Gingerbread houses, Christmas trees, caroling and concerts on board ships add extra spice to cruises on Europe’s rivers during the month of December. But the biggest incentive to don winter coats and hats is the Christmas markets in ports along the way. Almost every city has at least one filling municipal and cathedral squares in the weeks leading up to December 25 and almost every river cruise line operating in Europe extends it cruise season into December to take advantage of the holiday glow. I was aboard Viking River Cruises on its Danube Waltz itinerary cruising from Budapest, Hungary to Passau, Germany with stops in Bratislava, Slovakia, Vienna and Linz, Austria.

Each city’s Christmas markets embraced the festive season by selling decorations, holiday novelties, food and mulled wine to warm heart and soul under twinkling lights on cold December evenings. Some added musical entertainment and carnival rides. Can one be too old to climb aboard a carousel?

An infectious holiday cheer brought smiles to passengers and crew on board. One afternoon crew members donned Santa hats and reindeer headbands to lead passengers in a sing-along that ended with a conga line winding through the lounge. An advent choir boarded the ship after dinner in Bratislava for an a cappella performance. In Austria, costumed singers and musicians presented songs from “The Sound of Music” and ended the evening with Christmas carols — “Silent Night” in three languages.

Passengers participated in trimming Christmas trees, personalizing globe ornaments with markers. The pastry chef patiently taught us the art of gingerbread house-making and to my envious eyes some structures turned out quite good.

The kitchen crew made an extra effort to warm us up with a holiday glow. After a shore excursion one chilly afternoon the chef welcomed returning passengers in the reception area with cheese fondue spread on slices of fresh bread plus cups of hot chocolate with an optional splash of rum or amaretto.

Have holiday gifts to buy for family and friends back home? Bring an extra suitcase. Cities along the Danube offer shopping districts with brand-name stores as well as cute boutiques. And, of course, the Christmas markets present a bounty of items, some handmade.

Christmas markets bring out residents, especially after work and on weekends. If you’re game, you might interact over a glass of gluhwein. After visiting two or three markets, the next few might seem just the same, but be on the lookout for one-of-a-kind finds and local food specialties.

In Budapest, crowds filled two Christmas markets within walking distance of our ship. A Nativity scene with large, colorful figures stood in front of St. Stephen’s Basilica where a Christmas tree towered over an ice rink. Vendors in wooden huts sold Christmas ornaments, marzipan, Hungarian fried bread and steaming cups of mulled wine.

In Slovakia, sausages and potato pancakes simmered on stoves in a small market outside Bratislava Castle perched 300 feet above the Danube. Our excursion stopped for a view from the windy terrace then descended to the Old Town for a walk on cobblestones past warmly lit cafes to a Christmas market where cloth dolls in folk dress caught my eye.

In Vienna, I strolled past Rolex, Dior and Tiffany stores on Kohlmarkt Street on my way to Café Central where a glass case overflowed with pastries. A reindeer head made from gingerbread mousse and baked apple called out to me.

Christmas markets were scattered across Vienna, one by city hall, another at Am Hof where raclette oozed onto plates and flutes of Champagne bubbled on a wooden bar. Outside Hofburg Palace, a few vendors sold high-end goods. I couldn’t resist a jaunty made-in-Austria woolen hat. At my favorite market, outside St. Stephen’s Cathedral where Mozart married in 1782, I had to have two wooden toy trains in letters spelling my grandsons’ names.

That night, we boarded a motor coach to travel along city streets lit with holiday decorations to a small theater for a Mozart and Strauss concert just for Viking guests.

In Linz, Austria, streetcars streamed past Christmas market stalls on the Hauptplatz, one of the largest squares in Europe, but shoppers seemed so engrossed in the goods they barely noticed. My search for an authentic Austrian gift for someone back home yielded only apparel from distant lands — Peru, Nepal, China — so I left, disappointed.

In Passau, Germany, our tour group went to Café Simon for a demonstration of gingerbread making with samples of three flavors washed down with an orange and rum punch. Refortified, I made my way to the plaza outside St. Stephen’s Cathedral where bells sounding the hour reverberated around more than 70 rustic wooden Christmas market kiosks. Patrons stood around high tables snarfing down foot-long wurst sandwiches. I resisted the temptation of gluhwein stands to seek out something German-made for that someone still on my gift list. I found it inside a make-shift shop where a young woman was selling woolen hats and cute head wraps made by her German grandmother.

Just when passengers think they have seen their last Christmas market, those departing from the Munich airport find one more under a canopy between terminals. More than 40 market stalls and 450 Christmas trees set up here along with an ice-skating rink with skate rentals for those who want to do a few spins before their flight departs.

For once, I was glad mine was delayed.

Viking River Cruises: 800-304-9616

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By way of a little background, as a teenager I had my first visual exposure to the horrors of the Holocaust in some newsreel depictions of the liberation of some camps after the war – the emaciated survivors with their sunken eyes, gaunt bodies and harrowed auras. I called my mother, who had told me of the Holocaust my whole life, and said: “Mom, I finally understand.” Now six decades later, I came to understand even more.

Mauthausen, one of the largest of the camps, was built high upon a hill in Linz, where Hitler was once a resident, near a large quarry. The rationale behind concentration camps evolved over the war years from imprisoning people, enslaving them and engendering fear among the general populace to simply one of extermination. And that was carried out in so many ways. Mauthausen was considered a Level 3 Camp where the guiding principle was that no one left – everyone was to be killed in some way or other. The SS excelled at very efficient methods of mutilation and annihilation.

The roots of genocide, according to our guide, were fostered in anti-Semitism, an us vs. them mentality, a de-humanization of others who are seen as “less.” It was hard not to draw some parallels to today’s world…

Many bodies engulfed “the stairs of death” leading to and from the quarry where malnourished and mistreated prisoners were forced to carry very heavy stones up very high stairs and often died in the process. Others were simply pushed down the steps. It becomes difficult to hear the stories as they became so visually enshrined.

Other cases involved prisoners forced outside during winter over whom cold water was poured – a particularly appealing entertainment for the SS guards who delighted in “showering” people to death – outside the actual gas chamber showers, that is…. Because any SS who shot an inmate trying to escape got extra days off, a favorite party trick was to entice prisoners into situations where they might appear to be escaping – and then shoot them. Stomach cringing continues.

Others, sick and beaten, simply died during daily roll call, a grueling process of standing in the heat or cold for 4-5 hours at a time, and being forced to do exercises when most of them could no longer stand. It is hard to hear all of this – and my stomach clenched and my eyes teared and I was overcome by a sense of helplessness and disbelief that these things actually happened – and no one cared.

In the barracks hundreds were housed in such horrendous conditions the term unsanitary does not begin to describe the degradation. On the wall is a quote depicting the “wheezing, hissing, moaning, sobbing, snoring” that filled the night-time air in 20 languages. “The noise fused into a single, terrible sound produced as if by a giant monstrous being that had holed up in the dark.” Another quote:”Anyone who hadn’t been brutal when they entered the world became brutal here.” More gut-wrenching stomach-churning.

And then we went through the gas chambers where thousands were killed and then the ovens where their remains were buried, with a side visit to the infirmary where unspeakable “experiments” were carried out.

And yet the neighbors and surrounding community ostensibly didn’t know what was happening, despite being within earshot of the thousands of prisoners suffering and screaming. In fact, some complained about the noise – but not about why it was occurring. The grandmother of our guide, who was seven at the time, said she could smell the stench of the burning bodies; she knew something bad was happening but nobody talked about it.

Of the 200,000 prisoners who occupied Mauthausen from 1938-1945, about half were killed. There were only 20,000 survivors when liberation finally came on May 5, 1945, with another 80,000 already too ill to benefit from the end of the war. Not surprisingly, the liberators were shocked at the condition of the prisoners. I imagine so too were the community members when they were finally exposed to what was really happening in their backyard. At this point, my stomach was in perpetual decompression mode.

There were signs on walls from visitors in multiple languages: RIP, Never Again, and You won’t be forgotten. A simple drawing of an eye with a tear coming down was the one I most related to.

Most of the guards went home after the war suffering no consequences and little was said about what they had done. No one talked about it. According to our guide, it took Austria four decades to acknowledge its part in the Holocaust.

There were multiple school groups of teenagers at the camp and I felt thankful they were learning of the atrocities they otherwise would probably have no knowledge of. I wished I could understand what they were saying about their experience. History will now change as there soon will be no survivors, no one to say this is what actually happened, and the Holocaust will be relegated to the status of other historical occurrences which the young will learn about in school but will not relate to. Who really cares about the Crusades? There will be no visceral understanding. It will have nothing to do with them. There will be nothing to keep it from happening again. I only wish I could call my mother and tell her once again, that now I REALLY understand…

For more information, visit the Danube River Cruise Tour page.

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