, well after the Böögg had been lit. A three-hour parade!

Well, here's a minute of it, for those with attention spans as short as ours, with some footage of the bakers and tailors.

We were all much happier watching the festival from home, and the kids did their best to get into the spirt of the holiday.  As the clock counted down, New Year's Eve-style, to 6:00, Alex asked, earnestly, "Is this the excitingest thing you've ever seen, Mom?"

Ella did her best to try to understand exactly how this Böögg-burning worked: "Does it affect how long our summer vacation will be? No? So, does it mean that, like, every minute of burning means another day of winter? Or another five days of winter?"  She wouldn't accept that there was no science behind the burning of the Böögg.

But I enjoyed Joey's reaction most of all, as they lit they pyre:

"Oh no! Snowman!"