Christmas in Germany: Nuremberg

We got off the train in Nuremberg (German: Nürnberg) in a heavy snowfall. The train station took us under a broad thoroughfare and when we reentered the world, our hotel stood directly before us. We checked in, feeling sad that Hotel Victoria was clearly a chain hotel and not as quaint as family-owned Hotel Spitzweg in Rothenburg.

The snow continued to pour down on us as we left the hotel in search of food. The snow was so cold, it bounced off us and didn’t soak into our clothes. It obscured our view of anything more than a few yards away. In other words, it was beautiful. We stopped at a street vendor and bought the tiny sausages for which Nuremberg is famous. They were crispy on the outside, juicy on the inside, and served in a hard bun. They hit the spot. We enjoyed a glühwein before continuing to explore this charming city. We marveled at the architecture of the Gothic churches and massive city walls.

We made our way slowly uphill toward the Kaiserburg, Nuremberg castle. The imposing castle towered over the Old Town, built into the very rock of the hill on which it was perched. We had missed the English tour of the castle but wandered the grounds by ourselves. We went up into the great tower of the castle, climbed many stairs, and were rewarded with a breathtaking view of Nuremberg in a heavy snowstorm.

By this time, my feet were starting to complain about the hiking boots I’d brought to Germany, so we stopped in at a tiny café and had wine and chocolate covered gingerbread, or lebkuchen. We then wandered the city a while longer and stopped by the hotel. We used their WiFi to let family know we were safe in Germany and tried to get news on the airports. Because of the Great European Freeze that was currently gripping the continent, most flights in Europe, including Frankfurt airport, were grounded. We were beginning to worry about our chances of getting home, and the prospect of sleeping in the airport hung like a storm cloud over our heads.

We reemerged as dusk began to fall. The snow had finally quit. We wandered back to the castle to see it at nighttime. Children were sledding down the street into the roads and were unable to stop for hundreds of yards, shrieking with the fun of the misadventure. Cars were getting stuck in the thick snow that coated the roads. People were crunching through the snow on white sidewalks, talking quietly to each other or laughing raucously. It was a magical night. The snow clouds still roiled in the sky, lit by the city to a ruddy color.

After a few hours of wandering and checking out the Christmas market, I led us to a small Italian café I’d seen in our wanderings. We had decided we needed to taste German Italian. It was here we had our first encounter with a service person who didn’t speak a lick of English. We ordered the special, ravioli, and were informed by the proprietor, a young woman with flaming red hair, that they were out. So we ordered pasta instead. We grew nervous as we watched her prepare our pasta in a microwave, but we needn’t have. It was some of the best spaghetti I have ever tasted, a simple marinara with a hard grated cheese on top, artfully garnished with basil.

To make up for the language barrier, we called over the waitress, the only person working there. “Schnapps,” I said. I pointed to myself. “Ein.” I pointed to Michael. “Zwei.” I pointed to her. “Drei.” One, two, three. She got the picture. She came and took a shot of terrific hazelnut schnapps with us. “Vielen Dank,” she said. Thank you very much. “Bitte schön,” I told her, grinning. You’re welcome.

We felt very proud of our ability to make it through a meal with only German language, and not a little tipsy from all the wine and schnapps. Feeling quite warm and pleasant, we walked through the snow back to our hotel, giggling together.