PPoliticians have many appointments every day, but almost never the same one five times. But that’s exactly what it said last Monday in the calendar of Franziska Giffey, the Governing Mayor of Berlin. She wants to open Christmas markets, one in the afternoon at four, one at five, one at six, one at seven and one at half past eight. That’s unusual, like the chancellor visiting five automotive suppliers or five military bases in one day. One visit was enough to say: It’s important to me. Five visits say: Is very, very, very, very important to me.
The Christmas markets are suddenly important to me, too. I want to go with Giffey. Already clear that their program is not happy blissful delight, but election campaign. But the election campaign is extreme, condensed like flakes in a snowball. Also, I believe that Christmas markets work like baubles, so they don’t just shine festively, but show the world around them in a wide angle. That’s why it was so bad when the markets failed during the pandemic or you were only allowed to enter with a mask and a negative corona test. Sure, roasted almonds and potato pancakes were missing. But what was missing above all was the warm glow in which Germans could contemplate their crises, their politicians and each other. Now it’s back. So let’s see.
Half angel, half Santa Claus
I take the subway to the first Christmas market. It’s at the Red Town Hall. From there you can see the television tower, at least otherwise, because today it is deep in the fog. It’s freezing. Zero degrees, felt like minus ten, because I’m dressed too thin. In front of the Christmas market I meet a man with a thick hat, thick jacket and thick gloves. This is the photographer the editors sent me. He’s from Israel, he’s cold too. We walk between the booths. Everyone is already open, although the opening is yet to come. A booth sells eccentrically patterned clothing, a dress is reduced from 85 euros to 42, T-shirts in the “X-Mas special” from 55 euros to 15. It’s as if a season is ending, but it’s only just beginning. But probably this is just to signal that savings can be made here. When everyone has to save.
We go back to the entrance. Giffey is already ten minutes late. The photographer reflects: “SPD people are always late. CDU people are on time.” But here comes Giffey. Golden hair, red wool coat, half angel, half Santa. She laughs out loud, amazed, beaming, and hurries past the booths to the ice rink. Behind her men in dark jackets, employees, security. Berliners are already waiting at the ice rink, with mugs of steaming mulled wine in one hand and cell phones in the other, at the camera. Giffey also gets a mug of mulled wine, but with children’s punch in it. She still has to work, for example to say a word of greeting. Giffey wishes everyone a lot of fun at the Christmas market and that they still spend nice hours here in these difficult times. She also wishes the organizer “very, very good weeks”. A red buzzer is then brought to her. Use it to turn on the lights on the tree. The organizer of the Christmas market is proud of its energy management. The tree’s lights now reportedly use less electricity than an iron. Giffey hits the buzzer. The tree shines brighter than an iron, very bright. Beautiful.
