Travel

I have made a point of escaping Christmas for as long as I can remember. Not escaping for Christmas, but avoiding it altogether – the stressful buildup, consumer chaos, panic buying, the enforced jollity and parties. When the first festive gifts start appearing in the shops in September, it’s time to confirm my travel plans, ideally to include New Year’s Eve as well.

Sometimes I travel independently, but more often in a group, and while it’s not always possible to avoid the tinsel and baubles – even in non-Christian countries thousands of miles away – I just relish not being at home at this time of year.

It’s not that I crave a week in the sun, although the Canaries or Madeira always appeal. My favourite Spanish city of Granada is a regular escape for Christmas, for despite the surprisingly cold temperatures compared with the Costa del Sol, the skies are always a dazzling blue, so I never tire of a stroll up to the Alhambra. I always stay high up in the Albaicín, the old Moorish quarter, where a walk along the winding, narrow, cobbled streets feels as it might have during the middle ages. I like the fact that even on Christmas Eve the squares are full of locals eating and drinking, wrapped up well in blankets and coats. The Spanish do love eating outside in all weathers.

Nor is it a case of bah humbug! I still send 80-plus Christmas cards by post and enjoy buying gifts for family and friends. When my parents were alive, I would always travel over to see them in Northern Ireland just before or just after the festivities. But everything changed in 1990 when my brother Brian, whose birthday was on Christmas Day, tragically died aged 45 the month before. Getting away appealed more than ever.

Over the years I’ve had some very memorable times. Travelling with a group of friends in Myanmar, after Aung San Suu Kyi had been released and encouraged tourism, I came down for breakfast on Christmas Day to find the receptionists wearing Santa hats, a fake tree in the lobby, and cotton wool for snow on greenery in the garden. The temperature was 30C.

That was the start of three days sailing down the Irrawaddy River, before exploring the Buddhist temples at Bagan, many held together by thick jungle vines. These cover 67 sq km (26 sq miles) and were built over a period of 230 years, until the city was overrun by Kublai Khan and the Mongols in 1287 and many were destroyed. For a bird’s-eye view, I went up in a hot-air balloon at sunrise on New Year’s Day and descended to a champagne breakfast.

As a vegetarian, turkey and all the trimmings are not for me, and while I’m very happy with the local diet wherever I am, somehow it’s assumed that, being far away from home, I long for a traditional British meal. After travelling by boat through the Sundarbans of Bangladesh, watching boatmen send otters on a leash into the water to corral fish into nets, we arrived at our next port of call to find the table laid for Christmas dinner – in my case, cauliflower cheese with yorkshire pudding, followed by tinned fruit salad and custard.

Other unusual festive dinners have included a packed lunch of pakora with cold chips, a cheese sandwich and a boiled egg (India); “warthog on spit” in Eswatini (I opted for rice and beans); and soggy pizza in Cuba – but then you don’t go there for the food; Cubans have to queue for basics such as rice, oil, sugar and eggs. Hunger pangs were forgotten when we scrambled up the hills to explore Fidel Castro’s hideout.

In Europe, many countries celebrate on the 24th, so Christmas Day is thankfully quiet and relatively normal. In Prague one year, under communism, the family I stayed with followed the Czech tradition of buying a live carp from a barrel in the street and keeping it in the bath until Christmas Eve, when they prepared breaded fillets, served with potato salad, for their meat-free dish in reverence to Christ. (I don’t remember how the bathtub fish was dispatched.) New Year’s Day required lentils for prosperity, and pig’s knuckles. I ate a lot of lentils on that visit in the 1980s, before the Velvet Revolution, when the only other vegetarian food I could find was Olomouc cheese (aroma of sweaty socks) and knedlíky (dumplings) with sauerkraut, when not doused in goose fat.

During a walking week on the Greek island of Evia on a group tour, it was a joy to find all the tavernas in the town of Karystos open over Christmas, despite it being the low season. We dined in a different one each day with “real people” then returned to a family-run hotel, our base for the duration. Our guide went the second (or seventh) mile after our day’s hike on the 25th by showering us with gifts, which were local and thoughtful; definitely worth taking home.

I like small group tours – fewer than 12 or you never remember their names – and I always pay for a single room. I’ll join the group dinners, but often head off alone to dine and discover something new (there is always one annoying person in the group – if you think there isn’t, it’s probably you). I like the fact I am only responsible for myself and don’t have to worry if my friend is having a good time. You can dip in and out of company but also have time to yourself, and privacy. The organised trips are usually a mix of couples, friends and solos like me.

The nearest I have experienced to a firework-free New Year was in 1999 in the mountain kingdom of Bhutan, a Buddhist country with a Buddhist calendar – there it was already 2542. The turn of the millennium was another reason to get away that year. I spent 31 December hiking up to Tiger’s Nest Monastery, one of the holiest sites in the Himalaya, on a cliff above the Paro Valley at an altitude of about 3,000 metres. This was followed by a restorative stone bath, with large stones heated for four hours and rolled into a wooden tub fragranced with lavender and herbs. It’s a ritual that beats any expensive spa treatment back home.

So this year, on 18 December, I’ll be hanging my age-old recycled wreath on the front door and heading off to Gran Canaria, hoping for like-minded escapers with walking boots and definitely no Santa hats. Merry Christmas!

This year’s edition of a famous Christmas market has been the target of criticism, mainly for overlooking one important thing.

Forget London or Manchester — according to expert testing platform Which?, the best Christmas market in Britain is the one in Bath.

The historic city was voted Which? Readers’ favourite medium-sized city, and is renowned for hosting one of the UK’s biggest and most established Christmas markets every year, with over 200 stalls.

Which? praised the Bath Christmas Market for its reputation for offering good food, drink, and festive activities.

Visitors can browse everything from handmade wooden furniture and garden sculptures to knitwear, fragrances, and gifts for pets, while also sampling regional delicacies such as foraged jams and seasonal baked treats.

However, despite its accolades and picturesque setting, the market does not appear to please everyone. In a recent Mail on Sunday feature analysing UK Christmas markets, Bath was rated only “OK” for a weekday visit.

According to Jane Fryer’s feature, although the market was not as overcrowded as previous visitors had complained, it fell short of expectations in one key area: the lack of Christmas spirit. This included music, limited lighting, or the absence of traditional seasonal touches, such as Santa or entertainers.

She noted that many stalls sold everyday market items, such as bags, coats, and T-shirts, rather than the expected festive goods and crafts. While the occasional stall offering local arts and foods was “charming,” the overall impression was that the place felt much less Christmas-ready than it should.

She also highlighted a broader trend among visitors nationwide, noting complaints about high prices, repetitive stalls, and overcrowding at many festive markets.

Fryer reported a mix of reactions from Bath’s visitors. Some had travelled specifically to see the market and were delighted by the traditional mulled wine, local foods, and the town’s scenic backdrop. Others, however, expressed disappointment, describing the experience as “not very Christmassy” due to the lack of music or entertainment.

Across social media and travel review platforms, Bath has been widely labelled underwhelming this year — not only because of logistical or layout issues but, primarily, due to a perceived lack of festive atmosphere.

Elsewhere in her piece, Fryer praised other seasonal markets she visited, particularly those with strong visual theming, live entertainment, and an overall more festive ambience, highlighting how these elements can significantly enhance the visitor experience.

Amsterdam’s iconic Christmas market serves glühwein, raclette and festive treats just one hour from the UK – it needs to be on your radar this winter.

There’s only so much time to soak up the Christmas spirit before the big day, and despite work and life becoming more hectic than usual, I managed to swap the hustle and bustle of London for Amsterdam. It was my first trip back to the Dutch capital in a decade, with my arrival coinciding with the start of one of the city’s most iconic Christmas markets, reports the Express.

Christmas markets in the UK can be hit or miss, and I must admit, the ones I’ve visited over the years have never quite matched those on the continent. The first time I realised our markets didn’t measure up was just a few years ago when I visited Vienna, which can only be described as Christmas on steroids.

The largest Christmas market in Amsterdam springs up in the shadow of the Rijksmuseum on Museumplein, where you can blend the festive spirit with a visit to some of the city’s most renowned museums and galleries.

We arrived on its opening day, and even though we visited in the evening, we managed to dodge the wall-to-wall crowds. This was something I never experienced in Vienna, and on this occasion, I was extremely grateful for it.

Entry to the market is free, but you’ll have to fork out €16 for the joy of skating on its ice rink. Much like other European markets, Amsterdam’s was adorned with wooden chalets offering everything from knick-knacks to treats, piping hot cups of glühwein and food from all around the world.

There was even a cabin flying the Union Jack selling fudge. Who would have thought that British fudge was such a hit overseas?

No visit to a Christmas market would be complete without trying some of the local specialities. A Dutch wurst is a robust cured pork sausage typically served with stamppot, a blend of mashed potatoes and kale. However, it seemed we had arrived too late. No wursts for us.

So we settled for the next best thing: barbeque jumbo sausages served on toasted slices of bread with pickled onions and gherkins, topped with crispy onions and mayo. This isn’t your average sausage sandwich. Trying to tackle every bite is a mouthful, overflowing with chunks of smoky sausage and crumbly onions.

It was evidently a popular choice, with crowds gathering around the open flame grill right in the heart of the action, with sausages sizzling and emitting a tantalising aroma. A barbeque might not be what you expect in the depths of winter, but blimey, was it needed.

Sadly, the warmth emanating from the grill wasn’t enough to heat our bones while we waited, so two cups of glühwein were called for. Glühwein is traditional German mulled wine, delicately spiced with cinnamon, cloves, star anise.

I’m not entirely certain what the secret is, but somehow the Germans manage to perfectly balance the red wine and spices in a way that all the mulled wine I’ve sampled at UK Christmas markets always seem far too acidic. Glühwein is the ideal beverage to warm you to your core, particularly in a freezing city in December, even if the city is renowned for its beer.

When our sausages finally turned up, they were heaped with pickled onions and gherkins. Much like a Scandi open sandwich, it was bursting with diverse flavours, so unlike any festive fare you’d find back home.

You received an entire jumbo sausage on one slice of bread, quartered to actually fit into your mouth. The smoky pork was wonderfully offset by the sharp tang from the pickles, with a different texture provided by crispy onions. This isn’t your typical Christmas market grub, but it was delightful to sample some local specialities.

However, no Christmas is complete without a generous helping of cheese. A classic choice at European Christmas markets is bubbling, ooey, gooey raclette.

We opted for the traditional pairing of raclette and potatoes. What could be more perfect? The humble new potato smothered in smoky melted cheese.

The cheesy spuds were served with some more crispy onions and a fresh coleslaw. Now this is what Christmas is truly about. I would devour a bucketful of raclette if they’d offered one.

Sausages, glühwein and raclette: the holy trinity of Christmas market food.

Even though it was late at night and the crowds were thinning, there was still a buzz among the youngsters and families huddled around the electric heaters trying to stay warm, sipping from steaming cups, welcoming the festive season. Compared to Vienna, Amsterdam’s markets offer a more tranquil start to the Christmas season.

Is this the best Christmas market I’ve ever visited? Probably not, but I’m always fascinated to see how other countries embrace the festive season.

Amsterdam is one of those cities where you can spend hours just wandering around, and we certainly did plenty of that. You can meander from spot to spot with ease, particularly if navigating foreign public transport baffles you. That being said, Amsterdam’s public transport runs like clockwork.

From the moment you step out of Amsterdam Centraal, you can sense the Christmas spirit in the air. I returned to the city for the first time in ten years, and up until this point, I hadn’t felt all that festive.

Amsterdam served as a stepping stone into Christmas for me before I head back to Vienna again for round two of Christmas on steroids. If there’s anywhere you should flee to in December, it’s Amsterdam. It’s only a train journey away.

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