The entrance to the Mainz Christmas market. Photo © Click Clack Gorilla

Though technically winter doesn’t start until the solstice—that is the shortest day and longest night of the year around December 22nd—for me the season is heralded by two things, regardless of the date: snow and Christmas markets.  So now it finally feels official: though the Christmas market has been up and running since the end of November, the first snow arrived on my doorstep yesterday.  The holiday season can begin.

A cathedral spire in Bonn. Photo (c) Resident on Earth

One Sunday morning last December, we awoke early to a light snow. I was amazed to see a white van pull up outside the apartment, and a few men jumped out with shovels (the mafia?? ha ha) to start shoveling the meager dusting of snow on the sidewalk, and before sunrise, no less. Let’s just say in the town I lived in before moving to Germany, it would dump snow and ice and no one would do anything. I used to joke that the town had one snow plow (for a city of 400,000 people) because you would never see them plowing the roads and every once in awhile you would just see one lone snowplow on the highway.

Strings of lights webbing the Mainz Christmas market. Photo (cc) Click Clack Gorilla

It’s that time of year again: shoppers are out in hordes, white twinkle lights abound, and everybody who’s anybody has something to say about the state of the weather—which in Germany in December would be a resounding “Brrrrrr.”  Tis’ the season to be freezing, but German cities have a delightful solution to cold hands and feet, a tried-and-true formula for rosy-cheeked cheer, and an aestetically pleasant way to hack off ye old Christmas shopping list: the Christmas Market.  And be they tourist, transplant, or Teutonic, no one can seem to get enough.

Rathausmarkt at Christmas: stunning (Flickr: mawel)

The British pub crawl is a much maligned thing. Probably because the word “crawl” implies that the participants are unable to walk between pubs, the pub crawl is generally interpreted by British people as an excuse to get absolutely hammered, and is therefore associated by our European neighbors with nothing more than drunkenness and debauchery of the worse, most British kind.

Yet as Brit living in Germany, I can point to a shining example of how the British Pub Crawl can actually contribute to rather than irreparably damage relations between my fair home country and our long-suffering continental neighbors. How do I manage this amazing feat of social integration? What glue do I use to make this diametrically opposed… er, thing stick? Well, it’s a mixture of mulled wine, cinnamon-flavored goodies and the Spirit of Yuletide itself.

Christmas markets are a fun annual tradition in Germany. Photo (c) Jen

The Aschaffenburg Weihnachtsmarkt is sublimely located at the foot of the sandstone castle Schloss Johannisburg, which provides a dramatic backdrop to the festivities below. On this day the market is quiet, and snow serenely and silently tumbles to earth in plump snowflakes. My heart is warm and my eyes are aglow with Christmas cheer. This is my favorite Christmas market yet. Castles, Christmas, and snow: It doesn’t get any better than that in Germany in December.

“Let’s make hot love.” Greg had just stumbled into the kitchen where Jan was heating up a bottle of Glühwein (mulled wine) that he’d bought at the grocery store.

“What?!” Jan asked, shocked. “Are you drunk?”

“No, of course not. I just want to make hot love with you.”

“Are you kidding me? What’s gotten into you? I’m in a relationship.”

“But I brought amaretto.” Jan’s eyes bulged. He and Greg had known each other for years, and this was out of character.

Greg pointed at the Gluhwein. “You’ve already got the Glühwien, and I have the amaretto. What’s the problem?”