| Christmas
In Zurich |
| New Toys
And Old |
| By Bonnie Burns |
| The Cristkindlesmarkt
in Nuremberg, Germany is reputedly the best Christmas market in Europe
and has written accounts dating back to the 1400’s. Christmas markets are
clusters of outdoor wooden stalls erected in a town square where they sell
handmade ornaments and decorations, warm slippers and shawls, local cakes
and cookies, roasted chestnuts and mulled wine.
Many of the
stalls have handmade wooden toys crafted to last several generations. Indeed,
they remind me of earlier times when children had only a few simple toys:
wooden carts with wheels, carved Pinocchio dolls, or stocky farm animals.
You can also buy a child’s wooden sled; the brand new sleds look the same
as those found in antique stores. |
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Within minutes
of my arrival in the market square, I caught the unmistakable smell of
grilling sausages. That spicy, sizzling, gloriously greasy aroma never
fails to stop me dead in my tracks, pivots me around and leads me to the
source. Nuremberg is famous for its grilled sausages and it was just in
time for lunch. Ein mal bitte, I said, which means “one, please.”
With some spicy mustard on the side, I was in grilled sausage heaven.
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Nuremberg has
many fine museums. Despite its harsh-sounding name, the “spielzeugmuseum”,
is a toy museum. For a pittance, I gained entrance to a magical world where
I lost track of time in all possible senses. Before toys became entertainment
and diversion, they were used for occupational and homemaking training.
Not unlike art painted hundreds of years ago, toys can provide a glimpse
of historical life. |
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| I considered
it cultural research.
As you enter
the museum, they have little shops the size of shoe boxes gathered in village
centers. Inside the butcher shop, customers no taller than my index finger
were pointing to hanging sausages and hams. At the bakery, they were doing
a brisk business and it looked like the loaves of bread were going fast.
And of course, a shop sold nothing but candles.
The girl’s
section is one level higher. To learn homemaker duties, they used doll
houses, although it must have been fun, too. These were not your ordinary
doll houses; no, these were miniature mansions for rich girls who would
one day run households with servants. The floors were made of polished,
inlaid wood. Crystal chandeliers lit up with light bulbs the size
of peppercorns hung from the ceilings. The rooms were furnished with exquisite
hand carved, upholstered furniture. Miniature oil paintings and tiny working
cuckoo clocks adorned the walls. |
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| Tick-tocking
grandfather clocks graced entry foyers. Butler pantries were stacked
with tiny china plates, platters, soup tureens, and polished silver utensils.
Linen closet doors were open to reveal plump duvets and stacks of miniature
bed linens. The lady of the house was in the parlor with friends having
tea while smiling servants with Heidi-braided-hair did the housework. I
could hardly drag myself away from one house to go to the next and I was
not alone. The room was filled with women from Europe, Asia and North American
and judging from their expressions, we were all thinking the same thing:
I want one of these. I did not get one as a child, but it is never too
late. Now that I can afford it, where do I buy one of these?
Eventually,
the houses got smaller as we moved to the shabbier side of town where I
got the impression that the woman of the house did her own cleaning. To
learn what the majority of women would have been doing back then, there
were toy flat irons, little wash tubs and washboards, tiny wooden clothespins,
and little linen undergarments to scrub and hang out to dry.
Moving on to
the kitchen area, shiny copper pots sat on little girl-sized wood stoves. |
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| Rolling pins
the length of a pencil, tiny old-fashioned crank graters, miniature mixing
bowls and spoons were all spread out on work counters. All you had to do
was put on the little apron and get to work. The cutting boards with the
toy loaves of bread, cheeses and sausages were so realistic that I had
to suppress the urge to climb under the braided rope to play with them.
When I found myself leaning over as far as possible without falling in,
I knew I had to move on or stay the night.
Although, being
locked in the toy museum overnight might not be so bad. They would open
up the next morning to find all the little underclothes drying on the lines.
The furniture would be rearranged in the doll houses and the tables set
for breakfast.
With luck,
I would have figured out how to get the wood stove going after collecting
fuel down in the woodworking exhibits. |
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| When a group
of boisterous school children came in, I glanced at my watch and was startled
to see how many hours had passed. When I left, I crossed through
the Christmas market and bought one more ornament and another grilled sausage
sandwich. For the rest of the day, I could not stop smiling.
Bonnie Burns,
a native of Kansas, lives in Zurich, Switzerland. To contact her Click
Here |
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Article
Index ~ Switzerland
Index ~ |
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