Christmas markets – Ladies of Mystery

by Janis Patterson

Maybe that’s not a politically correct greeting, but right now I don’t really care. I am wishing each of you the very best and most joyous thing I can think of. After a very hard year almost exactly halved between a crushing load of work and several unexpected, life-threatening surgeries (where some of my nurses said I died on the table for at least a minute, but my records don’t reflect it – who knows) and an unexpectedly long and difficult recovery (which isn’t over yet) I kind of think I have the right to say what I want. Which I usually do anyway, but let’s pretend it’s because of the season.

Anyway, I usually try to talk about things writing-related, but today I am too imbued with the spirit of the season and just plain happiness so I’m going to talk about other things, like our trip to Germany which ended just at the beginning of the week. This was a week of touring small Southern Bavarian cities with charming Christmas markets – a small (6 people) tour run by a friend which we have taken several times during the years. This particular tour was also a special ‘thank you for not staying dead’ present from my wonderful husband who has spent the last few months doing precious little except taking great care of me since the surgeries.

Can I make a confession? I have been feeling pretty good, but did not realize I was really too weak to make this trip properly. I spent a lot of time sitting on the sidelines instead of touring, but in a way that’s all right. We had taken this trip before and so had seen what most of the group was seeing for the first time. Perforce I was seeing things from a different viewpoint, and it truly was a wonderful experience. I actually saw the spirit of Germany as well as the holiday trappings. And I was impressed.

Germany is an incredibly clean country. We drove through big cities, small cities, tiny villages and down narrow country lanes. There were no wandering plastic bags (and yes, they do use them) or trash. Leaves were neatly raked. There was some painted graffiti in the big cities, but none elsewhere. There were no junked or abandoned vehicles to mar the landscape. I saw no evidence of vandalism anywhere. Everything was neat, tidy, well painted and on the whole charming. It was very refreshing.

The people were delightful, polite and caring. When it was noticed that I had some problem with mobility there were more offers of arms and chairs and help than I could count. One man even offered to carry me over a stretch of rough ground – which, considering my bulk, was most of unwise of him! I did allow him to give me the support of his arm over the uneven ground. While the tour group was exploring a market, I went to the grocery store to buy some of my favorite sweetener to bring home. The door was unexpectedly heavy and I was struggling with it when a man – a villager – dashed across the road to open it for me. He was a local and not associated with the tourist industry at all. Just a nice man. I don’t speak German and he didn’t speak English, so we just smiled a lot, said thanks in our own languages, then he tipped his hat, went back across the street and on with his own business. A fleeting but lovely encounter.

Not speaking the language of the country can have some interesting consequences. One night the group decided to go to a special restaurant, one that was just beyond my comfortable walking distance. Most of the group walked, but three of us decided to splurge on a cab. (Wise!) Getting there was okay, but when it came to coming home we got a cab driver who spoke no English and none of us spoke German. My husband had the presence of mind to pick up a hotel brochure, so we could show him where we wanted to go. The driver nodded happily … and then took off in the wrong direction. I immediately tried other languages, but he understood none of them. (And my command of most of them is not THAT bad.) He tried a couple of languages, none of which I even knew what were. To make things worse, the other lady in the party was melting down, convinced that he was carrying us away to a dark and unseen future. Finally in pure desperation I tried my abysmal Arabic and the cabbie’s face lit up as he replied in the same tongue. Not that things were easy then. He spoke the Syrian dialect, and I can barely mangle the Egyptian version, but it was good enough to get us turned around and on the right road home. We chatted (sort of – as best we could) all the way back and everything ended happily.

If there is one thing I admire about Germany it is their enthusiasm for Christmas. Even in the tiniest village there are banners and tinsel strung along the streets. The cities are pure extravaganzas of Christmas cheer. In hotels and shops and even humble groceries there are signs, plaques and sculptures proclaiming “Frohe Weihnachten” (Merry Christmas). You hear it from people, too, whether you know them or not. I frankly gave up trying to pronounce it (German and I really do not get along!) and just replied Merry Christmas and it was fine.

Perhaps I have a warped view, or am just a Christmas junkie, or perhaps it is just because we were in tourist areas and treated with kid gloves, but it was indeed a magical time. I missed a lot of our tour because of my infirmities, but I also gained a fresh insight into a wonderful land and people.

And that is the end of my peroration on my year, my trip and my fascination with Christmas. I promise I’ll get back to writing topics in January, but in sharing this with you I get to relive it, and I’m selfish enough to find that wonderful. Wishing you all a Merry Christmas, and a wonderfully Happy New Year!

by Janis Patterson

One of the most unsettling things about being a writer is what I call ‘time dislocation.’ There is the Now that we are all experiencing – the date printed on today’s calendar, the time shown on all our clock faces. We writers, however, must deal with the Now of our work, which very seldom if ever coincides with real time. For those of us who work on several projects at once – some contemporary, some historical – the dislocation can be severe.

And sometimes the dislocation lapses over into the real Now. As I sit here writing this, I’m preparing for a trip and when you read this I will be in Germany with The Husband, touring the magical Christmas markets of Bavaria. The year he was stationed over there I went over to spend Christmas with him, through weather and scheduling and just plain bad luck I missed seeing any of the markets. He, of course, had been to several and promised me he would take me to some – sometime. It took a couple of years, but on Friday (almost two weeks ago to you) we’re off.

Which brings up another kind of dislocation – weather. It’s cold in Germany, very cold for my Southern bones, especially when we’re going to be walking around outside every night. (Though there is the Gluhwein (hot mulled wine) to look forward to!) I live in North Central Texas… I don’t have many cold weather outfits! Yes, it does get cold here – we do have noteworthy ice storms, but they usually last only a day or two, and we just stay inside until they’re over! I’ve been packing and unpacking and repacking, trying to decide what will (1) be warm enough and (2) will not require a couple of steamer trunks. There is consolation, though; we are not journeying to Ultima Thule… whatever my final wardrobe choices lack can easily be remedied with a quick pass through a local store.

Even with all the preparatory kerfuffle I am looking forward to the trip for two reasons. First of all, I’m going on a very romantic trip with a man I adore. That should be enough – and would be – but secondly I am also a very firm believer that everything can be turned to research. I’ve been thinking about the second book in my Dr. Rachel Petrie series of archaeological mysteries, and Germany is rich in archaeological sites. We’ll be doing the tourist thing during the day, so I’m going to take LOTS of notes.

Which brings up a problem. I learned to type the summer before I entered the fourth grade, so have always regarded anything more than a signature on a check as cruel and unusual punishment. And this is the first time in thirty odd years that I have ever taken more than an overnight visit anywhere without bringing along a typewriter or a computer. We’re going to be moving light and fast on this trip, and hoping to bring home a lot of goodies, so The Husband convinced me that this trip I wouldn’t have luggage space for a computer or tablet… or even time to use them. I have agreed not to take anything more than a purse-sized notebook and a pen or two… but I feel naked.

However… as I have been known to say repeatedly, Writers Write. We write the best way we can, and if that means a pad and pen, that will have to do. It’s a lot easier than trying to remember exactly when Now is! Any of them.

Wishing you all a Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year!