Tradition, Interrupted

For date night this week, we decided to explore the German Christmas Market downtown. I've mentioned before that it is super small but really festive and authentic, so we make sure to fit it in. For just a moment it's possible to pretend we're in Heidelberg or Stuttgart or Garmisch before we get a sniff of weed or a tourist says something very American ("Joey! Quit screaming and pick out one of these wooden toy thingeys!") or Coloradan ("So, this local and organic honey...is it packaged and transported in a sustainable way? Like, could you tell me more about that, and incorporate statistics?").

We wanted to go during the week because the weekends are insanely busy. We figured that on a Thursday night the square would be hoppin' but not unreasonable for a couple of introverts. And I think we would have been right, except we failed to factor in the temperature. It was - and I'm not exaggerating here - 2 degrees outside, with a wind chill of -14.

You can see some of the closed booths behind us.

Some of the shops had already closed by the time we got there. About half the market was open, though, so we flew to the food section only to be met by a German flipping the last potato pancake off the grill. He looked at us, so deadpan, with no sympathy or compassion in his eyes, and said, "We closing now."

So we buzzed through the shops that were open. Luckily, the Russian/Ukrainian booth that sells our favorite Father Christmases was open. We bought one and also a matryoshka tree before high-tailing it into a local steak house for a real meal. Currywurst may not have been available but red wine and a center-cut filet are not a bad Plan B, I'm just sayin'.

Here's a peek at our growing Father Christmas collection:

That Christmas tree opens and there's a Santa doll, which opens and there's a teeny tiny snowman. I just love the artistry and detail. This year's doll (below) is mostly silver and blue, with a country scene painted on him (which reminds us of Germany even though I'm sure it's supposed to be rural Russia).

Not bad for a freezing and rushed tradition!