Countless German communities celebrate carnival in some shape or form. A handful of cities pull out all the stops. Along with Cologne and Düsseldorf, Mainz is considered one of the country’s carnival strongholds. A steady drip of festivities kick off on Nov. 11 and keep the city hopping until Rose Monday, which falls on March 4 in 2019.

From 11:11 a.m. on this day, an outsized parade will slowly snake its way through Mainz’s city center, and close to half a million viewers will turn out, rain or shine, to view it. It takes over three hours to watch all the floats, marching bands and costumed dance groups to traverse a four-mile route through the heart of the city and past city landmarks including the vast cathedral, stately theater and Schiller Square.

First-time visitors to Germany are bound to encounter some jaw-dropping scenes. Obviously inebriated adults in costume continue to drink like there’s no tomorrow as their semi-supervised children dart dangerously close to the wheels of floats in pursuit of the sweet treats being tossed their way. The scene on the street is much at odds with the highly organized and traditional parade unfolding before your eyes. To come to grips with the essence of that makes Mainz’s Fastnacht celebrations unique, and to appreciate a day out in the fray in a whole new way, the following background information might come in handy.

Mainz has been doing this for a while now: The main features of today’s celebrations haven’t changed much since 1838, when the Mainz Carnival Association first assumed the duties of organizing Rose Monday Festivities. They’re still at it today, serving as the umbrella organization coordinating the activities of the dozens of participating clubs.

It’s all about mocking the French: Mainz’s carnival became a platform for political statement at the start of the 19th century, when French troops occupied the city and the locals used carnival as a chance to mock their rules, uniforms and attitudes toward the local population. To date, Mainz’s festivities are known for their heavy emphasis on literary and political satire.

Everyone gets into the act: Even the city’s most famous son, inventor of movable type Johannes Gutenberg, celebrates carnival. When festivities reach their peak, his statue across from the theater is adorned with a Narrenkappe, or fool’s hat. Such hats symbolize membership in a carnival club, and traditionally helped club members recognize their own and quickly spot an interloper.

French symbolism abounds today: Mainz’s four carnival colors are red, white, blue and gold, the former three deriving from the color of the French tricolor flag and the yellow, it is claimed, representing either the gold buttons and adornments of troop uniforms or the Catholic church. The typical carnival greeting, “Helau,” is a mockery of a military salute. The number 11 is an important part of carnival festivities well beyond Mainz, but here, some claim the number, pronounced e-l-f in German, stands for Égalité, Liberté, Fraternité (Equality, Liberty, Fraternity), the initials sewn onto the caps of the city’s occupiers.

Floats poke fun at local, national and international events: Nothing is sacred when it comes to the social commentary expressed in the floats. The church, politicians, financial scandals, building projects gone awry: much is to be learned about issues occupying the minds of the local population by paying attention to the themes of the floats! And the U.S. getting skewered is nothing new under the sun, so don’t take anything you see here too personally.

Mainz’s parade has some unique characters: Figures you won’t see elsewhere include the Schwellköpp, or fatheads. These huge papier-mâché heads weighing over 50 pounds each poke fun at the outer appearance of Mainz’s citizens. The company of figures is about 30 strong, male and female, and each has a name. Many of the marching groups are part of formations known as guards, and they wear uniforms reminiscent of those worn by the Austrian, Prussian, and French troops in the first half of the nineteenth century. Members of the Klepper-Garde are easy to recognize: they’re the ones in their distinctive red, white, blue and yellow fringed uniforms.

Buy the zugplakette: Vendors will be out and about selling small plastic figures on a red and white string to be worn around one’s neck. This year’s figure is a smiling, red-nosed member of the guard with outstretched hands, wearing a dapper uniform. Buy him and take him home. You’re not only getting a great souvenir of the day, but proceeds from the sales of these figures also offset the organizational costs of the parade.

Know and Go: If you’re forced to work on Rose Monday, don’t despair. Mainz is abuzz throughout the weekend leading up to the day. Festivities stretch from the Rhine, past the cathedral and on to the Schillerplatz, so it never hurts to venture by to see what’s happening at any given time. Leave glass bottles at home, but do wear a costume and paint your face. Small children are apt to find the tone of much of the festivities overwhelming. For a schedule of what’s happening when, refer to the Mainzer Fastnacht website.

Check out the floats beforehand: From 1:11 p.m. March 3, the floats will be parked up near the Schillerplatz, allowing visitors a good look at them while they’re not in motion.

Carnival year round: A visit to the Mainzer Fastnachtsmuseum, or Mainz Carnival Museum, is a walk through not only the history of carnival, but Mainz itself. Old black and white photographs of parades that took place over a century ago and through times good and bad ever since, uniforms, the big heads, video clips and much more make a visit to this museum worth its 2.50 euro entry fee several times over. The exhibits are in German, but a two-page handout in English gives you a good overview of what it’s all about, and the volunteer staffers speak English well enough to tell you what any given exposition is all about, if only you should ask.