Bah, Humbug? Not in Hamburg!

Her German colleagues at the international real estate firm where she works make a yearly tradition of a pub crawl through the Christmas markets, Casey tells me.

Casey has to leave, but I decide to follow suit and check out a market nearby.

It's a short walk to the Rathaus Market, where I meet Joern Loeding, who leads guided tours of Hamburg, to scope out the city's most famous market, in front of the Rathaus, or city hall.

A village of wooden huts designed by a famous circus director from Cologne has taken over Hamburg's main square. Kids ride atop vintage boats and firetrucks in a 1950s-era carousel, and a Japanese tourist, shivering beneath her fur hat, poses for a photo under the entry gate nearby.

Loeding leads me to a heated tent labeled "Kaethe Wohlfahrt," a leading Christmas store. There's a doorman for crowd control, and he hands us baskets to collect our purchases as he ushers us in. I feel like a bull in a china shop as my purse swings into a wall display and rattles the hundreds of wooden and metal ornaments hanging there.

"There are ladies who make a science of how to decorate their tree; they're here for this," says Loeding, pointing to the rows of determined women, heads tilted in concentration as they sift through delicate elk, angel and Christkind, or Baby Jesus, ornaments.

"And you can be sure these women will have real candles lighting their trees," Loeding adds. "Using electric light is just a compromise: They'd be seen as unfeeling by their neighbors."

We squeeze our way through the crowds, past displays of snow globes, baskets of plastic animals for creche scenes and Christmas pyramids topped by balsa-wood paddles that spin when candles are lighted beneath them. I'm relieved when we emerge back onto the street without having broken anything.

We join the masses strolling past vendors selling handmade goods. Wooden toys abound, and Loeding is drawn to boxes of colorful wooden sticks tipped with magnets that can be used to build geometrical shapes. "That's something I would consider buying for my son," he says, and I get the feeling he's surprised to find an item he would actually consider purchasing that's not edible. "I haven't seen that before."

Other huts offer handmade brass stamps, hand-dipped candles and delicate metallic wrapping paper printed on-site. I stop to ponder a ceramic apfelbraeter, a Bunsen-burner-like device with a tea light that's used to steam a single fresh apple under a domed top. "It takes just one hour, then you eat," the vendor tells me, and for a moment I'm tempted. Then I snap to my senses.

The Christmas markets are tchotchke central, to be sure, but this American tourist will be in the market for a warm scarf before she spends her euros on an apfelbraeter. It's the food stalls that interest me the most, and there I am happy to part with my money.

One hut is devoted to all things marzipan, with loaves of the almond paste and little soft pillows of the confection that look like bars of soap. Nearby, roasted almonds coated with ginger and chocolate are proffered in colorful paper cones. Another stand is devoted to printen: gingerbread fingers that come in different varieties, including almond and chocolate. There are mushrooms sauteing in giant pans. I gobble them up with a little wooden fork that threatens to get lost in a generous dollop of creamy garlic sauce. Bratwursts sizzle over open coals, and I can convince myself I'm still hungry. We even pass a Scandinavian section, with reindeer sausages from Norway.