A new tradition for an old city

Through the darkness, as you stand on the terrace along the walls of the great castle ruin, you see the glittering city below at the foot of Königstuhl Mountain. And you hear it, too - the ringing of church bells, the swishing of cars, the shouts of partygoers.

Your eyes can follow the long and gently curving Hauptstrasse, the main street, lit by brightly colored shops and by giant Christmas ornaments in the forms of snowflakes.

But the big event - Heidelberg's bustling Christmas market - is mostly hidden from view amid the crowded roofs of this ancient city.

But it's not far away. There are several ways to descend from the castle into town. None require more than a five- or 10-minute drive or walk.

Walk down the steps next to the castle, and you pass gracious old homes and elegant fraternity houses (linked to famous Heidelberg University, the country's oldest) that cling to the mountain. At viewpoints along the steep steps, wooded areas resemble rustic scenes depicted on Christmas cards. You feel as though you are in the 18th century.

When you reach the bottom, you are only a short distance from Heidelberg's three largest Christmas-market areas, in squares that are all adjacent to Hauptstrasse. (Some years ago, most motor traffic was banned from the mile-long Hauptstrasse, which was then given over to pedestrians.)

You sometimes can hear the Christmas markets - and smell them - before you even see them. A loud and colorful carousel provides musical accompaniment for the bustling activities in one of the market areas. Meanwhile, evocative drifts of smoke waft about, filled with news that some German wurst is on the grill.

Turn the corner, and there before you are the rustic wooden booths of dozens of merchants. Imaginatively adorned with lights and Christmas decorations, the booths have a quaint Old World feel.

The scene is at once modest and overwhelming. Each little shop is filled with colorful goods that seem to be clamoring for a visitor's attention. They may be as traditional as the simple wood carvings of Christmas scenes in one booth and as modern as the colorful toy figures at a booth nearby.

At one booth, the proprietor pumps traditional tunes on a hurdy-gurdy when not snatching up hard-to-reach ornaments for visitors. Here is where marketgoers find elegant grandfather-clock ornaments for their trees or an owl figurine to replace one that may have fallen prey to the paws of an inquiring cat. In common with other booths at the market, there is a sense here of quirkiness and old-time craftsmanship.

Another stall displays a village of miniature half-timbered ceramic homes, individually lit by candles. Nearby is an offering of sturdy woolen sweaters, scarves, and hats - winter wear such as an aunt might have knitted when you were a child, clothes you'd only appreciate as an adult.

The most lively booths often are those that sell pastries, marzipan, chocolates, and other sweets. Clusters of big, elaborately decorated gingerbread hearts with phrases like "I love you" hang from the ceiling. And the goodies themselves - the variety, shapes, and colors - convince you that one tummy is not enough to hold as much as you're tempted to try.

Fruity crepes, wooden toys, jewelry, stuffed animals, leather goods, glassware: It's all here, bursting out of the booths. You can buy carrots at one booth to feed the big-eared donkeys next door - a popular pastime with little girls, who enjoy admiring and fussing over the furry animals.

Some booths are run by local merchants, but many originate outside Heidelberg, and, in at least one case, outside Germany. At the Australian booth, you can take your pick of didgeridoos and other outback specialties.

There is a long tradition of Christmas markets in German cities such as Nuremberg and Munich - but, surprisingly, not here.

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