On Saturday, my fellow American Sandy Dee and I traveled to Ramstein, Germany, to check out a giant bazaar held at the military base there. Even though I’ve lived here 18 months now, I’ve never attended any of the famous Christmas markets and bazaars.
Sandy is a shopping pro and knows the ins and outs of the European shopping landscape whereas I barely know my way around the grocery store. When I first expressed interest in joining her on this shopping trip, I had no idea how far we’d be traveling. When Sandy told me we should hit the road by 6 a.m. to be at Ramstein when the doors opened, I paused for a long moment. When I learned it would take about 3 hours to get there, I considered that I had never driven more than 30 minutes to go shopping before. In Virginia I lived about an hour away from the second largest mall in the U.S.—and in 15 years I’d gone there exactly ONCE.
Sandy is a busy mother of four with a volunteer resume that includes more titles than most CEOs have. I knew if she thought this trip was worth the time and effort, it would be. Plus, it seemed a great opportunity for uninterrupted, unhurried conversations, a luxury in itself.
So a little after 5:30 a.m., I rolled out of bed, threw on some clothes, wrote notes to the kids, ate a container of yogurt, brushed my teeth, grabbed a jacket, and waited for headlights to illuminate the driveway.
Soon Sandy and I were on the road, the morning dark and damp. We hit fog and the grey misty weather held throughout the whole trip to Ramstein. We made good time, the miles disappearing as we talked about our families. We arrived at the base with enough time to grab a hot drink before the three huge airplane hangars full of booths opened to visitors.
I was impressed with the quantity and the quality of exhibits. No junk here. The best part was that the wares were all European. There were multiple booths featuring Polish pottery, heavy stoneware in traditional indigo blue, green, and brown patterns. I have a few Polish plates and a sugar bowl. I resisted the urge to buy more dishes ( a weakness of mine) and settled for some teabag holders and a pottery spoon for the sugar bowl. I passed on the Italian majolica and mosaic serving ware—not my thing. The fine china and table linens were nice to look at but I already have more of that than I use. There were vendors selling Turkish and Persian rugs and Italian leather bags.
There were booths with handknit Portuguese fisherman sweaters and traditional Norwegian ski sweaters and cardigans. A German vendor had a big selection of loden wool coats and even leiderhosen. There were English tweed hats and scarves, Irish wool capes, and sheepskin boots and slippers from Australia. A number of booths exhibited Russian Christmas ornaments, handpainted and laquered by a well-known family of artists. They also sold folklore Santas, each hand carved and painted, no two the same. There were dozens and dozens of German nutcrackers and “smokers” and wooden ornaments of all varieties.
Several vendors had jewelry boxes and music boxes. I watched in amazement as an artist used a chisel to carve an elaborate scrolled pattern on a painted box. He worked freehand on the symmetrical design, somehow getting the curves and pattern to match. I stopped to admire the work of every jeweler, some working with beads, others with gemstones. There were exhibits of Venetian glass and Italian cameos.
Sandy had come to Ramstein looking for a cupboard for her kitchen. There were numerous furniture and antique dealers. Unlike American antiques, which are often of the homespun, clean-lined variety, European antiques frequently feature elaborate carving and decorative elements. I’m not an antique collector but the furniture was beautiful.
We checked out a display of painted antique cupboards, done by a German furniture maker. The pieces dated to the 19th century and had been repaired and then elaborately painted with scenes depicting country life or medieval villages. They were truly enchanting. An armoire, stained a dusty green with dark red trim and painted with scenes depicting the four seasons in the door panels was my favorite. It cost more than $4,000.
Sandy found the perfect cupboard for her kitchen, a smaller pine piece dating to 1863. There were two medieval scenes painted on it. The bazaar had only been open for a little more than an hour and nearly every item this vendor had brought with him had been sold. While I “guarded” the cupboard, Sandy tried to reach her husband on her cell phone. No luck. She debated the purchase back and forth and then decided to go for it. Once the deal was done, she knew she’d found exactly what she was looking for and hoped her husband would like it too.
For the rest of the day, I bought Christmas presents, knocking name after name off my list, treated myself to a new pair of Birkenstocks, which cost less than half as much in Germany as they do in the U.S. After combing through every corner of the bazaar, we went on to Ramstein’s PX and commissary, enjoying the big selection of American products.
At 7:30 p.m., after eating at a Taco Bell ( Mexican food in Europe is a luxury), we headed back. The dark German highway and multiple detours turned us around once or twice, but finally we arrived home just before 11 p.m. I had never shopped so much in a single day in my entire life. Our wallets and stamina were exhausted, but we were both glad we’d gone and already talking about finishing up our holiday shopping at another market next month.
September 17, 2006