It’s that time of year again: Edinburgh is cold, dark by 3:40 pm, and aggressively twinkly. Which can only mean one thing: the Christmas markets are back to drain your wallet. If you’re planning a trip down to Princes Street Gardens this festive season, here’s your definitive guide to avoiding disappointment, frostbite, and emotional collapse.
You will queue more than anything else
The markets run on a simple principle: if you see the castle, you are probably also standing in a line. Queues include, but are not limited to:
- The queue to get IN
- The queue to get DOWN the stairs
- The queue for the food that will underwhelm you
- The queue for a photo you will never post
- The queue to get OUT (yes, really)
If Santa really cared, he’d deliver fast-track wristbands. But alas, he does not. I recommend that you avoid weekends. Weekday afternoons are your best shot at walking more than two metres without being body-checked by someone holding a GoPro.
Don’t be fooled, I took this picture in the middle of a queue
The prices that stole Christmas
If you thought your rent increase was offensive, wait until you meet the Christmas market price list. After all, tis the season to take out a loan.
I did some investigating, and here is this year’s average damage:
- Hot Chocolate: £5.50-£8. The basic one costs about £5.50, and then they slowly increase in price depending on how many toppings you care to indulge in.
- Bratwurst: £6-£8. It’s a sausage in a bun… I’ll leave it at that.
- Churros: £7-£9. Delicious? Yes. Overpriced? Also yes.
- Mulled wine: £12+ (more if you don’t return the mug). It’s warm, it’s festive, and it’s the closest you’ll get to feeling like a character in a Netflix Christmas film. But it costs a frankly unhinged amount.
- Decorations: £10-£25. Most stalls sell tiny wooden ornaments that cost more than your entire home’s Christmas décor. If you want a handcrafted bauble, be prepared to pay £15-£20 for something that WILL absolutely break in your backpack on the way home.
- Rides: the true budget-breakers. The Big Wheel costs about £12 per adult, which seems cute until you realise you’ve paid double digits to sit in a slow moving circle.
- Ice skating: from £15. Plus, locker fees, plus penguin aids if you can’t skate. Suddenly, you’re spending £18 just to fall over in public.
You are paying premium prices for premium vibes, not premium goods. But honestly? It’s Christmas. Time isn’t real. Money isn’t real. Treat yourself.
This cost me £7 x
Dress festive, but also dress for the Arctic tundra
You know how the George Square wind is bad? The market wind is worse. It sneaks up the hill from Princes Street with the velocity of someone who just discovered they have overdue library fines. I recommend you wear:
- A proper coat, not your funky Depop jacket
- Gloves that actually cover your fingers
- A scarf large enough to double as a survival tent
You may think you’ll be warm because of all the people packed around you, but actually, you’ll still be freezing. You’ll also just be annoyed.
The wind swept the crowd away
Getting a cute photo is basically a Christmas miracle
Every year, thousands of students descend on the markets with one mission: secure the festive Instagram photo. You know the one – soft fairy lights, mulled-wine glow, subtle sparkle, maybe a blurry castle in the background. Unfortunately, reality has other plans.
The markets look gorgeous, but the second you flip your camera, every light behind you decides to flare like you’re filming a documentary on UFO sightings.
Photobombs are not just likely, they are guaranteed. You are never alone in a photo. Featuring cameo appearances include (but are not limited to):
- A child mid-scream
- A Dad eating a bratwurst aggressively close to the lens
- A couple arguing about which direction John Lewis is
- Someone in a sequin puffer jacket reflecting the entire universe
- A stranger staring into the camera with the dead-eyed intensity of a Victorian spirit photograph
If you want a good photo, I suggest bringing someone who identifies as a content creator.
She might be crowded but she is pretty
Logistics and accessibility
It’s fun to joke about overpriced hot chocolate and rogue wind, but here’s the stuff that will actually save you from a festive meltdown.
Entrances and exits are a labyrinth: depending on the day, the markets operate on a mysterious one-way system that changes with no warning. One minute you’re walking semi-freely, the next you’re being herded down the steps by Waverley Bridge like cattle being birthed into the night. The general rule: If you think it’s the entrance, it’s probably the exit.
Bag searches are a thing: they’re not intense, but they do slow everything down. Outside drinks (non-alcoholic) are allowed if you are looking to save a few pennies.
Accessibility exists but is complicated. The upper section near Princes Street is fairly manageable, but once you descend into the lower gardens, things get narrow, steep, and crowded, like someone tried to build a Christmas village inside a shoebox. Accessible routes do exist, but the crowds tend to block them.
If accessibility is essential, aim for quieter weekday slots and avoid peak evenings.
Manage your expectations (how not to ruin Christmas for yourself)
Here’s the truth nobody tells you: the Christmas Markets aren’t disappointing; your expectations are delusional. If you go thinking it’s going to be a Hallmark movie, you will absolutely leave feeling betrayed. This isn’t Hallmark, this is Edinburgh.
So, after all the queues, the wind attacks, the hot chocolate-induced debt… are the Edinburgh Christmas Markets actually worth it?
Weirdly, yes.
There’s something about the lights, the noise, the sugar, the absolute spectacle of it all, that pulls you in every single year. Even when you swear you’re not going back because “it’s literally daylight robbery,” you absolutely will. Next week. With more friends. And a worse budget.
So go anyway. Even if you have to remortgage your future, your flat, and your student loan to afford a churro. It’s Christmas after all.
