I see men; for I behold them as trees, walking (Mark 8:24)

We didn't set out to find the perfect Christmas tree, but we could have. Every city had some sort of non-deciduous display in nearly every plaza. This was less of a surprise when we found out that the first documented use of an evergreen tree in a winter celebration took place in Riga in 1510. Legend holds that the tree was decorated with paper flowers, attended by men wearing black hats, then burnt in a bonfire. A plaque, engraved with "The First New Years Tree in Riga in 1510" in eight languages, marks the spot in the Rātslaukums (Town Hall Square):

At the beginning of our trip, two days before Christmas, we still had the chance to pick up a last-minute Tannenbaum of our own, at the Munich Christkindl Markt. This one in particular seemed to be calling to us; with the streaming light, I could almost hear the angels sing:

The main tree at Berlin's Christmas market, Gendarmenmarkt, prompted a similar sort of awe. It was erected beside Kaiser Wilhelm Gedächtniskirche, consisting of two churches: a 19th century cathedral serving as a bombed-out reminder of British air raids during World War II and a 20th century structure featuring a cross made of nails from Coventry Cathedral, a British church destroyed by the German Luftwaffe. The thought of such merriment taking place in the shadow of such destruction was nearly as breathtaking:

We were lucky enough to see the two trees in Stare Miasto (Old Town) of Warsaw on Christmas Day. The one in Rynek Starego Miasta (Market Square) was drawing more attention and photos, but I liked the medieval background of this one more. Plus, the busker playing "Silent Night" on the accordion added a special touch:

Vilnius was perhaps the most clean-cut of the Baltic capitals, which was apparent even in its holiday display. Lest you become too consumed by the pagan roots of the Christmas tree, in the square by the Zemutines Pilies (Lower Castle), a nativity could be found only a stone's throw away:

Oh sure, Riga puts up a tree right next to the plaque, but it's not the main attraction anymore. After all, it's pretty far away from all the nightlife (read: strip clubs). In keeping with its attempts to make even the seedy sophisticated, these somber trimmed-down trunks were spruced up ("spruce," get it?) with some sparkle, leading you to the main timber attraction, which incidentally is at the intersection of one of the aforementioned "nightlife" districts:

Being a port town, Tallinn welcomed and sent off ferry-bound tourists with the Christmas spirit. I spied this tree out the window as we left for our two-hour ride to Helsinki:

By the time we got to Helsinki, Christmas had been replaced by the New Year, so we didn't see as many trees on the streets. Instead, we got to see the real deal. The nicest hotel we stayed in had an aesthetically-pleasing alpine view. Pristine pines provided camouflage for the seaside sauna, which unfortunately wasn't open, but we did get to have our first experience with steaming coals elsewhere at the resort:

Demonstrating a stereotypical lack of sentimentality, Stockholm was tearing down its tree displays only two days after the new year. In a courtyard of a Gamla Stan (Old Town) apartment building, however, we were able to find one lingering, lit fir:

In the next installment: Sights besides trees that made me smile