Germany 2025

Easter Sunday in Wittichenau isn’t just about chocolate eggs and family dinners—it’s a day full of deep-rooted traditions, community spirit, and a lot of dashing between home and the market square.

Breakfast was at 8am sharp, because by 9am we were already standing among hundreds of others on the market square, basking in the sunshine and blue skies, waiting for the Osterreiter procession to begin.

The Osterreiten (Easter Riding) is an old Sorbian tradition—centuries old and deeply symbolic. In this Catholic minority culture, men in formal attire ride on beautifully decorated horses from one village to another to proclaim the resurrection of Christ through hymns and blessings. It’s a blend of faith, heritage, and pageantry that turns towns like Wittichenau into living history books once a year.

And what a sight it was! Nearly 400 men in tuxedos and top hats, trotting through the streets, their voices rising in song as they carried the Easter message from house to house, town to town. Religious or not, it’s a spectacle worth witnessing—solemn, moving, and also just really impressive.

Growing up here, I bumped into quite a few familiar faces along the way. Old friends stopped to say hi, ask about life and travels, and share in the Easter spirit. Once the procession left town for Ralbitz, Sanjay and I returned home—along with a few friends we’d met en route—for the traditional Frühschoppen. Basically: morning drinks and catching up. It’s not quite brunch, but it’s certainly cheerful.

After everyone had left, we changed again and made our way back to town. This time to greet the incoming Osterreiter from Ralbitz, the neighboring village. Two processions cross paths in this tradition—an elegant dance of routes and roles.

Back home, a festive Easter lunch awaited: Hochzeitssuppe (a rich wedding-style soup), goose, lamb, and all the traditional trimmings. A quick nap later, we moved to the garden for Kaffee und Kuchen beneath the blooming cherry tree—a postcard-perfect spring moment.

As the day wound down, we changed once more for the final procession. At 6pm, the church bells rang out over the square, announcing the return of the riders who had left that very morning. They brought their regalia back to the church and gathered for their last hymns and prayers. The sunset cast long shadows over the cobbled square, the horses gently pawed the ground, and the riders’ voices rose one last time. Truly touching.

There, we also ran into my old friend Yvo—a quick catch-up and a few laughs later, Sanjay and I made our way back home for one final Easter feast: a rustic dinner of local sausages, potato salad, meats, cheeses, and (naturally) beer.Leia mais