Nothing Like the Festivals in Garmisch, Germany

We spent holidays at home for years, mostly just the four of us. On rare occasions, we had guests on Christmas Eve and mom was always the best hostess. Usually, it was just the four of us around the red velvet tablecloth neatly over the round glass table. Food of all kinds: arroz con chorizo, pernil, habichuelas, ensalada de papas, and flan.

One holiday break, we broke the routine of spending our holiday at home. We decided to go to Garmisch, known as the skiing destination. Of course, I was not aware of this fact until now when I had to look up the place to spell Garmisch. Actually, it is a bit unfair considering the place is called Garmisch-Partenkirchen, we just always referred it as Garmisch. Anyway, one holiday break we broke traditions and went to Edelweiss Lodge and Resort in Garmisch located in the gorgeous Bavarian Alps. My family and I either went to Edelweiss before or after Christmas, but I cannot remember when, but what I do remember is the festival in the busiest street.

*

The sun was setting in the sky as the snow fluttered with the harsh winter winds. I wore a pink bulky winter coat with gray gloves that did nothing to keep me warm. Instead, I depended on holding my dad’s hand to keep me warm from the cold.

I can see all the red, white, blue, and green lights blinking as if proudly announcing the Christmas season. I can hear the kettle corn popcorn popping: pop, pop, pop. I can also hear people ordering from all the different food trucks parked on the side of the block roads. I can see people passing by with hot cocoa in their hands: some chugging it while others sip on it. Most importantly, I can smell the pine needles, the aroma of the freshly baked schmalzkuchen, streusel, strudel, and roasted nuts.

“Daddy! Daddy, please…” I begged, tugging on his arm towards the food truck selling schmalzkuchen. The person put the dough inside the fryer, and the oil sizzled and jolted out of the pan. The man extracted the doughnut with prongs and lifted it over a white bag. The oil dripped over the bag. My dad reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He orders two orders of schmalzkuchen. The man smiled and sprinkled confectioners’ sugar over the mini doughnuts. I meekly thanked him while hiding behind my dad’s large form. I giggle as I reach into the white plastic bag that contains heaven in a doughnut. The powdered sugar coated my tiny hands, I munched feeling the warm, softness of the doughnut. The taste of citrus and the sweetness of vanilla clashed in my mouth.

“Grigi, do you want one?” I said with my mouth still full.

“I don’t like donuts like that. I prefer popcorn,” she said as she pointed at the popcorn.

“Daddy, Grigi wants popcorn!”

*

My sister glared at me when I announced that she wanted kettle corn popcorn. At the time, I did not know that we were going through financial issues. A bit alarming since my dad was in the military, but apparently being in the military does not account for poor financial decisions. Honestly, how was I supposed to know I was just a child and I tended to always get what I wanted.

*

My dad handed my sister the bag of popcorn. I ran to my dad and took his hand again. We passed spectators that went from stand to stand. The spectators would comment, critique, and maybe buy it. We just look around while eating our treats my dad bought.

The smell of pine needles grew as we got closer to the people selling authentic Christmas trees. My mom hated authentic Christmas trees, too many needles on the ground, and then she'll have to vacuum every day.

We walked past the salespeople who swarmed us to buy their products. I pressed my body closer to my dad, who moved me, so I was in between him and mom.

*

Out of everything that happened on the night of the festivals. I remember the horse carriage ride the most. It was the most exciting thing for me as an avid horse lover. I always saw people riding in horse carriage while driving on the rural roads of Germany, but not once did I think I will be fortunate enough to be able to climb a carriage and be pulled by a horse. Apparently, dreams do come true in a small way, and I hold this memory close.

*

It was a snicker that distracted me from the uneasiness the salespeople made me feel. I looked ahead. My pure childish excitement of being near a living horse. A living horse only a few centimeters away from me. A horse I thought I would only see in pictures and not up close. The horse, a clydesdale, was taller than me and all black. A beauty that horse was.

"You wanna touch him."

"Can I? Can I?"

"No" and "yes". I stared at my parents, and approached the horse cause daddy said 'yes,' and I listened to him more than my mom.

Reaching out I felt the coarse skin on my palm. I giggled and couldn't wait to brag to my friend at the time Laura.

*

It’s crazy at the time, I wanted to make my friend jealous by bringing up that I touched a horse. What was the point of that when eventually I would leave Germany and move to Kansas and leave Laura behind. Although Laura and I were not as close to each other in my last year of living in Germany, we both sort of moved on. We still talked from time to time, but eventually that ceased when I moved. It happens, being military dependent means losing contact with old friends but adapting and making new friends. Of course, perhaps if social media was popular among my age as a child as it is in young children today, then maybe Laura and I would have still been friends. But there is no need to continue to dwell in the past.

*

Anyway, the real story begins here on the carriage ride through the country. It was an experience that I could never recreate again. We had decided to embrace the offer of a carriage ride through the country. Everyone was on board except mama. She turned her head, examined the condition of the carriage, nitpicked every dust, hair, dirt on the seat, but did it for my dad’s sake.

I was young and excited for that ride. I hopped on the steps, much to my mom's dismay. She sighed with a glare. I coiled back with a frown. For some reason and as usual, mama was upset with me. I sat at the edge, gripping the metal hard in my hands as we passed the busy festival and to the quaint country. The snow came down harder at this point and I could barely sit still. The snow made it harder to look at the scenery, but I love the white hills and the immodest trees with a blanket over their bare barks.

"Darelys Marie," my mom’s voice caught my attention. She beckons me towards her. I reluctantly went towards.

"Sit," she commanded while pulling next to her. She only spoke English when she was annoyed with me. And only me.

I pouted, and got up, “Darelys Marie,” my mom warned.

“I wanna sit next to daddy.”

“Fine. Sit.”

I leaned into my dad’s embrace. He pulled me close. I rested my head on his stomach.

The carriage tilted downward to the left. I slip towards my mom. My mom yanked me into her arms, “te quiero.”

“Mommy, no me ama.”

“Mommy, si te ama. Tu eres terrible.” At the time I did not know what the last sentence meant. My Spanish was minimum having lived in the states and European countries my entire life.

The wind struck us, and we huddled together to avoid the numbing pain. The blankets we had gotten before did nothing to stop the cruel, vindicate wind.

My face was red by the time the carriage stopped at Edelweiss. I rushed inside the glass doors and smiled at the warm, toasty lobby. The fireplace near the massive Christmas tree flickered and I gravitated towards it while my sister joined me. We embraced each other with two goofy grins.