Mulled wine in one hand, a hearty plate of fondue-coated bread and gherkins in the other, I’m standing in the middle of one of Berlin’s most famous Christmas markets, taking it all in.
After two years of renovation, the Gendarmenmarkt has returned to the German capital, and it’s clear that it has been missed.
Europe is full of Christmas markets, from Prague to Tallinn, but, as with many festive traditions (like the decorating of the tree and the placing of stockings next to the fire), the originals started in Germany.
British attempts at festive markets are often dubbed tacky and inauthentic, save a few genuinely decent ones, such as the winter market at the Finnish church in Rotherhithe, or the German Christmas market that lines the Southbank each December.
But one look at Berlin’s version, and it’s clear this is in another league.
The cultural significance of Germany’s Christmas markets
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In Germany, Christmas markets are used as a communal meeting place; somewhere to wind down and enjoy a mulled wine with a friend after work. Steeped in tradition, it’s a deeply embedded part of winter life; the first Christmas market officially took place in Dresden in 1434.
However, there are some records that can trace the so-called December markets as far back as 1310, notably in Munich, down south in Bavaria.
I’ve had a taste of the German festivities before. In 2018, I visited family just outside of Hamburg, and took the train to see the markets in Berlin for a few days afterwards.
Since my auntie moved there in the 1970s, I’ve spent most summers in Germany since I was little. I think I’ve always been in love with it.
I’ve been lucky enough to visit Berlin three times before now, but it was this festive visit that warmed the shackles of my cold heart and encouraged me to shake off the spirit of Ebenezer Scrooge.
As an adult, I’ve never been a huge fan of Christmas.
I hate the performative nature of it. I hate feeling like I have to have fun 24/7. I hate how commercial it’s become. Mostly though, I hate the divisive family politics.
And so, when December rolls around, my usual sentiment is bah, humbug.
But when I saw friends gathered around the fire pit, the twinkling Christmas lights, and the stars dazzling atop the sweet-smelling trees, I begrudgingly felt my heart melt, Grinch-style.
Berlin is fabulous all year round, but it truly comes into its own in December. Just remember to pack a hat, scarf and gloves (average daily temperature hovers between -1°C and 5°C).
And even if you can’t get into the Christmas spirit, there are plenty of reasons to visit in the depths of winter.
Wurst and plum pancakes
German food culture is overshadowed by its more glamorous neighbours (France and Italy), written off as a nation of beer and, well, never mind the rest.
It’s unfair. Berlin has strong food traditions that shouldn’t be overlooked, none more so than currywurst.
It’s been a defining dish of the German capital since 1949, when Herta Heuwer started selling it at a food stand in West Berlin. It’s since made it over to the UK, and is often dished out at the travelling Christmas markets.
But the humble currywurst isn’t the only sausage in town: there’s also the ketwurst, which I am introduced to by Dimitri at Fork & Walk, a local company that runs food walking tours.
They’re comprised of a simple Bockwurst (that’s the basic sausage), drenched in ketchup, and stuck inside a bun.
Spoiled for choice, Dmitri also gets me a taste of Berlin’s up-and-coming coffee scene; some gorgeous dumpling-like steamed buns at Häppies; a Berlin-brewed beer from a local Späti (Berlin’s answer to the off-licence); a chicken donor kebab; some more currywurst; Parmesan-covered dumplings from the Alpine regions, and sugar-coated nuts.
The street food scene is strong, but so are Berlin’s sit-down dinners.
Famous for its schnitzel and Kaiserschmarrn, a form of crushed-up pancake served with plum jam, I swing by Lutter & Wegner for a few bites of the Berliner staple.
If you’re in the area, I highly recommend starting with the mackerel and leaving plenty of room for the generous main courses. You should also hit up Berlin’s oldest beer garden, Prater, which dates back to 1837.
In summer, it’s popping with people drinking outside; when Berlin’s long winter rolls in, a decorated tree, fire pit, and glühwein station take their place.
Europe’s best nightlife
Ask any sesh-head who’s been to Berlin, and they’ll tell you that the nightlife is something else entirely.
During the course of my stay, I meet not one, but two Berliners who first moved to the city in the 1990s (from Lithuania and Sweden), lured by the party.
One subject that comes up repeatedly is, of course, Berghain, one of the most notoriously exclusive clubs in the world. It opens on a Friday and goes non-stop until Monday afternoon, and is known for being incredibly selective with its guests. If you don’t like techno, you’re out.
Apparently, brownie points are available if you speak German to the bouncers, and if you can name one or two DJs on the line-up that night.
They’ll immediately be able to sniff out those who aren’t genuinely there for the experience. And if you’re an obvious tourist, forget it.
As my guide Lina says, ‘they like people who look like they just got out of bed 20 minutes ago’.
I’d love to think I’m cool enough, but I’m not. I play it safe and bounce between bars instead, starting with a cocktail at BellBoy near Stadtmitte, otherwise known as the coolest cocktail bar in Berlin.
It looks bougie from the outside, with dim lighting and drinks towards the €20 (£17.59) mark, but don’t be fooled: anything goes in here.
I’m given shots from oyster shells served by a waiter carting them around in a vintage pram (complete with a horn, for comedic effect), and the punters wear everything, from jeans to full glam.
There’s a relaxed feeling that, despite my enduring love for it, is missing in London.
I move on to 8MM and Linie 1, both smoking bars, thick with clouds wafting from cigarettes.
There are no phones in sight (refreshing), and the fact that people are openly smoking, while absolutely terrible for everyone’s health, is nostalgic, considering indoor smoking has been banned in the UK since 2007.
As I chat to a local, a couple of Negronis deep, I’m brave enough to whip out the language skills I acquired at university.
Speaking what I’m convinced in the moment is nigh-on perfect German, I ask my boyfriend: ‘Should we just pack it all in and move here instead?’
Getting to Berlin
- easyJet: London Gatwick Airport to Berlin Brandenburg Airport (approximately £80 return)
- Ryanair: London Stansted Airport to Berlin Brandenburg Airport (a return flight in January costs £50, making it the cheapest option)
- British Airways: Heathrow Airport to Berlin Brandenburg Airport (approximately £130 return).
This trip was supported by Visit Berlin and easyJet, but don’t expect us to sugarcoat anything – our reviews are 100% independent.
easyJet Holidays has just launched a package to the five-star Hilton Berlin, right next to Stadtmitte, from London Southend Airport. Packages start from £459pp (room only).
Eleanor stayed in a king guest room with a view of the Berliner Dom and breakfast included, which increased the price to roughly £1,101pp for seven nights.
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