It has been a very lazy holiday for me (though Adrian has been burdened with grants and reviews). After starting the day with a sleep-in, I might pop out to the boulangerie for a fresh baguette for Adrian to use to make me lunch. Then, after a nap, we might find the energy to pop out and explore the city. We have visited the Leuven Markets and sampled our way through the Winter Wonders (plaisirs d’hiver/ winter pret) Markets in Brussels, returning home with Hasselt speculaas and vanilla snowballs.

Yesterday we visited the Belgian Institute of Natural Sciences (Koninklijk Belgisch Instituut voor Natuurwetenschappen / Institut royal des Sciences naturelles de Belgique) to see the Destination Mars exhibition. I should have noticed that the woman at the door only charged us regular admission even though we got tickets to the temporary exhibition, too. This could have served as warning. Sadly, the Mars exhibition was only a tiny room with a few televisions and, for some reason, plasticine models of little green men. The only highlights were the scale models of two of the Mars rovers – 2004′s Spirit/ Opportunity and 1996′s Sojourner (incorrectly identified as Rocky).

However, the museum redeemed itself with the world’s finest collection of Iguanodons, with a note stating that they were still standing in their incorrect kangaroo-like positions, as they were too fragile to be repositioned into their cat-like posture. We also saw some very delicate crocodyliform fossils from the same coal mine in Bernissart, Belgium. All the fossils were a lusterous black, giving the army of Iguandons an impressive glow as they paused in their march through the gallery.

I even managed to get a photo opportunity. I was followed by a black American colleague, who said that he couldn’t wait to send the picture back to his family as an example of one of the dramatically different cultural traditions found in Belgium.

As I write this tonight, the snow has returned in abundance. Millions of white feathery flakes are drifting down to the park below. We might even wake up tomorrow morning to find the whole city draped in white.

The buzz of the city gives me energy; it wakes me up and encourages me to join the hive of activity. Within a few moments of waking up, I already feel as if my day has begun, and the Bruxellois are inviting me to step out and join them.

The Duomo di Milano cathedral was beautiful, one of the most stunning churches that I have ever seen. The entire structure was carved out of pink marble, and the front façade had just been polished. It took over five hundred years to create this glowing patchwork of pink. The colours varied from block to block, yet they all blended together to create a harmony of warmth.

In the museum at the Pinacoteca del Castello Sforzesco, there is a very interesting Pieta by Michelangelo. Our guide told us that this might have been the one that he was carving for his own tomb, but he died before it was finished. He had originally planned a design of Mary facing to the side, but later decided that the composition worked better if she was facing forward. Here two faces are still visible in this unfinished masterpiece.

We were also lucky enough to spend 15 minutes admiring “The Last Supper”, originally painted by da Vinci. It deteriorated quickly after he finished it in 1498 onwards, and has since had to suffer through being restored, scratched off, restored, un-restored, stoned, removed, reattached, cleaned, stabilised, bombed, restored, stabilised, and then restored again. While what we saw might not have been remotely like what was painted by da Vinci, it was a spectacular painting. The centrepiece of what was once the dining hall in the Santa Maria delle Grazie convent, the perspective works perfectly. The figures looked down upon us, and the scene was full of movement and mystery.

Image from para communications.

I look outside my window and I can see an immense flurry of snowflakes whirling down. It is an astonishing sight. Bit by bit, they are starting to form a thin layer on the ground. The green grass is gradually disappearing under millions of fluffy white specs.

Growing up in Australia, I never saw snow fall from the sky. My first introduction to snowflakes was in a Strawberry Shortcake picture book. The flakes were as big as her hands, and did not melt when touched. This is how I imagined them to be – resilient thick structures of ice, capable of being passed from hand to hand without melting. Instead, they are like a swarm of white insects, filling the air with circling motion.

In Brisbane, Australia, the temperature has only dropped below freezing once since records began, in 2007 when it fell to -0.1 ^oC. Here, at the beginning of winter we have a maximum of -1 ^oC today. It is painful to be outside during my short walk between work and the metro. My eyes tear up and my lips crack in the cold. I have a thick coat, gloves, hat, and scarf, yet I yearn for earmuffs and thicker socks.

They tell me last January it reached -29 ^oC in Belgium. I can’t even imagine that temperature. Surely the only time that water should become ice is when I put it in the freezer?

In the morning, we stumbled across a great bar/restaurant called Havana (Homphausbadstr 17) that served a delicious buffet breakfast. The chicken was succulent, the potato gems were crisp, the tomato was fresh, and the mozzarella was bursting with flavour. We then meandered through the streets towards the markets, admiring the quirky statues that seemed to lurk on every corner.

The markets were much smaller than those of Cologne, but well worth exploring. It was very cold outside, with a high for the day of one degree above freezing. I drank plenty of hot chocolate to ward off the ice, and we often popped into cafes or museums to defrost. Many people in the crowd were wearing novelty hats, often resembling a great herd of reindeer and elves. We caught sight of this hungry little puppy called Dusty, who was desperate to sample one of the German sausages.

The printen stores were everywhere, and happily offering free samples and describing their contents. There were hard and soft biscuits, covered with white chocolate, milk chocolate, dark chocolate, or icing, and filled with nuts or raisins or liquor. We picked our favourites and took some small samples home to tide us over for the rest of the winter. I was smitten with the sight of a printen reindeer in one of the shop windows, but when we went inside they told us that they were sold out. Adrian told them how much I loved the reindeer, and begged them to sell us the last one in the window. They obliged, moving boxes and tables out of the way so that I could take the very last reindeer home with me to Belgium.

We also explored Aachen as Charlemagne’s capital city back in the 8th century. We saw his portraits and treasures proudly displayed in the opulent rooms of the town hall and walked around his hodge-podge cathedral. He spent his winters in Aachen, solidifying his control over the region and planning his future conquests. He was buried in the cathedral that had been initiated on his orders 28 years previously.

Then we hopped onto the train at 4:20, sped back to Belgium at 300km/hour, and we walking through our front door at 5:45. One of the many joys of exploring Europe by rail.

I am now starting to understand the European concept of December. The air is so cold that the lakes ice over, yet it carries the scents of mulled wine and fresh gingerbread. Fir trees are everywhere, decorated with baubles and fairy lights. Strains of accordions and organ grinders waft over the crowds. Everyone is rugged up from head to toe, and babies are pushed around bundled up in thick sleeping bags. December tastes like hot chocolate and nutella crepes and tiny Dutch pancakes. They have found a way to bring warmth and anticipation to a cold dark month.

Cologne was bustling with visitors streaming in to experience its seven different winter markets. One of the advantages of having to rebuild Cologne after the war is that the train station is now situated right next to the cathedral, and so we were right in the middle of the action as soon as we stepped off the train. The majestic Cologne cathedral, grey and black in the dim light, and gold and black in the night, towers over the main market.

We lunched on some delicious garlic bread topped with an intriguing yogurt, tomato, chilli, and basil topping, and we stole some of Ellie’s poffertjes (tiny pancakes) for dessert. I did not envy the poor woman who had the job of endlessly  flipping hundreds of the tiny pillows with two wooden sticks, but the result was delicious. We spotted our first European mistletoe, bearing fruit and hanging overhead. Ellie was kind enough to take our photograph.

We moved onto the Cologne Old Town Heimat de Heinzel (home of the gnomes) to see the handcrafted goods for sale. The market was constructed in the style of tiny Swiss chalets, all bordered by fir trees and giant wooden carvings. There was an ice-skating rink and a carousel, and so many intricate items on offer. It made me wish that we had a tree at home so that I could hunt out some wooden treasures to hang from its boughs. However, we were able to sample a lot of the regional delicacies, and we piled our bag full of winter liqueurs, lollies, and biscuits.

The onto the Schiffsweihnachtmarkt (ship market), Europe’s largest floating market on the MS Wappen von Köln. Here I managed to find some fabulous purple gloves and a scarf for myself, as well as a v-shaped couples’ glove that meant that Adriana and I could still hold hands while out in the cold.

The final marketplace that we visited in Cologne was the Mittelalter-Weihnachtsmarkt (medieval market). This one might have been my favourite market. All the shopkeepers were dressed in simple canvas clothing, and only traditional items were for sale. A woman dressed in a flowing black cape guarded the entrance with a tall wooden sword, and only those children who were shorter than its hilt were permitted to enter for free. We drank steaming Viking Blood Wine out of terracotta goblets – honeyed white wine with cherry liqueur. I took part in a game of “mouse” roulette (similar to the guinea-pig roulette at Foire du Midi in Brussels). A girl, draped in a forest green cape and repeating herself in German and English, told us the story of a wizard who had conjured too many spells and had turned himself into a mouse (it was actually a gerbil). I placed a euro above the arch decorated with a crown, but the rodent ran into a different arch, so I did not win a magic stone. I cheered myself up with a traditional lumpy but delicious flat bread filled with hazelnut.

By this time it was 5pm and the sun had set. We walked back to the cathedral, admiring the thousands of fairy lights that lit up the city, and waved goodbye to Ellie. Soon it would be time to hop onto the train to Aachen for our next winter market adventure.