I think I'd like to live here, in this Bravarian village:
Because I'm a sucker for things in miniature. Mini-doughnuts, mini-golf, mini-muffins, miniature cities at Legoland, miniature battles set up in museums, mini-cameras I can hold in the palm of my hand. Bring it. I don't know why this is, but it's been a lifelong affair. When I was about 12, I went to a dollhouse show (random, yes?) and became enamored with all the tiny little teapots set on the tiny little tables in the tiny little kitchens of the tiny little people. And the tiny little curtains in the tiny little windows and the tiny little quilts on the tiny little beds. You get the picture. Tiny. Of course, I have the patience of a kid on Christmas Eve combined with the grace of Harry Potter's Grawp, so building my own dollhouse full of tiny food and tiny furniture didn't quite work out.
Ahem. Anyway. This is all to explain why I have a soft spot for our annual Gingerbread Jubilee. Everything you see is made of 100% edible items. And most of them are made by (patient) children. Just one rule: no touching. Also, no sniffing so closely that you accidentally touch. You know, with your nose. We forgot that one a couple times.