Ptuj’s Kurentovanje
Ben Curtis | benjamincurtis.me
Move over, Mardi Gras. Slow down that samba, Rio de Janeiro. There’s another Lenten carnival that’s just as fun a party—plus it’s got monsters. I’m talking about Ptuj’s kurentovanje.
I know those last two words might not make sense, let alone be pronounceable, for almost anybody. So let me start with Ptuj, and I’ll get to the monsters later.
Ptuj (say it “Ptooee”) is a lovely small city in northeastern Slovenia. It’s actually one of the oldest settlements in this part of the world, going back to the Stone Age, though its present-day moniker comes from its time as the Roman town of Poetovio. Crowned by a castle, with lots of nice Habsburg-era architecture and a commanding location on the Drava River, it’s a little gem that few English-speaking visitors ever see.
Ptuj
Image | Yonashek
Besides these low-key charms, what really makes Ptuj worth visiting is the one time a year it gets rowdy. This happens roughly a week before Ash Wednesday when the normally pretty staid Slovenes let it all hang out. That means parades and processions every day through the center of town, followed by partying, drinking, and more partying every night. And you have to dress up in costume: it’s not nearly as fun if you just go as yourself.
My friends in Ptuj, as just one example, have a whole room in their house full of costumes that they’ve accumulated over the years. So you hit the bars in your pirate garb one night, then looking like a French mime the next night, lather, rinse, repeat. Since Ptuj isn’t that big, you’re going to run into all your neighbors, and will see how they’ve dressed up themselves and their kids. It’s a little like Halloween, but not quite so ghoulish.
The weekend of Shrove Sunday is the main event. One thing you must do is head out to some of the villages surrounding Ptuj, since several have their own parades. You’ll see the traditional characters like the rusa (reminiscent of a pantomime horse), the pokači (dudes who snap big long whips), the cockerels (who will make your chickens productive!), fairies, and, perhaps not so politically correct these days, gypsies. It’s fun, funny, and (for the ethnographically minded), an incredible display of colorful customs and traditions. A particularly charming aspect of these village parades is that many locals set up little tables in front of their houses where you can try their homemade schnapps, sausages, marmalades, and all sorts of other goodies.
A village parade
Image | MarySloA
What has made Ptuj’s carnival (and given it its name) famous—and gotten it inscribed on UNESCO’s list of the world’s greatest intangible cultural heritage—are the kurenti. These are the monsters I mentioned. Well, they look like monsters: they are guys (traditionally only unmarried men, but now anybody) wearing these scary costumes made of sheepskins, with feathers and horns sprouting from their heads. They also wear a chain of cow bells, and wield a club covered at one end with hedgehog skin. When a herd of kurenti are coming—whether in one of the processions in the center of Ptuj, or in the village parades—they are an intimidating sight, and they make an incredible racket.
The kurenti doing their thing
Image | Aleš Kravos
Here’s the thing though: scary as they might look, you don’t need to fear the kurenti, since their job is actually to scare winter away. In fact, if a kurent visits your house, it’s good luck. As a fertility symbol, they’re a link to pagan Slavic traditions. Though these days no one precisely knows the most distant origins of the kurenti, what’s certain is that they’re a thousand-year old folk custom that’s still with us, a survival from pre-Christian celebrations.
The kurenti in Ptuj
Image | Benjamin Curtis
Another thing I can say with certainty: seeing the kurenti run -- their famous kurentovanje—is one of the most eye-popping, fun-filled, culturally meaningful, and unforgettable celebrations I have ever attended. It’s worth making a special trip to Ptuj just to catch it!
