27.12.11

All Lost in the Christmas Markets

 Strasbourg Christmas Market
What’s the difference between life in Europe and in the U.S.A.? It’s a common question, especially when talking to one’s grandparents on Skype. It comes up in expat-American conversations from a number of angles.

The difference is, in general, not large. Our life in Europe does not differ greatly from our life in America, no more than life in New York City differs from life in Ludington, Michigan, or life in Paris differs from life in Esch-sur-Sûre, Luxembourg.

Differences exist, but mostly mundane, everyday ones: e.g. European pencils are skinnier (I speak from personal experience). There are countless petty differences on this order. On a deeper level, there’s always the generic freedom of living abroad, the ability to lose oneself in the local language (languages in Luxembourg), and the daily challenge of making oneself understood. All of these things are great, but they have to do more with being abroad than where one is, or than Europe.

For all that, one thing that stands out in Europe is the rhythm to which the Old World sways. Europe, or at least the Northwestern continental corner (i.e. the upper half of France, Germany, and Benelux) appears to have an established approach to traversing the year, one based on weather, tradition, religion, ancient harvest rituals, and a dash of modern industry.

The year begins with New Year’s celebrations and the leftover Christmas season holidays (Epiphany). That last burst of holiday joy and as many cords of wood as a household can manage sustain homes through the next six or so weeks, a grim period where “sunlight” lasts about 7-8 hours a day, mostly appearing in grim, gray-white cloudy form. Winters are dreary, cold, and rainy, with a surfeit of snow to lighten the spirit. Everybody likely tucks their heads into their coats, stays inside as much as possible, and bears witness to the relation between the word “hibernate” and the French word for winter, “hiver”.

Carnival, that last bastion of sinning on the Catholic calendar before Lent, offers the first upbeat of excitement. Whîle much of this region has Catholic roots, if reformed religious views, the impetus to celebrate probably comes as much from cabin fever as anything else. The celebration takes place in mid-to-late February, spring lurking around the corner. As such, a week of festivities leads to a shorter, more excited waiting period for the return of warmth and the sun.

Spring sets its own rhythm, with Easter, nature’s own resurrection, and the joy of returning to outdoors activities and longer days overtaking the continent. Spring will be lovely and summer no less so, though in August, everybody goes away on vacation. September marks the return to work and school, but also the beer and harvest festival season; one can find a festival every weekend until mid-November. It makes it difficult to schedule other activities with beer connoisseurs.

And in mid-November, the rhythm beats with Christmas Markets, to be described here forth.

Les Marchés de Noël

Strasbourg street
Annual market festivals of modern times emerge from basic traditions of people coming together to sell their goods. In Luxembourg there is the annual end of summer Schueberfouer, a fair that has its roots in the late Middle Ages, with this year having been the 671st celebration.

The idea of having a market around Christmas time appears to date back to a similarly late medieval date, at least as far back 13th or 14th century. While I didn’t find unequivocal evidence for where and when they began, most sources and intuition suggest this to be an originally German institution. The small wooden cabins that house each vendor and his/her wares, the ruddy nature of the fare and the people, and the adaptation to cold weather all suggest Germany: the markets feel like prefab portals into a Grimm Brothers tale.

I knew naught of these markets before coming to Luxembourg. As an American Jew whose main prior abroad experience was in Israel, I might not be expected to know much about Christmas. Christmas as a child meant three things: 1. Watching movies; 2. going to my best friend David’s house to see what he got for the holiday that I could share in – mostly, I hoped for video games; 3. a day off from wrestling practice. In college, I would be home for only about 5-7 days centered on Christmas, and in addition to that sense of homecoming, I had to maintain my weight for a tournament that awaited me on my return to the South. After college, I spent two Christmases in Israel, which became a time where Amy would go home and I could relax in our apartment. All in all, Christmas hasn’t been on my radar.

The Christmas Markets, however, arrested my attention. Les Marchés de Noël (the French name, which is easier to type than Christkindelmärik), do more than just propagate the big 3 C’s – Christianity, Commercialism, and Capitalism. They also provide a vibe, a sense of community, and a chance to drink hot beverages and interact with people in other languages. This mixture sucked in my interest as a secular, American Jew, and draws thousands of other people as well.

First, a Christmas Village in Belgium
 
On what we in the U.S. call Black Friday, where stores put on grand deals and people frantically fight over those deals, Les Marchés de Noël open here. It was on the Saturday after, following a Thanksgiving celebration in Luxembourg the night prior, that Ben and I stumbled on our first Christmas market, in Belgium.

We were visiting Liège, a proud, independent city in east Belgium, just barely a part of the French-speaking half of the country, Wallonia. The brick-laden city stood as an industrial powerhouse, and remains twice the size of Luxembourg, with just under 200K residents. There’s a grand view to be had after climbing300 some-odd steps to the Citadel, and the author George Simenon, creator of the Inspector Maigret series,was a native of the city. We decided on Liège as our weekend destination for all these things, and because it was the best we could do for one day and a less than 3 hour train ride.

"I don't see a 'She-Wolf', do you?"
It was to our surprise that, after we dumped off our bags and began our cruise through the center of the city, we stumbled upon a bunch of the wooden houses and a skating rink. There at Place St. Paul we found booths and waffles and chocolates galore, as well as modern dance music that can be found anywhere (read: Shakira). Europeans enjoy taking things outdoors as much as possible, and Les marchés provide another example. With mobile heaters set up and an array of hot chocolate and hot wine stands surrounding the rink, people congregated to exchange holiday cheer and body warmth.  

Having tasted a bit of the holiday spirit, we continued through the pedestrian streets of the city center and round a corner, whereupon we discovered another market. This market was officially a “Village de Noël,” though despite their website’s explanation, I can’t really say there’s a difference between the two.

The village held the real action, in any case. Held on Place St. Lambert (the site of a recent violent attack), the village offers a Ferris wheel, large slide to ride down, food booths, trinket and ornament vendors, a large brass band playing marches, and all the glühwein, hot chocolate, and beer one could ask for – truly the heart of the Liège Christmas festivities.

The Chocolate and Marzipan in action. Photo by Benjamin Chang.
Being in Belgium, we decided to do as the Belgium tourists do. I bought a cornet of fries, drenched in Andalusian sauce, but our chocolate choices were more noteworthy. Ben couldn’t resist a large slab of white marzipan at the Charlemagne chocolatiers’ booth (Charlemagne’s purported birthplace is close to Liège). We stopped there to pick up the slab and buy some gift chocolates. As we deliberated and worked through language barriers, a local cut us in line, picking a bag of chocolates unhesitatingly and demanding the right to pay. The woman behind the booth muttered her apologies to us, eyes wide with helplessness. The man, a swarthy fellow, remained unabashed, however: “I tell everyone when they come to Liège, they must come for the chocolate. That’s why you come to Liège!” He faded back into the crowd, but his words, or at least his breath, left the impression that he had come for the glühwein as well.

We returned at night, the best time to visit the markets. The glow of lights; the ongoing excitement found in the way people walk and talk in waves and spikes and streams and rambles; the defiance of the weather and the earlier and earlier onset of night, all this brings out the best of Europe and of Les marchés. Well, that and the hot chocolate and waffles we munched on from Galler, who have a factory in the town.

The Humble Home Front

Luxembourg’s Christmas market is a more humble affair. Everything in Luxembourg is a more humble affair, except maybe the approach to global finance. The city of Luxembourg sets up two marchés, one on the Place de Paris near the train station, and one in the center on the Place d’Armes. The central marché is the main one. Four rows of 5-10 booths snake across the square. Various local bands and artists play carols at the gazebo on the west end, though in their absence a DJ is liable to spin some modern takes on the season’s songbook – I’m pretty sure I heard an Mariah Carey Christmas song in there.

Luxembourg’s market, like most of its social life, is sort of rinky-dink, but with a few special items. First, they sell grompelkichelchen, which are crepe-sized potato cakes, and quite tasty. Also, the Luxembourg marché, like most other marchés, sells Glühwein, the mulled wine specialty of les marchés. Glühwein translates into French as vin chaud, which translates into English as hot wine, which gives you the essence of the stuff. It’s wine, usually red, that is heated, spiced, and sweetened. (The second meaning of “to mull” is “to heat, sweeten, and flavor with spices for drinking, as ale or wine,” which also captures the essence of the stuff. I did not know that definition).

I had my only full cup of glühwein in Luxembourg. To drink glühwein in Luxembourg, one pays 3 euros for the wine and another 2 euro deposit for the mug; I drank mine out of a Christmas shoe shaped mug. Despite the charm, the sticky sweetness was a little bit too much for me. Some on the internet call glühwein the German winter version of sangria, but somehow what I had didn’t work for me the same way.

The last nice thing about Luxembourg is a shared quality with other markets, but significant. Placed in the center, the market serves as a universal meeting point. Anybody can come in, check out the booths, drink a glühwein, and soak in the atmosphere. The center of that center square features a set of tables, so that the main food booths look on each other and people gather under the glow of those heaters and act merry and cold and like themselves, but the best part of themselves. I’m not sure Black Friday allows for the same behavior.

Le Capitale de Noël

The largest decorated Christmas Tree in the world (or so they say).
Last for this tale is the market in Strasbourg. Strasbourg, a French city of 280K residents on the border of Germany, is significant for many things, but those things belong in a different article

The important thing to know here is that Strasbourg is the self-dubbed “Capital of Christmas.” Here I thought I visited the capital of Christmas when I went to Bethlehem for Christmas 2008, but no. What right does Strasbourg have to the title of Christmas Capital, trumping Bethlehem’s renown as Jesus’ birthplace? Well, as best as I can tell it rests on three claims, all of dubious veracity.

11.  Strasbourg, according to one of my French teachers but not most other people, held the first Christmas market. Strasbourg’s market dates to 1570, meaning it’s pretty damn old, but as noted earlier, probably not the oldest.
22.     Strasbourg is the birthplace of the Sapin de Noël, i.e. the Christmas tree. The Internet renders this debate more unclear. Some sources say yea, verily, and others claim that the Christmas tree was first added to the end of the year festivities near either Riga or Tallinn. Both claims pin the innovation in the 16th century, so at least half-credit to this claim so far for Strasbourg.
33.       Strasbourg has a really cool set of Christmas markets and celebrations.

This last claim could only be verified in person. Amy, A. (a friend of ours), and I took a weekend trip to scope out the situation. We arrived by train on a rainy Friday evening, rented a car, ate dinner, and then headed out of the city to our village B&Bs; we got lost, confused in the rain, angry at each other, and then eventually inside late enough to wake the proprietors of the inns. Les marchés would be a Saturday thing.

Also part of the promise - Christmas-themed pastries.
On Saturday, we arrived in the city to visit the markets just after noon. Strasbourg’s center is called “Grande île”, or the big island. It’s an apt name, as the center is an island surrounded by the Ill River, which feeds into the Rhine River a few kilometers farther east. The whole island is a UNESCO World Heritage site, with a grand Cathedrale de Notre Dame its heart. That World Heritage site held at least 9 separate markets (two others are off the island). This is Strasbourg’s Christmas promise – a series of markets in different places and with different themes strewed across the dense city center, so that in one day one can experience a full array of Christmas in the heart of Europe.

We started by getting off the tram in the center and walking to Place Kleber. The market there was unspectacular, but we got a hot chocolate, the initial rush of the crowds and street musicians to be found everywhere in the city, and Le Grand Sapin de Noël. Strasbourg claims that their Christmas tree is the tallest decorated tree in the world. Whether or not that’s the case, it’s pretty grand, standing there in the middle of Place Kleber, an open square capable of hosting such a big Christmas tree.

Romance has its downsides.
After the tree, we stopped in an ornate chocolate shop, where the ladies bought gifts. I watched as a two-story, two-horse cart clomped along a curving street, leaving a string of photographing tourists and, well, horse shit behind them. This throwback transportation guided us to the Place du Temple Neuf, a smaller square that is normally a parking lot, but did well in providing a couple places for vendors to vend. I did most of gift shopping here, but we also tried some chestnut and blueberry jams.

Rue des Hallebards
This prologue led us to the Rue de Hallebards, over which hung a series of chandeliers enclosed in glass cases. This striking decoration forewarned us of the main attraction of the city one block to the south, the Cathedrale. The crowds thronged in 10 person-wide waves spanning the street, cresting in the market at the foot of the crazy Cathedrale, the center of the Capital of Christmas.

Impressively, the crowds and the markets almost obscured the huge building behind, as the eye naturally fell on the red and brown of the booths, on the accordion players sitting street level, on the people, the people.  We wended our way through the crowds, lost one another, reunited, and then decided to split up, the ladies one way and I another.

My wandering took me to the south side of the Cathedrale, where Strasbourg had set up their skating rink, less central than the one in Liège but still popular. I then drifted down to the river, left the markets for a little bit, strolling through the east side of the Grande Île, but I didn’t wander long: the girls sent out the bat signal, too cold to continue shopping in the marchés and eager to get indoors to some old-fashioned modern stores. I rejoined them, helped them install themselves in a café, one with no room for me, and went back on the walk.

I turned to the western section of the city, knowing a well-touted literary café awaited me in that direction. I walked past the village for children, a tent that housed games and activities at the foot of another pink sandstone church (pink sandstone the most available building material for the city). The waves of crowds thinned and grew less frequent as I found the river again and walked along it to the Petite France district. There I found the former industrial heart of Strasbourg, set on a few fingers of land in the middle of the river. Restaurants serving endless variety of sauerkraut dishes, as well as a good share of pig knuckle, surrounded a market touting local crafts. I finished my gift shopping here and at another market of local Alsatian flavors around the corner: cognac-flavored egg liquor was my big find.

That ended the daytime Christmas market touring. Though tired, burdened by the fruits of our successful day of shopping, and wary of our half-hour commute to the inn, we still had the night ahead of us. We still had the best of the markets to look forward to.

Petite France at night (Market on the right)
I met the girls at the Place Kleber, where we took the necessary photos of the tree at night. From there, we returned to the Petite France area. Though we didn’t find a prompt, authentic eatery that could satisfy each of our culinary concerns, we did get to wander about in the cold, through the continuing crowds, amidst the glow of the market, and with sips from Amy’s cup of Glühwein. While we were stressed and cold and not overly warmed by the wine and the Christmas cheer, it was cute all the same.

After at last finding a grand Thai meal, we drifted back to the river on our walk to the tram that would take us to our car. Christmas decorations lit up both banks of the river. The red and yellow and green stoplight glare of Christmas bathed in the pink sandstone tint of the city harmoniously. The river lapped at the bank as we trundled along with our booty, past amorous couples, families, and groups of students. The relief of a full day’s end washed over us.

***


Hot wine 'neath the Cathedral. Just as the pope would like, I'm sure.
Our ride home was probably not all that different from one we would have taken if the three of us had gone shopping in, say, the Mall of America in A.’s home state of Minnesota. We would have felt the same relief from finishing our gift-buying. In either situation we would have had stories to tell about the people we saw and the encounters we had. Inevitably, in our core we would have faced the paradox of feeling good about buying gifts for others and feeling bad about feeding the consumerist colossus and the endless need for more and more stuff (or maybe that was just me).

Maybe Les marchés de Noël is just a grand gimmick, capitalism disguised as quaint nostalgia and doused in hot wine. Tradition or not, the idea of the markets is that they are markets; venues to sell products. Many of those products are unnecessary. The Christmas market is just hype.

But then, gimmick or not, the feeling is different. Bringing people together, placing them outside, putting them on a map in a location together, removed from the stronger waves of modern advertising, modern technology, modern post-modern detachment from the world, this still stands as a difference from the malls and the Walmarts and the consumer is king mentality of the U.S.

Europe still doesn’t really bring Christmas any closer to the original idea of celebrating Jesus. I’m not close to becoming a convert to the Christmas season (nor to Christianity, natch). But if one has to choose to take part in the Christmas season, one can do worse than to go to the markets, and to get outside on the streets, together.


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