Christmas Under the Alps

In America, our Christmas traditions are mostly indoors, be they huddling around the fire with family or missing your connection at O’Hare. The Swiss, however, are an outdoorsy people, and just because their country at Christmastime is a dark and frozen tundra, they won’t be dissuaded. If anything, they double-down on their outdoorsiness in the form of Christmas Markets.

Christmas Markets, as I understand them, are outdoor wintertime markets that are popular in countries where markets shouldn’t be outdoors in winter. These yuletide bazaars provide a host of culturally-specific Christmas fare (most of which involves pretzels) and the camaraderie that comes from shopping with your countrymen as you slowly freeze to death.

In Zurich, where I spent last week for work, Christmas markets fill the city. Some are stylish: the Winter Wunder Werkstatt in Europa Allee has outdoor restaurants where you can enjoy haute cuisine while wearing every coat you own. Others are traditional: Old Town Zurich has a “Fondue Chalet,” a hand-carved carousel, and thousands of lights. In the distance, Swiss children stand in a tree and butcher golden-age Mariah Carey as no one can, except modern-age Mariah Carey.

Yes, Christmas is everywhere you look in Zurich. (Being neutral, they haven’t declared war on it.) Christmas trees are mounted to the top of cranes, like seasonally appropriate warning lights. Across the city center, the streets buzz with open-air holiday trolleys (brr brr brr went my heartstrings), through which the Swiss unite their twin loves of Christmas and public transportation. It’s enough to make a Grinch smile.

Milan, in contrast, takes a much more scattershot approach to Christmas. There are pockets of decoration here and there, but the city focuses more on its core competencies of high fashion, lengthy opera, and mowing down pedestrians.

Milan’s approach to Christmas is best captured in the Quadrilatero d’Oro, the city’s high-end shopping district that makes Fifth Avenue look like West 108th Street. The Quad, as we high-end shoppers call it, is less about Christmas itself than the mercantilism that Christmas brings. The luxury stores have perfunctory garlands, as if to say, “We know it’s Christmas, you know it’s Christmas – now, hurry up and buy stuff.” In front of the stores, luxury cars sit in curb-side display cases, so you can impulse-buy an Audi when leaving Prada, the way you would a gumball at Walgreens.

Not all of Milan is so blasé about Christmas, however. In the public gardens of Indro Montanelli, there’s a Christmas carnival with all the traditional attractions you’d expect, such as an ice rink and the “Castle of the Yeti.” (I’m guessing children sit on his lap and tell him whom they’d like disemboweled for Christmas.) If the Yeti doesn’t sufficiently maim your toddler, they can try their luck on the holiday-themed ropes course next door.

Perhaps Milan’s haphazard approach to Christmas comes from the city’s cosmopolitan nature. In contrast to Zurich’s homogeneity, Milan has and recognizes people of all religions. The Cimitero Monumentale, for example, is divided into three sections: Catholics, Jews, and Miscellaneous. No matter your religion, you can be buried in a swanky tomb, provided you’re rich and Milanese. Otherwise, off to the niches with you.

Even Milan’s central cathedral, the Duomo, has less Christmas décor than your average Swiss crane. The Duomo is massive – the kind of place Quasimodo would live after he sold his first startup – but there’s nary a hint of Christmas on or in the cathedral itself. In front, however, is a different story.

Smack in the middle of the Piazza del Duomo, the Milanese have constructed a five-story metal cone with LEDs on every surface. Christmas is a time of spiritual questions, and this cone will help you answer some, such as: “What if you took a billboard from Times Square and shaped it like a Christmas tree?,” and “How bright must LEDs be before they affect the migratory pattern of birds?,” and “If I put this on top of a crane, will the Swiss be jealous?”

The Swiss and Milanese methods of celebrating Christmas each target a need specific to their society. In Zurich, the cheer of Christmas markets compensates for the general lack of light, heat, or habitability. In Milan, where happiness is normally synonymous with luxury goods, the city uses Christmas to show that joy may be derived from more humble sources, such as yetis and giant cones of bird murder.

I hope to apply these Alpine lessons to my own life – to identify a need and use Christmas to fill it. When I think of what I’m missing, though, the list seems superficial. Sure, I could use more regional productions of Neurosis (license it) or more action franchises starring Angela Lansbury, but the important pieces are in place, and by and large, I’m happy. So perhaps the true lesson is being grateful for what I have. And if that’s what I picked up from the Christmas Markets, I may finally understand their purpose.