I’m the grounded buoy amongst a hazy, bobbing, throbbing sea
of bright orange. I carefully weave the
baby carriage through the crowd, and my 6-month old’s eyes are as wide as
mine. A 6 ½ foot tall lion with a Dutch
flag draped around him like a cape glides by us, accompanied by five skinny
girls in skinny jeans with orange feathers and beads wrapped around their long
necks. I spot another lion, sitting at
the permanent wooden tables in the middle eating French fries. His headdress is sitting on the table though,
in order to consume that favorite of Dutch snacks. Another gaggle of girls walk by and I
continue to carefully maneuver around them.
They wear blow up orange crowns on their heads and bright orange
sunglasses on their faces. The excited,
drunken, buzz of the crowd is deafening, and as if it couldn’t get any louder –
the Intercity train from Amsterdam
to The Hague whips through the station
above our heads at lightning speed with a thunderous roar. Leiden Central Station is not one of its
stops. I pass more male college students
with their faces painted and a girl with an orange feather sticking straight up
like a question mark from her head. The
whole scene reminds me of a University
of Tennessee tailgate crossed with
a Dr. Seuss book.
Queen's Day in Leiden |
Once I have walked
past the flower shop, the plethora of food vendors, the bookstore, I arrive at
my destination: The Hema. From what I’ve gathered, Hema is similar to
Target in the U.S. There is a larger Hema in town, but the train
station version is quite interesting to me.
I’m not sure how they decided what to put in the smaller version, but
you can buy sliced ham, crayons, bras, birthday candles (unfortunately, I
realized this a week too late for the 2-year old’s bday), print photos,
hairclips, men’s underwear, stockings, bells for your bike, fresh(ish)
sandwiches, notebooks, wine, amongst other seemingly random things. They do not sell hairdryers. I looked, my second day here. It was my first quest amongst many, many
other things I would hunt down. I
figured travelers need hairdryers?
They’ve got underwear in case you pop up naked like Henry from The Time Traveler’s Wife, but alas, hairdryers
didn’t make the list. But anyway, it is typically
very convenient and only a five-minute walk from our house; however, on this
particular day, at this particular moment, I completely misjudged my decision
to just run to the train station with the baby to pick up a bottle of wine at 6:00 p.m. on Queen’s Day. Not only was the train station a vessel for
transporting and feeding the masses after a day-long (or perhaps, for some,
weekend long) revelry, celebrating life, liberty, and Heineken, but apparently
a good place to pick up some last minute wine to end the evening, as the Hema
was completely sold out.
The scene was in
stark contrast to the one just 8 hours earlier when we first passed through the
train station on our way into town. The
sun was shining brightly and strollers decorated with orange balloons abounded. There were a few younger people stumbling and
squinting their way through the station, looking and pointing to the train
headed towards Amsterdam . They slowly climbed the steps to the platform,
gearing themselves up for another fun-filled day while taking cautious sips
from paper cups filled with black coffee.
Apparently, Queen’s Day Eve is an event in and of itself. My LSU-grad husband briefly reminisced about
his frat-boy college days, particularly on the eve of big games like
LSU-Florida, and looked at them with empathy as we pushed our two children past
them and closer into town.
When we arrived, the downtown area had been
transformed. Thousands of people,
strollers, food vendors and beer vendors had lined themselves along the
canal. Everywhere we looked people had
put blankets on the ground and were attempting to sell junk. Apparently, everyone in The Netherlands
cleans out their closets the week before Queen’s Day, and brings their unwanted
goods out to the middle of town and participates in a huge country-wide garage
sale. Blankets were littered with
puzzles, stuffed animals, used shoes, used clothes, glass vases, board games,
children’s magazines, and small old TVs.
We turned down a side street and stumbled upon more professional people
attempting to sell higher end goods such as antiques, handmade jewelry, and
reference books. These people had tables
and awnings. I briefly admired an
antique pepper grinder, but responsibly reminded myself that I already had one
of those at home, and we continued weaving the children between the crowds of
people down the brick street.
Overlooking the canal on Queen's Day in Leiden |
It was the perfect day. It was a sunny, 68 degree day, which we
hadn’t seen since we arrived in this country (and well, haven’t seen since). Everyone was excited to shed their winter
coats, and even their ‘spring coats’ as the stores cleverly market them,
enabling everyone to don the orange shirts, orange pants (in some cases), and orange accessories they’ve been saving
and preparing for with the intensity of a beloved Halloween costume. We stood in awe and confusion for a good ten
minutes on a street corner near the Town Hall, just taking in the scene. It’s quite an experience, attempting to
participate in a country celebration when you are not from the country. Everyone in the crowd had been celebrating
Queen’s Day since they were born. They
knew what to expect from this day. Here
we were, seeing it for the first time, in our early thirties with our two small
children. We enjoyed it. We did.
But it was a little overwhelming at the same time. Kind of like going to your first SEC tailgate
after you’ve graduated from Baylor. It
just takes a while to understand what to expect, and you feel really out of place until you do. We couldn’t understand what everyone was shouting
or saying around us. Similar to explaining
to SEC fans that alcohol wasn’t allowed on your Baylor campus on Gamedays. That’s fun.
They tend to look at you like you just spoke Mandarin to them.
But anyway, we
parked the strollers in the shade of a tree outside the Town Hall where there
was space to move around a bit and unfastened the 2-year old from her stroller. The canal in front of us had been covered
with a large stage. An announcer was
shouting loud instructions in Dutch and couples stood poised, ready to dance. The music started and the couples instantly
started hopping back and forth. Their
dance movements were so tiny. The crowd
on the stage was thick, but not so thick to require mouse-like movements,
especially in a country where personal space is not necessarily valued on a
daily basis. I began to wonder if it was
perhaps a dance-off, you know, last couple standing wins, and each of the
couples was attempting to save their energy.
But I couldn’t understand what the announcer was saying, so I knew I’d
never really know what the heck was going on, and instead picked up my daughter
in my arms and danced with her on the ancient cobblestones next to the
canal. She laughed and giggled until she
said “No Mama!” so I put her down, and she did her own groove to the music, to
the delight of a few old Dutch women walking by.
It was
nearing her naptime and I contently used the excuse to head back towards
home. That evening, after I trekked past
the Hema an additional 100 yards to the Jumbo, where they were not completely
out of wine (yet), V and I sat on our patio, sipping French wine and reflecting
on the day. We survived, lived, and
experienced something completely new and overwhelming, and how often were we
able to do something like that back home?
We decided that next year’s Queen’s Day – we’ll be ready. Perhaps we can find matching lion outfits for
the kids.
I hadn't heard of Queen's Day! Sounds like a little weather respite, at least.
ReplyDeleteMinnesota stores do the "spring jacket" thing too. Makes it a little less depressing, I guess. It's all about the reframe in the cold climates.
Great story, the photos are splendid also.
ReplyDelete