Weihnachtsmarkt

In Germany around Christmas time, all the children get glassy-eyed and wistful thinking about a man and his reindeer magically gliding through the air and all the adults get glassy-eyed and wistful from wintertime drinks and festivities. To celebrate the season, every German town has its own Christmas market. When it was still the middle of November, unidentified little wooden buildings began appearing near my tram stop. They looked like little houses with fake snow on the roofs and real fir trees arranged beside them.

Each day more tiny houses appeared until finally on the 24th of November, Magdeburg's Christmas market began. Actually, since the market butts right up against my tram stop, I pretty much just stepped off the tram after work that day and was already at the market. So of course, I went. All of the little houses now had their front walls rolled up to expose displays of handmade candles, blown-glass ornaments, and homegrown fruits. Some of the little houses transformed into booths where children played games in hopes of winning silly prizes like Sponge Bob in a santa hat or Max and Moritz cell phone carriers. The whole town square shone with white lights, a huge tree stood in front of the (former) city hall, and Christmas music floated in from some unknown location. The statue of Otto von Guerike frowned down at the carusel, pony rides and a booth selling gemstones.

I searched for gifts for my friends and family among the crowds of people who were getting loud and merry from the specially stewed warm wine and eggnog concoctions. Around half the booths were selling food and drinks, making the whole square smell heavenly. Grills sizzled with bratwurst in more varieties than one would think possible, and a couple of booths offered some type of mushroom dishes. The Germans upheld their reputation for creating fantastic chocolate: they sold it by itself, drizzled over fruit, in heart shapes, on sticks, with nougat, nuts, or marzipan, in Christmas shapes, and any combination of the aforementioned.

The temperature was below freezing that evening, but with all the ovens fired up, the lights burning brightly and the closely packed Germans kicking off the holiday season together, I didn't feel chilly at all. On my way out of the market, I couldn't help but sample the goods from at least one of the booths contributing to the aroma. I chose the very last booth, which was selling something called schmaltzballkuchen (yeah, try to order THAT over the din of Bing Crosby, a game of balloon darts and a hot grill). I didn't even know what it was, but the smell from the booth suggested something sweet and warm. The woman in this little wooden house handed me a large paper cone filled with puffy balls of fried dough she had doused in powdered sugar. Mmmm...God bless her.