By Eva Ciabattoni
 Boys dressed as devil-tricksters celebrate St. Nicholas in Baden on Dec. 4. |
The lights shining from windows make the villas look as pretty as paintings. Draped in graceful arches across the pedestrian zone in town, strings of lights create a festive atmosphere. Here at the 48th latitude (San Francisco is 37º N), sunset is at 4 p.m., but dusk starts around 3:30 p.m. when the sun sinks behind the mountains.
In the early centuries A.D., church officials prudently decided not to extinguish many of the seasonal rites designed to lift human spirits out of the doldrums and instead conjoined Christmas and winter solstice celebrations.
On Dec. 4, families lined the streets of the town of Baden waiting for the “Perchtenlauf,” where teenage boys from a nearby village dress up as Krampus, a devil-trickster figure who accompanies St. Nicholas on his rounds. Some say the two have roots going back to Thor and Loki in Norse mythology, so it’s no surprise that the event remains cheerfully pagan. Brandishing switches and costumed in elaborately carved wooden masks and goaty-smelling pelts, the Krampuses run through town trying to scare children and impress gaggles of teenage girls who pretend they don’t want to get chased.
The Lions, Kiwanis, and Rotarians have set up punch-huts where they serve cup after cup of steaming Glühwein (glow wine) to folks needing a little lighting from the inside. It’s a welcome break from errands to stand at one of the round tables and watch the scene at the main square. There’s music, a choir singing Haydn and Mozart. People don’t seem particularly harried as they browse window displays, greet friends, or juggle paper cones of roasted chestnuts. There are no signs on windows linking commerce and Christmas. No canned music spilling jingles from stores competing for my attention. No bell ringers wanting coins. No counting of shopping days.
Towns, schools and churches host advent markets featuring food, the ubiquitous hot wine drinks and crafts and gifts. People will tell you which market is “the one” you must attend: “Definitely the one at Schönbrunn Palace.” “Skip the one in the first district - go to the one in the artists’ section.” “No, no, forget Vienna. Go to the Wasserschloss (water castle) in Kottingbrunn.”
On Christmas Eve, the tradition is to light candles at the graves of deceased family members, followed by a gathering at the home of family or friends. After a reading of the gospel, children fidget in their rooms until parents tell them the Christ child was here - they walk into a room where the Christmas tree (set up moments before) is blazing with lights, candles, and sparklers. Gifts are opened, followed by dinner and singing. The tree is left in place until Epiphany.
I decided to give boxes of my favorite chocolates to family and friends. From Los Altos, I could make an annual pilgrimage to the San Francisco boutique opened two years ago by French chocolatier Michel Richart. To my dismay, there seemed no way to get the divine petits Richarts in Austria. No stores carried them. The French branches only shipped within France. The next visitors who could be pressed into service as bootleggers were not expected until after Christmas. I dropped an e-mail to Richart’s son and got a prompt reply: “Have instructed headquarters to send you chocolates.” It reminded me of Sam Wainwright’s telegram in the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life” - “Have instructed office to wire funds. Merry Christmas and hee-haw!” I smile whenever I think of it.
It truly is a wonderful life.
Eva Ciabattoni is a Los Altos resident and freelance writer living on the outskirts of Vienna for one year. Her family roots go back generations in Baden. Austria.
