Zugfahrt zum Samichlaus

My kids made up a game this morning, called "Bus." Essentially, it was this: Ella ran around the apartment, taking the role of the bus, while Joey and Alex chased after her, screaming "Catch the bus!" This, I think, is a pretty accurate depiction of our life this year. Simply replace "bus" with any given form of public transportation: boat, train, tram, cog rail, gondola...we've chased them all.

But today we were quite early for our ride: there was no way we were going to risk missing this one.  Ages ago, we purchased tickets through the Zürcher Museums-Bahn, for their annual steam train ride into the Sihl woods, for a visit with Samichlaus.

I've mentioned Samichlaus here and there: he's an interesting figure, not to be confused with Santa Claus. This Swiss version of St. Nicholas does his present deliveries on December 6th, his Saint's day, when he leaves a Chlaus-sackli, a little gift bag, in children's shoes.  The bag doesn't generally contain toys, but rather usually has an orange, some unshelled peanuts, a bit of gingerbread, and some candy.

This same assortment of candy is given to the kids by various Samichlauses throughout Zürich.  He's sometimes at malls, but a more popular (and sweeter) place to find him is in his little forest hut.  Zürich's Samichlaus lives out near the rural ETH campus. You must walk on a wooded path for about a half hour before coming to his little house.  Your visit is worth the hike, though: group by group, he'll invite kids into his house, where he'll tell them stories and listen to the children recite poems (called Chlaus Versli) about himself (this exchange of a poem for a present is tradition here) before sending them off with their oranges and nuts.

There is also an official Chlausbüro in Zürich: for 80 francs, you can hire your own personal Samichlaus to come to your house and spend time with your children.  If you choose to do this, they'll ask you to fill out a questionnaire, in which you'll list out the ways in which your child has been particularly good or naughty.  I wonder if Samichlaus could get Ella to eat her vegetables?

Generally, Samichlaus isn't the one in charge of dealing with coal and other tools of chastisement here: for that, he has his helper, Schmutzli, his sooty-faced, dark-clothed shadow, who carries traditionally carries his a bundle of switches.  Samichlaus and Schmutzli always visit as a pair: after Samichlaus has emptied his sack and given treats to all of the good children, Schmutzli will load any giftless, naughty children into the empty sack and carry them out of the house, spanking them with the switches.

The thing is, no American child really receives coal in his stocking, but in Switzerland, this really happens!

It could be worse. Many of the countries in this region have some sort of henchman companion for Samichlaus.  Germany has Knecht Ruprecht or Belsnickel, depending on the region, and these seem very similar to Schmutzli, but Austria and some of the Slavic countries have Krampus, who is truly frightening. He looks more like a monster or devil, with a monstrous face: dragging chains behind him, he'll hit anyone with his switches.  Teenagers love dressing up as Krampus and terrorizing the neighborhood during Krampusumzüge (Krampus parades).

But Samichlaus does sometimes have his own hand in justice. Susannah told me last night that, at play group, one of the moms described a grade school class visit with Samichlaus.  Apparently the teacher told Samichlaus exactly which children were well-behaved and which were troublemakers.  The good ones were given a nice, fat bag of goodies, while the not-so good ones were handed a single, tiny square of chocolate.

But also at play group, a Swiss-born father showed up one week, and we talked a little about Christmas traditions.  He was aghast that the American version of St. Nicholas was in charge of dealing with the both good and the bad. And he was also surprised to hear that coal just about never actually appears in those stockings.  Things, I guess, are more clear cut in Switzerland: St. Nicholas is all gentleness and light, and either a child is deserving, or he is not.

While images of the Western-style Santa Claus (here called the Weihnachtsmann, or Father Christmas) have started appearing around Zürich, the magical deity that delivers Christmas is das Christkindl.  This little fairy-like child angel was meant to be the baby Jesus incarnate.  The angel brings little gifts (or, in nochElla's family, a whole Christmas tree) on Christmas eve. I've read, here and there, that the name Kris Kringle, is an Americanized pronunciation of Christkindl.

Also, while in the West, we work very hard to maintain the illusion that the Santa our kids meet at Nordstroms is the One True Santa, in Switzerland they don't even try.  Last weekend we missed Zürich's annual Samichlaus Umzug, the parade that kicks off the Christmas season. There, hundreds of Samichlauses walk down Bahnhofstrasse with their helpers, handing out gingerbread cakes.

But our encounter with Samichlaus was more intimate.

On the last weekend of every month, the antique railway society runs the Schnaaggi-Schaaggi (my new favorite Swiss word) steam train on the tracks on a 40-minute ride to the Sihlwald.  And on the weekend before St. Nicholas Day, they have an extra special running of the antique train, taking children into the woods to meet Samichlaus.

The whole trip was pretty magical.  The train took off from the Wiedikon station, conveniently just a few minutes away.  Although we were about twenty minutes early, most of the train was already full, but we still got a nice berth together, with a little table for playing Uno and Old Maid.  And the ride was long enough that we could comfortably play both, and watch the scenery besides. Friends of ours from Joey's play group were also on the trip, and it was a treat to get some extra time to talk with them.

When we pulled into the Sihlwald station, there was Santa's helper, Schmutzli, waiting to escort us all.  Joey feel asleep early into our walk through the woods, but Alex and Ella dashed to the front of the crowd, bravely marching astride with Schmutzli.  They apparently have confidence in the goodness of their behavior.

We walked over the river and through the woods, and then suddenly, there in the distance, we saw a flash of Samichlaus's red miter. And there he stood, in the middle of our path, with the donkey he traditionally rides on the night of December 5th to deliver his gifts.

We stopped when we met him, and the children all got to say hello and pet his donkey for a few minutes, before we resumed our walk, following Samichlaus and Schmutzli to a decorated shelter. Outside were containers of spicy orange tea that Alex was surprised to find he enjoyed, and inside were dozens of tables, decorated with pine boughs, sprinkled with star-shaped cookies, peanuts, and oranges: very pretty.

Ella faces another fear

Samichlaus invited the kids to swarm around him for a while, to pet the donkey and pose for pictures.  At the shelter we were joined by two more Schmutzlis, one with a decidedly feminine voice.  I approached one of these and asked a picture with Ella, and he chuckled a little, surprised, I guess, that a child would want to pose with Schmutzli. But while, in tradition, Schmutzli is supposed to be a little frightening, today these Schmutzlis were more like helpful elves.

Eventually, everyone was ushered into the shelter, where Samichlaus welcomed everyone, and read stories, and led everyone in songs and some odd little cheer, and then invited all of the children, one by one, up on to the stage to recite a Chlaus Versli. Although Alex has learned several songs in school and Ella knows her poem from school by heart, since poems weren't compulsory for receiving their Geschenke, their Chlaus Sackli,  neither would entertain the thought of going up there.

And then, finally, we got to the heart of the matter: the presents. It was at this point that Joey, bleary-eyed and confused, finally woke up, surprised to see "Christmas Claus," as he calls him. The kids joined a long but swift line, where they could receive their Sackli from Samichlaus or his helpers. Not surprisingly, none of the kids were interested in going to the Schmutzlis for their gifts. One of them, the woman, pleaded, "Does no one want a gift from Schmutzli," so we pushed our own kids toward her.

I was surprised at the haul.  The tickets for the train ride, and the snacks, and hours of playing Samichlaus, and the Sackli, were only 22 francs per child. And those Sackli were generous, with full-sized candy bars and gummies and brownies and other candies and chocolates, as well as the requisite peanuts and orange, which Alex generously donated to the family pantry.

Samichlaus, when he was done passing out presents and posing for pictures, went back outside to play with the kids, giving kids bareback rides on his donkey, leading them around the park.  I wish I could have convinced one of the kids to go for a ride, but Ella decided she was too old (preferring to play tag with some of cluster of kids she befriended); Alex, too scared; and Joey, too shy.  But Joey was fascinated with the donkey and would have petted it forever.  "I like animals," he confided.

Finally, it was time for us all to load up and go home. We claimed a berth on our train, one with heated benches, which was most welcome.  We were on the train for at least twenty minutes before it left, with Joey waving to the Smutzlis and Samichlaus for most of that time, and Alex calling out ciao-ciao!

As Ella said, "That was a really good day!"