From mulled wine to a closed cave
In the Netherlands, there's a tradition of weekend Christmas markets, probably copied from Germany. Even so, locals say the markets are better in Germany and travel there. But the local one is enough for us. The next evening, we picked up another friend and headed to one of these markets. It was really cute: little stalls, dancing, mulled wine, whatever they call it here, traditional local dishes – croquettes, and, of course, sausages with stewed sauerkraut. Our Christmas spirit levels immediately spiked, so much so that we even chugged some mulled wine in a noisy pub.
We took a trip to another town where there's a big cave that they apparently also celebrate in, but we didn't make it into the cave, I already forgot why. It was closed, I think, because a carnival procession was taking place right in the city center. We only caught a glimpse of it, because we were hungry and looking for something to devour. All the restos were booked solid, so we ended up scarfing down some fried mushrooms and croquettes from a temporary wooden stall.
We had a wonderful time, and I was glad I dropped by, even though getting back to the airport was a massive pain in the ass.