Christmas in Salzburg - Part 1 of 4

In Chicago, we’d take short weekend trips to Columbus or Kansas City. Now that we’re in Paris, our weekend excursions involve crossing cultural boundaries to explore the sights and sounds of Europe. So for our first long weekend trip, Chris and I decided to escape Paris’s couture Christmas and run for the hills to Salzburg, Austria to visit one of Europe’s many renowned Christmas markets.

It’s not that I knew much about Salzburg before our trip (in our relationship, I’m not the one that makes travel arrangements - I’m the one that complains once things go wrong). But I assumed it would be a winter wonderland complete with snow-covered cathedrals and cobbled alleys, chiming church bells and hot cider. A bit of advice: never assume.

As our plane ride from hell bounced it’s way into the Salzburg airport, and with barf bag in hand, I asked myself, “Where’s the snow?” It was gray, slightly green and wet. The record setting temperatures in Europe obviously had made an impact on the winter wonderland I had expected to see upon our arrival. Even Chris was somewhat disappointed – and he’s never negative. So with scowls on our face, we collected our luggage and headed to our hotel.

While unpacking our bags in our four-star rated hotel room that should have been classified as three, it began to rain. What soon followed was a freakish storm complete with thunder, lightning and hints of the snow to come. However, understanding our time in Salzburg was limited, we ventured out with umbrellas in hand to do a bit of sightseeing.

But first it was time to eat. We knew the following two days our mouths would be stuffed with traditional baked goods and sausages, so we opted to dine in a traditional German beer hall. Chris had been to one before, so he wanted me to experience it for myself. We opted to dine at the first hall we crossed in town. Sternbrau, located at 23 Griesgasse, looked appealing. According to Chris, it was a standard beer hall décor and ambience you’d find in Germany. With vaulted ceilings, wooden furniture, paneled walls and unflattering fluorescent lighting, it was as if I’d stepped into the American Legion in Lindsborg Kansas for Friday night Bingo. The only thing missing was my grandma’s famous Bingo cake – yellow cake mix, creamy vanilla frosting and sprinkles.

Being a big fan of stews in Europe, I ordered a venison version with large potato dumplings on the side. Chris opted for pork and cabbage goulash with a side of whipped potatoes. As usual, I should always avoid my first instinct and revert to a secondary option. My stew was quite gamey with an unappealing aftertaste. At first, I found it intriguing. But following my third or fourth bite, it became revolting. Fortunately, Chris enjoyed both so halfway through the meal, we switched. Not only was he being sweet and looking out for my interests, he knew if I didn’t eat I’d turn into the bitch from hell. Once full, I snapped a shot of the establishment for prosperity sakes and we continued on with our sightseeing.