My nine flight attendants left Oak Harbor, Washington, on November 26, 2012, sporting navy guys to Leipzig, Germany. We stopped in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, for refueling and the appreciation reception the Pease Airport Greeters always give the foot soldiers going to or coming from areas of battle. No, be counted what time of day or night the greeters are there with huge smiles, welcoming hugs, warm espresso and chocolate, popcorn, cakes, ice cream, and presents. This time, they had bags stuffed completely with knitted caps, which came in and were available for me, considering that I had forgotten to carry my very own.
Although it became bloodless in Washington, it would be colder where we were going. After 7 hours, we landed in Leipzig, a huge town in East Germany about one hundred miles south of Berlin. The soldiers planned to relax for three hours before continuing to Afghanistan. Our group took a shuttle overnight in Halle, a few 20 minutes away, a metropolis recognized for harvesting salt (called method salt) since the Bronze long ago. It is also acknowledged for chocolate and is home to Germany’s oldest chocolate manufacturing unit. It’s been an 18-hour painting day for us.
The Hotel Maritim is an antique and stylish hotel with all the amenities: spa and gym, retail shop, salon, eating place, bar, smoking room, nighttime club, chocolate shop, and even a simulated golfing room. My room looks effortlessly German. There’s a tub with a single sink and a small bath. The sitting place includes a marble table with two small chairs. 2 nighttime stands, a single bed wearing crisp white linen crowned with a tender white duvet in the bedroom, and a matching chair and desk with a well-stocked refrigerator below. The Germans are green and no longer overly indulgent, except for food and drink.
After 14 hours of sleep, I arose, hungry, to a dreary and biting cold day. Another flight attendant and I struck out to find something to devour. The resort is centrally positioned in this city of 200,000 human beings. The train station is across the street, handy for purchasing to Berlin, an hour and 15 minutes away. We’re heading to the purchasing district simply around the corner, a no-cars pedestrian road on foot blend of affordably priced retail shops, rapid food eateries, candy shops, and pastry cafes.
Up ahead, there seems to be a flurry of the hobby, so we walk toward it. It looks to be a town square. There’s a big tree at the beginning of it. Oh, look. It’s a Christmas tree, a stay one, with a choo-choo train full of smiling kids going round and round. The tree should be 25 feet tall. How beautiful. What? Do I hear bells ringing? Yes, I do. I ordered roasted nuts and gingerbread. Oh, my! To our tickled pink marvel, we walked into a German Christmas Market.
Nevertheless, man spray painted gold and wearing 17th-century finery all at once comes to life and greets us. We shake his hand and take an image. I trust he is the famous Baroque-duration musician and opera writer George Friedrich Handel, born in 1685, whose real bronze statue we find at the opposite case of the square. He faces the Market Church of our Dear Lady and the Red Tower majestically overlooking the square. Built-in the 1500s, those ornate architectural landmarks stand side with the aid of aspect, anchoring the square and silhouetting the metropolis’s skyline. In the center of the square is a brilliant three-tier nativity German windmill that reaches toward the clouds.
The attention to an element is astounding. The complete scene looks as if it is a medieval wonderland. We are in awe of the lifestyles-sized fairy story characters staged in scenes, 10 of them. There is Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Little Red Robin Hood, and Rumpelstiltzchen. Ah, the motive for the season is that there’s the infant Jesus and the manger scene, all intricately carved in timber. We wonder how they appear at the same time as ingesting Gluhwein (mulled wine), a spiced wine that may be a Christmas lifestyle, like eggnog in America. The wine is served warm and occasionally spiked with rum or brandy. It’s proper, smells divine, and goes properly with our bratwurst sausage. I did not have the heart to attempt the reindeer sausage, particularly after seeing the reindeer pair on show within the middle of the square brought over from the Halle Zoo.
The arts and crafts are all handcrafted. Stalls brim with forte candles and holders, hand-blown glass adorns with glowing angels and lit Christmas timber inside them, and wooden carved collectible figurines and incense people who smoke. I love the wooden Santas and reindeer blowing frankincense thru their nostrils. There are items and food from Russia, such as Sweden, den, and Finland. Oh my, the handmade toys make precious presents. We revel in our time until dusk. It’s getting less warm, and the group starts offevolved to thicken. By nightfall, the square is packed tight with locals and visitors, a multi-cultural revelry of pride.
The next morning, I went to the motel for a cheaper all-American breakfast. I’ve had sufficient worldly culinary treats. I want easy bacon and eggs. I try an area referred to as Cafe Softi. It’s full of locals, so it needs to be precise, except I can not understand something on the menu. Luckily, the proprietor, Stephan, comes over and assists me. He has visited the States plenty of times and speaks understandable English. He suggests what turns out to be a very delicious ham and egg omelet. It turned into notable fun talking to him. His cafe specializes in fruit and ice cream goodies made at the restaurant.
He serves a sample of a candy treat propped on the side of my espresso cup. Um!! It’s great. After an amazing meal and a pleasant verbal exchange, I feel fortunate. More than lucky, actually blessed. I could not have discovered myself in Halle, Germany, sitting in a cafe and speaking to a communist over espresso if it had not been for divine desire. I enjoyed my stay in Halle, a city gem, and can’t wait to return. Everyone ought to see more of the arena, up near and personal. Seeing the world is the key to expertise.
