Nuremberg welcomed me with snow. Heavy snow.
The kind that falls quietly overnight and turns a city into something straight out of a postcard. Except the postcard never shows the part where an Australian tries to walk through it without the proper winter gear.
The temperature hovered around -1°C.
For locals, no problem. For me, it felt like stepping into a freezer.
My “winter clothing”, perfectly adequate for a cool evening back home, was clearly not built for Bavaria. Within minutes I realised the mistake. Layer up.
City services were still catching up with the snowfall, so the footpaths were thick and slippery. Every step required concentration. I must have looked like a penguin trying to cross the town square. But Nuremberg in winter has a certain magic.
The old town feels medieval. Timber-framed houses. Church towers rising above the rooftops. Snow resting quietly on the stone streets. Everything moves a little slower.
After enough time outside, the mission becomes simple. Find warmth. Find food. That search led me straight to one of the city’s great traditions. Nürnberger Rostbratwurst.
Small sausages, grilled over beechwood, served in threes, sixes or twelves depending on how hungry you are. I opted for the generous approach.
They arrive sizzling hot with mustard and sauerkraut. Perfect winter food. And of course they are best paired with a local German beer.
There is something special about stepping into a warm Bavarian tavern after the cold. Wooden tables. Heavy coats hanging near the door. Locals talking loudly over steins of beer.
The room warms you up quickly. Once thawed out, another German classic soon followed.
Schnitzel.
Golden, crisp and large enough to cover half the plate. Served simply with potatoes and a wedge of lemon. Germany does simple food very well.
Most of my week in Nuremberg revolved around Spielwarenmesse, the world’s largest toy fair. The entire city fills with inventors, buyers and distributors searching for the next hit product.
During the day it is all business inside enormous exhibition halls. At night the conversations continue in beer halls across the city.
New ideas. New products. New friendships. And when you step outside again, the cold reminds you exactly where you are.
Germany in winter does not mess around. By the end of the week I had learned two things. First, Australians travelling to Bavaria in winter need better jackets.
Second, if you ever find yourself wandering the snowy streets of Nuremberg, follow the smell of sausages. It usually leads somewhere good.
