A European cruise causes a rethink of photographer Sally Tagg’s attitude towards Xmas
WANDERING THE COBBLED streets of the winemaking town of Rüdesheim in December is like stepping into the pages of a Grimm’s fairy tale. Medieval, half-timbered houses with pretty, shuttered windows overlook the lazy river, the spires of Gothic churches pierce the sky, and the stalls that squeeze into the market square are all a-glitter with festoon lights as the cinnamon-sugar aroma of glűhwein fills the air. It’s romance in full, festive colour and even though I’m flying solo, I can’t help but be seduced.
I’m on a seven-night winter wonderland cruise which travels south along the Rhine from Amsterdam to Basel. The scenery drifts by like a Brueghel painting, sometimes in spectacular snow-decked silence, and the guest of honour on board is most definitely the bloke in the big red suit.
The passengers, a mix of American, European and a few Aussies, are mainly couples and they are here for one reason: the Christmas markets. It seems that everyone is after a yuletide souvenir of the journey, and with daily tours to markets en route, there are plenty of opportunities to find them. I decided to name this obsessive mission to unearth the perfect gewgaw “Christmas syndrome”. Having swapped my jandals for fur-lined snow boots, I was determined to make the most of it. Although baubles and tinsel trinkets are not my bag, I was happy to make a beeline for the apple crêpes with caramel sauce.
The markets, usually situated in the historic areas of the town, generally comprise wooden stalls displaying artisan crafts. There are entertainment areas, (with choirs singing carols), ice rinks where skaters in bobble hats circle hand in hand and merry-go-rounds with faded fairy-tale figures to ride.
Most of the markets open at about 11am, but the real magic begins after dark. With so much regional food on offer, travelers mingle with locals who meet here for an after-work beer and bratwurst. It may have been the happy atmosphere, or it may have been the beer, but before too long I found myself enraptured by snow globes and looking seriously at kitsch Santa knitwear. I was bitten.
In Rüdesheim, some fellow cruisers dashed off to see Siegfried’s Mechanical Musical Instruments Museum – an offbeat collection of jukeboxes, carnival machines and pianolas – but as the light faded, I headed straight to the
heart of the market in Drosselgasse Lane. It’s here, at the famous Erzgebirge Palace shop, that you can buy a nutcracker doll. These wooden soldiers, made of dried fir tree, originated in the 17th century and are said to bring good luck. With 60 moving parts, the handmade dolls are eye-wateringly expensive, so I invested in a fluffy hat instead and rewarded my parsimony with a local delicacy – or two: deep-fried potato cake (a kartoffelpuffer) smothered in apple sauce, vanilla-roasted almonds and chocolate-coated fruit kebabs all washed down with a Rüdesheimer coffee made with the famous Asbach Uralt brandy.
Two days down the river we reached what must be utopia for the Christmas cruiser when we arrived in the city of Strasbourg on the French border. This “capitale de noel” has one of the earliest recorded Christmas markets, held here in 1570.
Today these markets are spread over 11 different locations with more than 300 stalls. The main one surrounds the impressive red sandstone Gothic cathedral where the largest fir tree in Europe is a focal point. When I arrived, it dripped with frosted lights against an inky black sky, spectacular in its pagan glory.
Not to be outdone, the cathedral houses an 18-metre-high astronomical clock – all golden and opulent – where each day at solar noon, a procession of figurines keeps the crowds enraptured. There’s also an exquisite rose window. These circular stained-glass windows were known as “Catherine windows” after St Catherine of Alexandria who was sentenced to be executed on a spiked wheel.
Outside, in the labyrinth of stalls, some handmade, white-lace tree decorations caught my eye. These were heart-shaped and embroidered with an eldelweiss (a symbol of cheerfulness and happiness during festive times) – the perfect gift for each of my sisters. And one for me.
A week of winding through history later, as I farewell the cruise, I feel I’ve come a long way. As a professional photographer I’m used to hiding behind a lens so, at the outset, was slightly concerned about being confined to a riverboat and forced to socialize. I wondered if I’d made a mistake signing up for this style of holiday. Now as the waft of sweet, spiced breads tempt the senses, a warm Christmas on a sandy beach seems impossibly wrong. As I join my tour mates for the last opportunity to sample some Alsatian cuisine – frankfurters followed by warm apple strudel with vanilla custard – it’s not just the food that is appropriate and comforting. It’s the company too.