Yesterday we went to the German Christmas Market in New Delhi. The festival that lasts two days, is said to be filled with fun and activities, festive food, cookies (which I was especially interested in), shops of all sorts, handicrafts, and more.
After finishing up work, we got ready, and travelled nearly two hours by metro train to reach the area. We took a rickshaw to the German House, purchased tickets, and headed inside after a thorough security check.
The passages were congested with people merely shifting into each other’s places, like a sliding puzzle. The crowd was a refreshing (and comforting) blend of ethnicities, all gathering in the spirit of Christmas. As we pushed our way through the crowd, we desperately searched for that spirit, assuming it would be just around the corner.
We were pleasantly surprised by the interesting little shops. Some selling luxurious decorations, others selling food, or handicrafts. My favorite were arts from Pakistan, paper crafts from Vietnam (not pictured) and colorful handmade rugs. We passed an overpriced bakery, but then again, we noticed everything was extremely expensive – tailored to the upper class guests.
Since reading Cynthia’s article about traditional Swiss cookies, I was in the mood for traditional Christmas cookies, and thought my chances of finding German Christmas cookies were pretty high.
Photo by Cynthia of Home Cyn Home.
As we wandered about, we came across a shop selling German chocolate and waffles. While the idea of getting chocolate was appealing, it was too expensive. We opted for the waffle and had no regrets. This was my husband’s first time eating a waffle (which he adorably pronounces either baffle or wafer).
We found a coffee shop that sold normally priced chai, coffee, and snacks – but I was hesitant to spend money until we found the cookies I longed for. We found cheese, and I was eager to try it. Sadly, it was very dry, and unlike what I am familiar with.
We were almost at the entrance when we noticed a small, disorganized painting area for children, that included sheets of paper and colors scattered across the floor. Having seen everything, we realized we weren’t going to find any cookies.
We decided to find food to share, with the rest of our spending money, until we realized that they were not serving traditional Christmas food, but traditional German food – and by that I mean bratwursts and fries. I sulked, though my husband was unaffected. He still wanted to eat it, until I told him what it was made with. Needless to say, we skipped the brats.
As a last resort, we spent our money on candy to share with the family. At the candy stall, the men working there were tripping over themselves to help me. They asked people to move out of my way so I could see. It was slightly odd, but maybe they were eager for customers. We bought two lollipops, and a mix of strawberry jelly candies, chocolate covered cashews, and marshmallows.
On our way home, I sulked.
“Do you want to go to a restaurant?” My husband asked, searching my eyes.
“No, I don’t think so…” I sighed. My husband looked helpless, but I didn’t want him to feel helpless.
“I think I know how I can feel better…” I said, sighing again.
“How?” My husband asked, still looking helpless.
“Let’s go to the store and get a few things. Some pasta?”
His eyes lit up. “Oh, yes! We can do that!”
“I think I’m just going to be disappointed if I keep looking for some place to give me comfort. There’s no restaurant that can make American food, or celebrate Christmas my way. I think I’m going to have to do it myself.” I said. It seemed to ease the burden, and it was comforting just thinking about.
Little did I know, buying pasta turned into a much larger adventure…