Christmas, Noël, Weihnachten, Vánoce, no matter, it's all about the mulled wine

Last year I had the pleasure of being introduced to a concept popularized in western Europe: the Christmas Market. According to Wikipedia, the oldest known 'Christkindlmarkt' was held in Vienna, but it seems to be by popular consent that Germany owns the patent for what we see today: a twinkling blitz of toy wooden cabins littered with cute but hardly useful craft items, sweet and salty treats to pack on the pounds, and enough holiday charm to convince even Scrooge of the marvel that is Christmas.

However, last year was limited to the cozy market of Toulouse. This year I went on an elvish mission to capture the sparkling craze in 4 more cities: London, Prague, Vienna, and Munich. I will now try to describe the differences, beit I believe they are almost strictly limited to language.

 Old Town Square, Prague, Czech Republic

Winter Wonderland, London, England

Le Capitole, Toulouse, France

Maria Theresien Platz, Vienna, Austria
Photo Credit: http://stadt-wien.at

Airport Market, Munich, Germany

If you know me, you won't be surprised to see me start with the food.
Without a doubt each country in Europe will attest to their talents in cheese and sausage making. Therefore if you are a fan (who isn't... uhh, other than my very respected vegan friends..), there are at least 2 or 3 booths chock full of animal products. Viennese wieners, French saucisson, German bratwürste, rindswürste, currywürste (which is definitely worst, imo) in all lengths and degrees of spiciness.
Otherwise, prague pork and chicken skewers caught my eye, and the round fluffy cheesy bread meals caught Anna's. All sorts of potatoes dotted with spices, soaked in butter, chopped, mashed, punched, sliced, diced...the germans know their potatoes, no doubt.

Honestly thought I'd never need to eat again after this.

Then the French jump in with the crêpes..

But then there are the sweets..Trdelnik beats all. Forget the gingerbread, the sweet german hearts with little sweet sayings in icing, even the fruit cakes and the every-type-of-chocolate covered marshmallows. Prague has invented a swirly nutty cinnamon deliciousness to go perfectly with your hot drink and frozen hands. This is also made in Germany, called 'Baumstrezel'.

This is german chocolate for you..multiusage

Czech honey and wax candles to accompany

I gotta just put it out there that German hardly puts me at ease. When people start yelling, speaking excitedly, or even whispering goodnight, I feel like war is imminent.

However, the kitty city rockers in Munich took the 1st prize for music at the markets. That being said, most of the songs were classic eighties...english.


The guys at the Bavarian village in Winter Wonderland also put on a festive show, especially along with the cozy wood benches and big pints.

More entertainment consisted of games on ice rinks and for Winter Wonderland, a German carnival and ice sculptures.

Uncannily Philip Pullman, no?

Vienna Punch
Photo Credit: http://party.at

So. Almost most importantly, the mulled wine, Glühwein, punch, or svarek, comes in a range of flavors. I found Vienna to have the most variety including orange, kindle, apple, and mozart (the priciest, either because it was the strongest or because it just sounds better, I'm not sure). London was the best tasting, but then perhaps because it was a whopping 4 pounds, or 6 dollars for a little cup versus 40 koruna (1 pound, 30 pence, or $1.75) in Prague and between 2 to 3 pounds/euro in the others.

Anna, our vin chaud modèle

The French gluhwein tastes most like actual wine, which might be why I didn't especially fancy it. In Munich an extra shot of rum or amaretto was afforded by 50 centimes (don't mind if I do).




However the markets in Vienna and Germany won me over with the lovely affordable souvenir cups. Everyone appreciates porcelain over plastic. I should hope.

For those not after old red grapes, white mulled wine is sometimes offered, grog, and prague mead (which trumps any wine) should do the trick.
And then there's the beer.







In each market were sold pretty little things made by the talented surrounding country folk. Some people traveled far to sell their trinkets at Winter Wonderland, while of course some souvenirs were just general plasticky nationalist propaganda. Perhaps Toulouse actually took the cake for this category, being the smallest and less tourist-trafficked market, the target audience were looking for some genuine French quality goods.

The winter holidays undoubtedly satisfies that inkling to wander around old european cities, better still by being lit up by happy smiles and strings of lights. I hope I've convinced you.



But we can't neglect the man himself, Father Christmas. Or le Père Noël, Santa Claus, Obrasky, or Weihnachtsmann.

A Moment in Madrid

On my 9 hour flight home to Europe from the Midwestern United States, I was squeezed in tightly between two friendly (I supposed) women. At first I had my doubts about how restricted the language barrier would prove. The woman on the left spoke enough English to complain that she didn't have the vegetarian meal, but not enough to actually swindle a veggie option off the flight attendant. The woman on the right was evidently spanish as when I asked if her husband wanted to switch seats with me I was answered with a 3000 mile a minute tongue rolling to which I could respond with nothing except wrinkled eyebrows and a hesitant smile. I decided to take a nap.

However, after waking up to begin my own chicken option complete with mini bottle of spanish white wine, I cracked. Sitting in such close proximity in silence was becoming painful..it was time to break out the already broken english.

"Do you speak English?" I inquired directly to the Spanish lady.
And thankfully, she did, very enthusiastically.
Not only did she speak the global language, but she soon gave me an incredible amount of advice for how to spend my layover in Madrid.

She took my handy little notebook to jot down a list of what I could see in 3 hours, which possible bus routes, and the metro stops after leaving the airport. Then after some musing, she drew a map to match. I was touched.

I then discovered how exactly one can semi-comfortably sleep in the middle of an aisle, which was lucky as my consciousness was going on empty. Woke up a few hours later to see that cute little animated plane on the map on the screen about to touch down in the center of Spain.



Belen's advice led me well, I took the metro to the center of the city and walking down to the museums. The air was nippy but just enough to make me forget I had wanted some caffeine, and the leaves were glorious. Early November is the ideal time to visit a place known for scorching heat.

Hotel Ritz

National Library

The ultra famous 'colon', a statue of Columbus

La iglesia

The Museo del Prado found me at the end of the gleaming walk of Paseo de Recoletos. I tiptoed into the nearby church 'de los Jeronimos' as I can never resist a beautiful cathedral. 

After resting a minute and studying stained glass stories, I stumbled upon the roof of the museum.
If I hadn't been wearing heels, I would've scavenged that labyrinth.

I stayed away from respect for the happy little sparrows

The Museum was one of the grandest I've yet seen. Spanish art evidently cannot be rivalled for color and majesty. The morbid visuals of lopped off heads and suffering philosophers were slightly startling, I admit, but English portraits are a bit stiff in comparison. I was disappointed to see my watch, time slipping by, it was time to get back to the airport.

On leaving the museum, I did a double take. Maybe 60 feet away I saw a...man?
My eyes widened and my forehead creased, no...it couldn't be.
I gladly gave the woman (she seemed to have a feminine voice as she thanked me)
a few coins. I was thoroughly amused.

The Palace of Communication (it sounds so much fancier in spanish)

Just as I was thinking Spain had quite a calm pretty capital, I happened upon a protest. Go figure. Even so, nobody was clawing eyes out and the police even seemed a bit indifferent.

Another gracias to Belen, without whose kindness I would have assuredly given up, or at least would not have enjoyed so much on my mini-adventure.