Walking in a Winter Wonderland

Munich is made for Christmas.

During my August jogs through the Englischer Garten I thought that summer had to be Munich’s finest season, after all what could possibly beat the prolific green admired from a bench in a biergarten? However, autumn then came with a transformative blaze of colour and of course, there were the boozy, brez’n delights of Oktoberfest to enthrall but I have to say Christmastime may well be Munich at its best.

Munich is sparkling. Whilst I have been snug in my apartment, denying the slip into winter, brave denizens have been scaling the historic buildings and working some Frozen-magic on the city. Last week I emerged from my denial to find the streets decked in warm glow light bulbs, thousands hung from shop fronts in braided cascades. Unlike the rainbow multitudes of Brighton, these Christmas lights are all of the same variety. The numerous bulbs all emit a similar yellowish lustre, which like the posh shops they adorn, make for a rarefied, if somewhat monotonous effect.

And it is not just the shop frontage, which has changed. The streets and courtyards of Munich have sprouted colonies of small, chalet-style huts, the minaturised winter equivalent of the Oktoberfest tents.

The Christmas markets have come.

It is a sight and a smell to behold. Just to walk through the crush of crowds and stalls is to get slightly heady from the aroma of Glühwein and roasted chestnuts. Everything can (and should) be mulled it seems, for example, I saw one board offering a mulled Aperol Spritz amongst other things. To each their own.

I have stuck firmly to cup after cup of mulled red wine, served in kitsch, little mugs detailing the arrival of Christ and the particular Christmas market it is being toasted at. Tooth-achingly sweet and steamy, the claret-coloured potion is decanted from huge silver canisters, which in any other context would be holding tea or coffee. The Germans, however, have their priorities. If a container is large, it should obviously be holding alcohol.

Other stalls hold precious hand-crafted baubles and wooden figurines for nativity scenes. I paw at exquisitely carved farmyard animals, knowing that I have no need for a thumb sized donkey, but wanting one nonetheless.

The Christmas market has become the obvious place to meet, which has meant a drastic increase in the amount of red wine consumed in the week. Although Glühwein is predominantly sugar syrup, there is enough proof to counteract the chill conditions it is enjoyed in and certainly enough to evoke a fuggy, headachey sensation the next day. That in combination with a rapid increase in socialising in the run-up to the Christmas holidays, has made December into a feat of endurance. I attempt to work off the malaise during the day and sneak in naps whenever I can. Gradually as the day wears on, I shrug off the tired ogre face woke up with and by the time the evening comes I can greet another grilled sausage and mug of Glühwein with joy.

“You look tired,” comes the universal statement from people when they see me. No matter how much foundation I lather on, the cumulative effect of indulgence accumulates in my skin. I have turned into a seasonal Dorian Gray but despite this I feel the pressure to continue making the most of this special German tradition. Each time I walk through the winter wonderland of stalls I want to be participating in it. Even four Sundays of Advent are not enough to visit all the key Christmas markets in the area. It is FOMO at its very worst.

And there really is no need for it. As they say, Christmas comes but once a year but it does come each year. Marienplatz will sprout the same stalls next December and I have no doubt there will be more Glühwein. Even if I no longer live in Munich, globalisation and blessed/cursed Easyjet will no doubt offer me means to visit the city for a Weihnachstmarket. There is no reason for me to push through the season, desperate to make the most of things as I have all the Christmases to come to visit Nuremberg and Rothenburg and the other places on Lonely Planet’s List of Top 10 German Weihnachtsmarkets. Maybe I should sit back and reflect on the true meaning of the holiday instead?

Maybe after one last glass of Glühwein…