Living My Christmas Wishlist in a Faraway Town

A TOWN IN THE CENTRAL ALPS (MPI) — I was shivering, despite wearing two overcoats and a woolen cap. “It is a bad idea,” my hyper-anxious mind reprimanded for the umpteenth time. But I had to shut the noise in my head up and brave my way through the snowfall. All I had to do was reach the man in the corner store and ask him to save me with the drink he was selling.

Christmas fascinated me as a child. My parents did their best to play Santa and placed a sock filled with something I wanted under the Christmas tree on the 25th of December every year, which I so judiciously decorated the night before. It was really sweet of them, especially because we come from a Vaishnava-Hindu background and Christmas is far from one of our primary festivals. In fact, when I served cookies for Santa as a 5-year-old, my grandfather threw them away, blasted a conch shell, and laid out samosas, biryani, and gulab jamun to welcome Santa and feed him a hearty meal. I cried myself to sleep that night, terrified that our ghee-laden food had given Santa Claus severe acidity and that he would never come back to visit us.

But my parents explained that Santa loved me because of the kindness in my heart, not the amount of oil in our food. They encouraged me to celebrate what I wanted, what caught my attention, and what made me truly happy. Of course, studying at a private convent school also deepened my affection for carols, gifts, plum cakes, yule logs, and gingerbread. Every year, as December unfurled gradually, I found myself watching Christmas films with an enthusiasm that could hardly be put into words. When I was old enough to use Pinterest, I pinned all the Christmas boards from around the world and promised myself that…

One day, I will fly from my tropical Asian home to a faraway snowy land and spend at least one day living my Hallmark/Great American Family/Super Channel Christmas dream.

I started making my wish list, and it looked exactly like this (meticulously planned over a decade by rewatching all my favorite Christmas cinema):

1. Walk through falling snow on Christmas
2. Drink hot chocolate from a Christmas market
3. Buy something from a winter souvenir shop
4. Eat fresh pastries from a small bakery
5. Click a photo with the giant town Christmas tree

Art: MMatvi, Kyiv, Ukraine/iStock

Finally, after ages of waiting, I landed in a charming little town amidst the Central Alps, around 4700 miles away from my workplace in Mumbai, India, on Christmas(via two international airport transits, a train, and then a grumpy cabbie who was displeased that I made him wait for 5 minutes).

It looked like the town was dipped in vanilla, and I couldn’t wait to live one day as a Hallmark movie diva.

But I was super hungry and needed something in my belly before I could start my great Christmas quest. We passed by a café as I was thinking all of this, and it had a huge billboard advertising honey cake slices and cream cookies.

The perfect place to alight and get on with my wish list (as well as silence my growling stomach)!

“Stop the car,” I squealed with all the composure of someone who clearly had none of it. My driver (God bless him) parked the car one block from the café. I got out, tripped once, then again, and managed to reach the café, uninjured and delighted.

No Christmas film had prepared me for the feast.

Seeing I was clearly an over-excited tourist, the café owner himself came forward to help me. It was pretty crowded, but this little gesture made my morning after a long journey. I helped myself to the honey cake (it tasted even more scrumptious than it looked on the outside billboard), sugar cookies, and shortbread. The owner also served me a free eggnog, with a dash of rum. After paying my bill (and packing more goodies for myself),

I pulled out my notebook from my overcoat’s pocket and scratched off Number 4 from my list.

I again stumbled back to my cab and handed my driver a honey cake and a cream puff. And the magic of the sweet goodies worked, as he smiled for the first time. He promised to take a detour (for free!) and show me the biggest Christmas tree in town before we reached the Bed & Breakfast I was supposed to put up at.

Oh boy, it was so huge! It was as big as the NYC and London ones I had seen on television. It looked like a giant pyramid of green pines, decorated so beautifully with baubles, snowmen, stockings, and flowers. I got down, held my balance (the snow was as slippery as a seal), and took a selfie. My cabbie graciously stepped in as well and took a few other shots of me trying the cutest poses in front of it. Honestly, he was the sweetest chum ever. Not the grumpy grandpa I had imagined him to be.

Thanking him profusely, I struck off Number 5 from my wish list.

Once he dropped me off at the B&B, he asked the owners to take care of me, as I had traveled from afar. I was dead tired and wanted to sleep. But not before my B&B owners handed me a basket of Christmas goodies, which included local cheeses, chocolates, berries, and coffee beans. My small-town Christmas dreams were indeed coming true!

I slept till late (thank you for nothing, jet lag) and woke up around 6 pm. The local Christmas market would close by 7 pm, my B&B owners said. It was snowing outside, so I quickly put on two overcoats, a cap, and a mask for a quick walk. I had always foolishly imagined that snowfall would be romantic, but the first flakes pierced my skin and made me screech in pain. My eyes were silvery-hazy, my nose turned red, and my lips were blue. I was determined to finish my mile-long walk to the local mart (which I did!). And then I saw the man in the corner selling exactly what I needed.

In this case, a cup of hot chocolate.

When I trembled my way to him, he laughed quietly, seeing my pitiable condition, then handed me a paper cup filled with the drink. I drank greedily and instantly felt better.

“One more glass, please,” I said.

He handed me another hot chocolate, and as I felt the warm goodness spread across my bones, I managed to get my notepad out of my pocket and marked off Number 1 and Number 2.

I was supposed to be here for a week, and I had already done 4 of the 5 things I had set out to do.

So why leave the last one unstruck before the day ended? It was late, and I wondered if I would find any souvenir shop open. My mind kept saying, “Come back tomorrow when it’s warmer,” but my heart said, “This is the day when you will fulfill your dreams altogether.”

I called my B&B and asked them if any souvenir shops would be open right now, and they suggested one. Also advised me to come back within half an hour, because the local mart would close and so would they.

I wanted a ride, and I saw a couple of horse carriages coming by. Perhaps packing up for the day. But I ran to the first one anyway and asked them to take me to the shop my hosts had advised me of. He charged me a fortune, but I still agreed to pay because I had to save time. I hopped on, and we rode away into the fairy lights.

Voila, the shop was still open! I jumped off the carriage, asked the driver to wait, and rushed inside. A grim, bored lady came forward to tell me they were closing up, but I insisted she give me 5 minutes and that I would pick something for sure. She looked at me for a few seconds, then nodded. I quickly scanned the shelves and glass cabinets and found a pack of nutcrackers I instantly loved. She sternly made the bill, and I gleefully bade her “Happy Holidays” before rushing back to my carriage, asking him to take me back to my B&B in 10 minutes. He took the challenge a little too seriously, and we reached in 7 minutes.

On the way back, I struck off Number 3 in my notepad.

I bade my B&B owners goodnight and rushed upstairs to my room. I had fulfilled my entire wish list in one day! And I had almost a week left in this town.

I realized I could still do so much. What about baking cookies with my B&B homies? What about eating at a local pub? What about befriending people in the mart? Oh, wait, I could volunteer at some charity too, if they let me. Yes, there were new things to be done, which I would note down in my notepad in a minute. But before that, all I wanted to do was sit and feel comfortable.

It was such a beautiful feeling to pause and realize that my life, in this moment, was exactly how it was supposed to be.

I felt so grateful for my cabbie grandpa, the honey cake seller, the hot chocolate guy, my carriage rider, the souvenir shop, and my B&B. I should have just drunk my apple cider (in my B&B basket), gone to sleep, and dreamt about this wonderful day. I did eventually, but I wrote a “thank you” note to this little town before hitting the bed.

Of course, the excitement of the first day could not be paralleled; So, I spent the remaining 6 days taking it slow.

I spent the mornings devouring the excellent breakfast at my B&B. I tried Semmel, Ei, Frischkäse, Striezel, Kornspitz, Schnittlauchbrot, and Eierspeis over the next few days, and each dish was so scrumptious that I would eat double portions most of the time and skip lunch completely. I would walk to the main market every afternoon, and take pictures of hand-made pine nativity figures, glass ornaments, and flower wreaths. I listened to the carols sung by local kids and bought them treats. In the evenings, every B&B guest would sit around the fire and play games. I would alternate between participating in them and helping out in the kitchen. Then we would all dive into chicken roasts, cutlets, potato salad, and red wine. It was perfect.

And then I would batch-bake cookies for breakfast with the B&B hostess before popping off to sleep.

I didn’t get to volunteer at a local event as I’d thought I would, but on my last evening before heading home, I had Käsespätzle at one of the local pubs with my B&B folks.

Notice how I didn’t name my little escapade throughout?

Because it would only be mine...my special place...my secret little Christmas den...someplace only for me to vanish to...every Christmas onwards.