Our hometown of Walpole, New Hampshire sets a high bar when it comes to Halloween. Many people decorate their houses, some of the parents dress up, and the village is swarming with elaborately-costumed kids. Typically I will don a simple costume and man our front porch with a mechanical skeleton that declares: “Do not be afraid!”  Most kids aren’t. One year we had so many trick-or-treaters that I ran out of candy, and had to replenish our bowl with treats that Mamta had gotten at other houses.  While I am meeting and greeting kids at the front door, Annette hosts our adult guests back in our kitchen, treating them to mulled wine and Hungarian goulash (ghoulash?) soup.

I could tell from the lack of build-up that Halloween was not going to amount to much here in Berlin.  A week ago I saw in our local office supply store a small display of plastic pumpkins and miscellaneous spooky trinkets.  When I returned there today to buy the one witch hat I had seen, the entire display was gone, replaced by Christmas decorations.  But it’s only Halloween!

Dressing up

Out and about

Devil Man

Mamta, Sarah and two vampires

“Hab dich!”

Annette and I kept one of our Halloween traditions intact here in Berlin: waiting until the last minute to get Mamta’s costume together. When I couldn’t buy Mamta the witch hat, Annette suggested that we make one.  I was skeptical, but I have to say that it turned out pretty well for a hat made of cardboard, duct tape and yarn.  Mamta wore a black cape of Annette’s, pinned up so as not to drag on the ground. Annette and Rani handled Mamta’s witchy make-up.

At dusk, Mamta and I headed out to meet up with Sarah, a friend of hers from school.  We didn’t see any other trick-or-treaters on the way, but Mamta’s outfit did elicit a few smiles on the bus.  Sarah and her mother Nadja were waiting for us outside the apartment building of another friend who would be coming with us.  Sarah was a ghost, and her little sister Sophia was a witch.  We were joined by two young vampires and Steffi, a vampire mom.  Off we went.

Nadja had assured me that her friend Steffi lived in a good neighborhood for trick-or-treating.  I had heard similar sentiments from several other parents: if you knew where to go, then trick-or-treating was a possibility.

The neighborhood consisted mostly of low-rise apartment buildings. Steffi did indeed know which bells to ring: a friend here, an acquaintance there.  If an apartment had a jack-o-lantern in the window, then we knew the inhabitants were likely to be expecting trick-or-treaters. Sometimes the kids would have to clamber up four flights of stairs for their reward. “Süßes oder Saures?” they would ask at the door — “sweets or something sour?”

We were received at the apartment of one family that had gone all out: the parents and both kids were wearing remarkably scary devil costumes.  Turns out the father devil is the director of the kindergarten that Sarah’s sister Sophia attends.  “See you tomorrow morning!” he told Sophia cheerfully, after scaring her pants off.  She looked worried.

We saw a handful of other trick-or-treaters out and about.  One of the moms offered a tip — “The building around the corner — the one across from the community center — there’s an apartment on the second floor that is expecting trick-or-treaters.”  Being in-the-know certainly helped.

An hour and a dozen candy bowls later, the children were starting to drag, and we decided to call it an evening.  As Mamta and I stood waiting for the bus, she wondered aloud what her friend Sydney back home was dressing up as for Halloween.  I, too, found my thoughts wandering back to Halloween in Walpole. While we had enjoyed the evening, we were both feeling nostalgic for our hometown community in New Hampshire.