Christmas Markets - Valkenburg

Starting in mid-November and going through January 6th, the cities and villages in the Netherlands and Germany are laden with bright Christmas decorations, and a visitor or expatriate living in these countries (I’m one of the latter) finds the traditional Christmas markets irresistible.  I decided to go to as many as I could.

I was determined to go to the first one available, especially when my mom  came to visit me in mid-November.  One of the earliest of these markets, and fairly close to the village of Süsterseel, Germany, where I currently live, is the Fluweelengrot Christmas Market in the limestone Velvet Caves, underneath the ruins of Valkenburg Castle in the Limburg region of the Netherlands.

Ruins of Castle Valkenburg

Yes, the market is held underground, in caves.   The name “Valkenburg” means “falcon castle” in Dutch.  It’s one of the few castles built on a very high hill in the Netherlands, and since its construction in the 1100s, was the center of much attention and strife during the centuries of wars that scarred that area.  It’s clear when you climb the heights of the castle ruins that it’d be a strategic vantage point for anyone wanting to defend the area for miles around.  Naturally, everyone wanted it, everyone fought over it, and it was destroyed and rebuilt and destroyed again.

Mom in brown at left next to Valkenburg's
medieval town arch

The last king and “Stadtholder” Willem III of Valkenburg blew up the castle and fortifications to prevent it from falling into French hands back in about 1671, never to be rebuilt again. I don’t know whether his lineage ended there or not, but the villagers say you can tell a male descendant of the bloodline if he has a distinctive birthmark on his chest (yes, there is no doubt a historical romance novel in this).  Now the ruins loom large in the middle of Valkenburg, a picturesque village with all you can wish for if you are a tourist…especially around Christmas time.

Mom and I got there early on the opening day of the market; it was a sunny morning, we parked, and then walked a short distance up Daalhemerweg (Daalhemer Way) to the entrance of the Christmas Market.  Each year, there’s a different theme for the market; this year it’s Dicken’s “A Christmas Carol.”  As with most markets, whether Christmas or not, there is the obligatory outdoor café serving various snacks and light meals at the entrance.  This one, however, had the traditional Glühwein–hot spiced wine–in additional to other goodies. Families with eager children were already wending their way into the caves,  eager to shop, and so were we.  We paid the  entrance fee, and stepped into the Velvet Caves.

I had not been to the caves before this; I had thought that such a place would be cold and dreary.  But the lights within made the cave walls glow with a welcoming warmth, and decorations sparkled from the rough-hewn ceilings of the caves and around and about the vendors’ stalls.  It was fortunate we had arrived early; the place already bustled with shoppers looking at various gift items, not only from the Netherlands, but from around the world.  A second visit a week later on a weekend showed how fortunate:  the line to get in was over a block long and three people wide.  Shop early on a weekday if you ever get the chance to go there for the Christmas market.

If you become tired wandering around the caves, there is a cafe in the middle of it which serves traditional Dutch and Belgian fare (Valkenburg is pretty close to Belgium) as well as even more hot spiced Glühwein.  I had the Dutch pea soup, while my mother had some Belgian waffles. Yum!

Though I consider myself a consummate bargain hunter (and there were bargains to be had–small, exquisite porcelain boxes stamped “Limoges” for only 10 euros, I kid you not; luxurious Pashmina scarves for 12 euros; and other lovely items too numerous to mention),  my geeky historical side came to the fore as Mom and I wandered the labyrinth of tunnels, and looked at the cave walls.

I had not done any research on the caves themselves, as my main goal was to shop, and I had assumed the caves been created at about the same time the castle had been built, probably unchanged since that time.  But now, faced with the murals and markings on the walls, the history of the place called me to attention.

I found the caves had been dug in about 1050, before the castle was built.  Afterwards, they were used by rulers to move their knights and armies around behind the enemy for surprise attacks, as well as for storing supplies.  Later, they’d been used by people fleeing religious persecution in the 1500’s and 1600’s, and altars had been erected so that they could worship in secret.  Murals documenting the history of the caves had been painted there: of wars and faith and survival.

And then I saw names and cities from the good ol’ US of A.  Intrigued, I looked closer.

What I hadn’t realized when I went to the underground market was that these caves had also been a stronghold of the Dutch resistance during World War II. There, courageous Dutch hid Allied soldiers, Jews, POWs, and anyone who didn’t want to be found by the Nazis. It was a dangerous activity: the penalty for hiding a Jew was death, and about one third of those who did, didn’t survive the war. I know after visiting Breendonk in Belgium that aiding and abetting Allied soldiers would inevitably mean being sent to a concentration camp.

When the American forces entered the village in September 1944, they found it completely deserted. After much searching, they found one of the Netherland’s heroic resistance fighters, Pierre Schunck, who told them where the villagers were: hiding in the caves underneath the ruins of Valkenburg Castle. They’d been there for quite a while to escape the bombing, and the villagers had little food left. Schunck led the Americans to German military locations, the Americans attacked, and after sustained battle, the U.S. troops successfully took over the village and used the ruined castle as a vantage point to search out and destroy Nazi forces. The troops then established a field hospital in the caves, giving aid to the locals as well as to any incoming allied wounded.

In gratitude for liberating the village, the people had the soldiers write their names, dates, and where they came from on the walls of the caves. As the plaque next to the names said, silhouettes were painted “by one of the former guides of the Velvet Caves after liberation. The portraits were made in honour and memory of these brave soldiers.”

So as I went through the warmly-lit caves full of Christmas decorations and cozily bundled shoppers, between the vendors and sparkling bright displays I could see the shadows of profiles, and the names scratched in black on the walls: Bud Hirsch, Tonawanda, NY, 6/7/45; Harry Muller, Stonington, Conn; Joe Sadowski, Calumet City, ILL; Craig Johnson, Pasadena, California, 5/18/1945; Pete Henson, Winslow, Ariz., and so many more.  These were a small unit of soldiers from the 19th Corps of the U.S. Army, soldiers who had survived the landing in Normandy on D-Day.  Many were very young; Robert Hilleque of Chicago was not much more than 16 when he entered Valkenburg in his military jeep, riding with resistance fighter Pierre Schunck.  They were young men the age of my own son.

Did these soldiers spend Christmas there, too? I have no doubt they did. They arrived in Valkenburg on September 1944; the dates on the walls go well into 1945. And in amongst the fanciful models of Sinterklaas and fairy castles of the Christmas Market, I saw one, quite drab scene: one of military tanks, medic jeeps, and helicopters set against the rocks and hills of Valkenburg, carefully made of painted Legos. At first I wondered why they had such a military scene there, but then I figured it out: To this day, the people of Valkenburg have not forgotten the soldiers who came to help them and stayed with them during a Christmas that was at last free from oppression.

There are guided tours of the Valkenburg caves throughout the year, but it’s during the Christmas Market that you can go in at any time of the day.  If you ever visit this town, don’t worry if you can’t speak Dutch.  Most Dutch I’ve encountered speak fluent English, and if you learn how to say “please” (alstublieft) and “thank you” (dank je wel) in their language, they’ll always give you a smile. Whether you’re a bargain hunter, a history geek, or both, you can’t fail to gather riches from visiting this town.