When planning my trip, I originally intended to fly home with my mom on December 4th or 5th—dates we’d picked to minimize the amount of work she had to miss. But then I learned about Krampus. I told my mom it was of the utmost importance that we be in Bavaria on December 5th—entirely and completely necessary, I emphasized. How could you ever say that you’d experienced European Christmastime to the fullest if a horned and terrifying beast hadn’t hit you with a stick, I asked her. She was less enthusiastic than I was about the matter, but she agreed to change our return date.
In Austria, parts of Germany, Slovakia, and Hungary, Krampus Nacht (Krampus Night) is celebrated on December 5th, the day before St. Nicholas Day. Krampus, a creature from Alpine folklore, is like the counterpart to St. Nicholas. St. Nick brings kids toys and treats if they’re good, and Krampus (who’s half man, half goat) finds them if they’re bad. He delivers punishments like whipping them or, you know, stealing them from their families and running away. Throughout the region, there are “Krampus runs” which are sort of like chaotic parades. Lots of people dress up as Krampus and run through the crowds, whipping people and being generally terrifying. Krampus Night was one of the events I was most excited about in all 5 months of my travels.
Choosing where to be for Krampus Night felt pivotal. The most traditional Krampus events are ones that tourists probably never know about. These are village traditions that aren’t publicized or very organized, and it would take luck to stumble upon one. A larger city in the Bavarian region would ensure finding a Krampus event, but these would be crowded and more commercialized. The largest Krampus run takes place in Munich each year, but the photos I’d seen of the crowds looked like Mardi Gras (claustrophobic and impossible for a short person to see over). So I picked Salzburg—a city with organized Krampus events, but a much smaller city than Munich. I planned our Christmas market route to ensure that we’d be in Salzburg for all of December 5th.
Early in my trip planning, I’d intended to visit Salzburg in the summer on the way from France to Central Europe. I ended up changing my mind and rerouting from France down to Northern Italy and then up to Slovakia. Much like Vienna, the idea of Salzburg just didn’t captivate me, and I couldn’t articulate why. It was near the mountains but not in them. Photos of the city looked pretty…but not as pretty as any neighboring city. The Sound of Music always kind of creeped me out. It just didn’t seem like a place I’d be devastated to miss. But the Christmas Markets and Krampus were the big draws that convinced me I couldn’t skip it twice. And I was so pleasantly surprised by it.
The train ride from Munich to Salzburg was just two hours, and we took a taxi to our hostel. Though it was indistinguishable from a hotel, it was technically the last hostel of my trip, which was bittersweet. We had our own balcony that gave us a glimpse of the Alpine foothills, but the balcony wall was so tall that we could only see over it by standing on our tiptoes or jumping.
Salzburg’s major tourist draws are The Sound of Music and Mozart. The Sound of Music was filmed in and around Salzburg, and there are a ton of Sound of Music tours you can take around the city. Our hostel played The Sound of Music in a TV room multiple times per week. Mozart was born in Salzburg in the mid-1700s, and you’ve never seen a city so proud of anyone. There are several tours devoted to his life—his birthplace, his home, the café where he drank coffee. You can’t imagine how many Mozart souvenirs one can purchase. We joined the hype and went to the café famous for inventing Mozartkugel—very popular chocolate, marzipan, and nougat balls that you find in every store in the region. We got overpriced, tiny desserts and felt very fancy and ridiculous.
When we woke up on December 5th, there was an 80% chance of rain for that evening, and I was so worried that the Krampus events would be canceled. But Salzburg didn’t fail me. We spent the day shopping and eating and wandering the town. Salzburg’s Old Town is adorable in the winter. Christmas lights line the streets, and there are little Christmas trees everywhere. We found a small Christmas Market where we bought too many snacks before heading to the largest Christmas Market in town—Salzburger Christkindlmarkt next to the Salzburg Cathedral. It was my favorite Christmas Market we’d visited yet. There was a big ice-skating rink there where I decided to exhibit my grace and athleticism. Which is to say, I hobbled around the rink holding onto a plastic leopard creature with handlebars designed for children to help them balance. (I’d like to add that I was not the only adult holding onto the plastic balance-creatures.) Mostly I stood on one leg and used the other to scoot myself as small children glided easily around me. I sent Michael (who used to play ice hockey) a video, and he told me I looked like Tara Lapinski.
I’d had my mom bring my foldable duffle bag from home, and we’d finally unfolded it the night before. With the extra room to carry Christmas gifts, we lost all control of ourselves. I bought socks and mulling spices and shirts and stuffed animals—more gifts and souvenirs than I’d bought in the previous months combined. I tried the mulled wine and even managed to bring my mug home as a souvenir. As the sun set, the performances began. Choirs sang familiar carols but in German. A percussion group did an intense drum performance. The rain finally began, but no one minded. And then it was time for Krampus. St. Nick arrived on the stage first. He spoke to the crowd in German to start the festivities. And then we heard the bells.
The sound of distant bells grew louder and louder. It wasn’t the sound of individual bells, but rather the noise of hundreds and hundreds of shaking bells, like a swarm of tambourines. As they got closer, it was impossible to tell which direction they were coming from. It sounded like they were encircling us. Finally it sounded like the noise was coming from within the crowd, and the first Krampuses emerged on either side of the raised stage. There were dozens and dozens of them, all with unique masks, all covered in bells and chains hanging down their legs and torsos. They held bundles of sticks and whips and leered at the audience. They didn’t walk like men (or women? Hopefully women can be Krampus, too.) in costumes—they moved like animals. They held onto the platform railing and shook as hard as they could to make the bell-sound deafening, and I worried the platform would fall. And then it was time for the run.
The Krampuses paraded down the ramp, and the crowd parted for them to get through. As they zigzagged through the crowd, they’d stop to growl in someone’s face or hit someone with their stick. I got hit on the leg once—a real hit, it wasn’t just for show. And though this might sound morbid and creepy, it was such a weirdly joyful event. I didn’t expect it to be a family-friendly event that parents would bring their kids to, and once I saw that there were a lot of children there, I expected them to be afraid. But when the Krampuses got in their faces and made sounds as they sat on their dad’s shoulders, they didn’t scream or cry. Instead, they laughed, delighted, and then Krampus would pause for a selfie. Some of the Krampuses found people in the audience they knew, or people would grab them from the crowd for a photo. It was the kind of spooky that makes you unable to stop giggling. St. Nicholas was there, too, along with his angelic helpers—women wearing white. It took a long time for the whole line of them to get through the thick crowd, and they finally left the market to parade through other parts of the city.
We left the market, delighted and hungry. We had just finished our dinner in a popular restaurant across town and stood up to leave when I heard the bells again. And there they were—a handful of Krampuses barged into the restaurant with St. Nick following along. The restaurant workers clearly see this multiple times per year and carried on working as usual, but the diners were shocked and thrilled. The Krampuses leered over people at their tables, shoved their faces between couples, and stomped around jangling their bells. We stopped in the hallway to watch before leaving, and a Krampus came and rested his arm on my mom’s shoulder. She froze, nervous and wide-eyed with her face next to the monstrous mask. “Oh, hello, thank you,” she muttered without looking at him.
On the night of December 5th, St. Nicholas brings gifts to those who deserve them. Children set their shoes by the door so he can leave small gifts inside. My mom and I put our shoes next to the hostel door, and by morning, treats and gifts had magically appeared. (Coincidentally, these were the treats we’d purchased for ourselves the day before, and one or the other of us may have helped in relocating them to the shoes. But just because St. Nick needs a helper or two doesn’t make him any less magical.) It was our last full day in Europe, and we headed out long before the sun rose to catch the train to our final Christmas Market.
