You know that feeling you get when you see a picture of someplace you’d like to be, or remember an adventure from the past? The aching right in the center of your chest? Your heart pulling you somewhere else, as if it were magnetized? As if it may leap right out of your ribcage if you don’t listen to it? There’s a German word for that: Fernweh. It’s often described as wanderlust, but stronger. A homesickness for places you’ve never been, or long to return to.
Fernweh takes over when I see something like this:
I picture myself walking through the crowds, trying to pick out phrases from the symphony of languages around me. I smell cinnamon and feel my hands around a warm mug. I want a piece of strudel right now.
Christmas markets are one of my favorite ways to celebrate this time of year. The centuries-old tradition in many European countries of course came to a screeching halt last year. This holiday season, as many Americans resume their rituals, Europe faces a vicious fourth wave of Covid. The World Health Organization reports half the world’s Covid deaths in November happened in Europe. Governments have clamped down on new safety measures to try and stop a second annual holiday virus surge.
Austria, credited with the very first Weinachtsmarkt in the Middle Ages, is under a strict nationwide lockdown until December 11. That first market in Vienna started as a way for people to stock up on supplies for the winter—and grew when artists and cooks started selling offerings that could be exchanged as gifts.
In Germany, outgoing Chancellor Angela Merkel imposed a lockdown this week for unvaccinated people, with vaccine mandates kicking in early next year. Some markets in Germany were already closed, with others seeing low attendance.
An outright Christmas market ban in the Czech Republic has lead to illegal pop-ups and organizers scrambling to take advantage of loopholes.
It’s heartbreaking to see holiday traditions interrupted for another year. We’ve all suffered so much. It seems this pandemic has refused to loosen its grip on our bodies, minds, and politics. An innocence is lost. Adulthood tends to erode that wide-eyed wonder of the holidays, even without the collective trauma of the last two years. We get caught up in the stress of planning and buying and creating magic for everyone else. We lose people, and it makes it harder to smile when they’re not on the other side of the table. Now, I’m longing for a time when all it took was a chill in the air and twinkling lights to make my heart soar. Fernweh, if you will.
Already feeling overwhelmed by the holiday season? What brings you back to a place of joy? Share it with me in the comments!
A school field trip is responsible for my first taste of that feeling. Like wanderlust, but stronger. Middle school students learning to speak German set loose in Akron, Ohio’s Lock 3. Wooden huts lined the square; the glow from within revealed glass ornaments, candied nuts, mittens and scarves. Smells of sausage, spätzle, and potato pancakes drifted out of a large tent. In the center, a massive outdoor ice skating rink.
All of this—made possible by Akron’s sister city relationship with Chemnitz. Artists from the small city in eastern Germany crossed the ocean each year to bring a bit of the Old World to our little corner of the Midwest. The point of the trip downtown was for the students to try to speak German with the Chemnitz residents visiting the city. The assignment, unsurprisingly, was a bit lost on a group of preteens. I think I stammered out a couple of dankes and bittes in between bites of the first spätzle I’d ever eaten—though I’d argue that spätzle itself was a formative experience.
My hometown’s holiday festivities no longer include visiting German artisans (ah, budget cuts), but the few times I got to experience a Christkindlmarkt at home fueled my love for languages, food, and travel. It lit a fire that eventually landed me in Italy to study in the fall of 2014. In the final weeks of that semester, I got to experience London’s Winter Wonderland, the amusement park-level holiday festival that takes over Hyde Park. I also stumbled, quite ignorantly, into the Champs-Élysées Christmas market with a group of friends. We were trying to get a good view of the Eiffel Tower for Instagram. My favorite Christmas market, however, was home in Florence, at the Piazza Santa Croce.1
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The market felt intimate, like opening gifts by the fire on Christmas Eve. Every other stall, vendors sold stunning baked goods. There were cured meats, cheese, and specialty pasta. I couldn’t leave one particular vendor without a handcrafted wooden train—the perfect gift for a friend’s toddler back home. I also couldn’t leave without my favorite Christkindlmarkt refreshments: apple strudel and a cup of glühwein.2 Walking around that market, I felt at home. I felt at peace. Even the cold rain couldn’t wash away the feeling that this was perfect. It was enough.
Returning to these experiences after nearly two years of loss and heartache, it’s the simplicity that resonates. No box store deals needed here. No audacious Clark Griswold displays necessary. Mittens hand-knit by a local artist are better. A delicious treat for two is enchanting.
All around me, I see the holidays returning with dizzying force. Store shelves already stripped of garland. Targeted ads for gifts spamming the feed. At first I got sucked in—the decorations in my home have likely doubled. But the spirit of the Christkindlmarkt changed my mindset. Give me family and friends, sipping hot drinks by candlelight. The food we only make once a year. Maybe something small wrapped in a bow that says, “I saw this and it made me think of you.” It’s the little things that captivate me this December.
Many U.S. cities put on Christmas markets, including my current home of Denver. If you’re able to get to one near you, I highly encourage it. If not, tomorrow’s newsletter includes two recipes to create the simple magic of a Christkindlmarkt at home. Subscribe now so you don’t miss it!
One of Florence’s most famous piazzas, built in front of the basilica of the same name. Michaelangelo is buried in the church, and Italians will gladly inform you soccer (calcio storico) was invented on the square.
Traditional German mulled wine, made with spices like cinnamon, cloves, and star anise.