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By Bonnie Bartel Latino

Columnist

My husband Tom and I spied a colorful array of Christmas lights outlining snow-covered rooftops as our flight from Greece descended into Salzburg, Austria, on a cold, clear December night in 1986. Lighted evergreen trees stood atop numerous houses. Suddenly I felt Christmas spirit dancing in my bones. Giddy with excitement, I elbowed Tom and nodded my head towards the window. Wonder filled his eyes.
After landing, we took a taxi to a gasthaus we had pre-booked. The small hotel’s owner, a tall blonde Austrian woman, had appropriately decorated for the season. On Christmas Eve morn, she welcomed us wearing a soft blue and white floral print dirndl dress with white bodice and matching puff sleeves. Thick white stockings and sturdy black shoes completed her Tirolean-style ensemble as she seated us in her dining room filled with the pleasant aroma of fresh evergreen candles. Christmas carols, sung in German, played softly in the background as Tom and I shared our breakfasts.
Afterwards, we explored the center of old Salzburg on foot. Well-maintained three and four-story buildings lined both sides of the narrow street that snaked through the car-free zone. Individual strands of multi-colored lights, evergreen garland, and silver stars hung every 10 feet, above and across the street. Perhaps shop owners, many of whom appeared to live above their businesses, were responsible for the Christmastide ambiance. Shop keepers’ windows enticed shoppers to come inside to see their clothes, wooden toys, books, snow skis, ice skates, etc. My eyes were drawn to magnificent handmade leather handbags and gloves that sat inside a stunningly decorated window.
We experienced the next shop by scent before sight. Tom’s moans of “Umm” became louder as smells drifted closer like luscious invisible clouds from the local bäckerei. Aromas of sweet buns mingled with those of freshly baked bread. Laughter and “Umms” far more guttural than Tom’s were heard from several locals. We steeled ourselves to continue our stroll down the street now lively with last-minute shoppers. Snowflakes caught our eyes. Tom laughed as I squealed “Fa, la, la, la, la!” Joy pranced deep within my heart. All around us people laughed and clapped at the sight of snow on Weihnachtsabend!
A short walk later, at No. 9 Getreidegasse, we recognized a historic, multi-storied pale-yellow house. We knew from previous visits that the now famous address had been the birthplace on Jan. 27,1756, of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.
Next, we wandered over to the Dom du Salzburg, the 17th century Baroque Cathedral. Every December, the façade of the Dom impressively loomed over one side of the Salzburger Christkindlmarkt as if it were a proud mama and the Advent Market, her child. The festively decorated wooden huts seemed to bulge with every sort of traditional handmade Christmas decorations including straw stars, wooden toys, felt hearts, plus every trinket and bauble any child might desire. Hearty scents of wurst (sausage) and kartoffeln (potatoes) competed with the sweet smell of roasted candied mandeln (almonds) and Gluhwein, mulled spiced red wine.
We knew that by nightfall, the strands of white electric lights that hang overhead and crisscrossed the square would further illuminate the market, extending the shopping and socializing well into the evening. A gigantic evergreen Tannenbaum (fir tree) adorned in white lights will also loom large over the night market as will deep-throated church bells sounding every half and full hour – but only until midnight.
However, by early evening Tom and I had long-held dinner reservations at the Goldener Hirsch (Golden Stag). The centuries-old historic hostelry for weary travelers is today part of Marriott’s luxury collection. The hotel’s eponymous restaurant felt to us like a fine country inn where both traditional and contemporary dishes taste as good as your grandmother’s cooking – if only your “Oma” were a jolly Austrian classically trained chef. Equally as memorable was the tall, live Tannenbaum laden with flaming wax candles clipped to its branches. The Yule tree towered over a handsome gentleman dressed in a traditional hunter green tuxedo adorned with a matching green watering can. He stood by all evening – just in case.
Later that night we traveled to Oberndorf bei Salzburg to visit Stille Nacht Kapelle (Silent Night Chapel). We stood in the falling snow outside the open door of the tiny chapel as a small choir inside sang Silent Night, Holy Night. In 1818, the hymn was first performed on guitar at Nikolauskirche, the parish church of Oberndorf.
Another day we went on a tour of the snow-covered countryside with a stop at the 22-room pale yellow building with a Mansard roof known as Villa Trapp where Captain von Trapp’s family of “The Sound of Music” fame once lived. Coincidentally, only three years earlier we had dinner at the Von Trapp restaurant on the grounds of their family lodge in Stowe, Vermont. Maria von Trapp, by then a poised and gracious elderly lady, slowly mingled with her guests as if she’d always known us. What a treat to meet the indomitable Maria!
Yet another day we went on a horse-drawn sleigh ride with five other sleighs. That day is tattooed on our minds. Not just because it was frigid, but because the forest of trees, which seemed to reach to the gray sky, were all draped in several inches of snow. It was the type of scene we have all probably seen in children’s books or on TV cartoons in which trees as tall as giants quickly moved behind an unwitting character every time he or she wasn’t looking. For me, the snow-covered woodsy forest appeared nothing short of magical.
Each day we spent in and around Salzburg, more snow fell than the day before. On Christmas Day freezing-fog transformed the evergreens near our gasthaus into a sparkling Waterford crystal-dipped fantasy land.
(This story was adapted from a story previously shared in Atmore by Grace Publishing.)