On the Christmasmarket

With wide, curious eyes, the child surveyed the market that opened before her in the otherwise dreary square. Normally, only the city’s many colourful pigeons gathered at the fountain. Passers-by were usually sitting on the benches, resting from the shopping they had done in the centres built around the historic market square.

But today was different. There were many small wooden huts by the fountain and cheerful people selling their wares. Different smells filled the air. From the savoury spice of fried mushrooms to the sweet cinnamon of pancakes, there was every smell imaginable.

The traders happily greeted everyone who came by. Even the usually grim baker had a big grin on his face today. In a strong voice he offered smiling stick bread and bread baked in a stone oven. The spicy, nutty smell of fresh bread was in the air. Aromatic and comforting, it reminds those approaching people of a feeling of warmth and comfort.

In the wooden hut next to him was another familiar face. It was the grey-haired beekeeper, who always had a friendly smile on her lips. She offered her homemade honey and tiny beeswax torches. These candles were in different sizes and shapes between the glasses. The yellowish wax had a honeycomb pattern and exuded a sweet, mild honey scent.

The woman smiled benevolently at the approaching children and, after a reassuring glance at their parents, placed a small gummy bear in their hands. They put it in their mouths without hesitation. She gave the adults a honey candy, which she had also made.

Attention was drawn by a vibrating sound. A young man was leaning against a stone wall. He was holding a dark brown guitar that he had begun to tune. After carefully adjusting each string, he raised his voice and hummed a Christmas carol. Soon a crowd had gathered around him. Some listened to the familiar tune, others sang along with him at the top of their lungs.

After a while the music stopped and the guitar was packed away. Passers-by made their way back through the marketplace. There was refreshing laughter and many voices to be heard from the food and drink stalls. Adults drank spicy mulled wine, while children held hot chocolate in their little hands.

Twilight was slowly approaching, enveloping everything in a dark veil. Fairy lights and candles shone on the wooden huts and around the square. Their glow filled the market with a warm and comforting light. One candle seller placed her tea lights in the decorated holders, soon transforming her stall into a flickering sea of stars.

The church bell rang, announcing the fifth hour of the day with a reverent sound. All the candles flickered in the light wind that came up, carrying the cold, damp air of the night. Small, barely perceptible snowflakes swirled in the gust. In the distance, an organ grinder played a familiar Christmas tune, and once again people were drawn to the graceful sound.

All sorts of homemade goods were laid out on bright silk cloths, replacing one or two gifts to the family. The intricately designed clay figurines that the potter cheerfully sold to passers-by. The small wooden pyramids with the different figures delighted young and old as they turned in circles around the structure. The warm air from the candle at the base of the pyramid caused the wings to turn and the nativity figures to dance.

As time went by, the market emptied and the parents went home with their children, swapping places with those who remained. At home, they would sing carols with the little ones and light the second candle of the Advent wreath. Maybe they read a book and told each other stories. Or eating the cookies they had baked. A contemplative and quiet Advent would end with a joyful voice.