Advent Calender 2014 - Day 1
Dec 1, 2014 14:20:29 GMT -7
Post by Solus on Dec 1, 2014 14:20:29 GMT -7
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For me the holidays started on the 15th of November, cursing how easily I was swayed into doing this I found myself that day on the riverside in the city Gouda in the company of some family friends. Them and their snotty brats. And snotty they were, despite the mild sea climate it was a relatively cold day, one of the first of the coming winter. Although I am not one to complain, especially compared to what people in North America were going through. Of course you have to stand for hours in the cold, peering into the mist waiting for holy man to sail into port. Every year again, Sinterklaas (Saint Nicholas) sails in here on a steamboat from Spain to kick of three weeks of festivities. Where they find one in working condition is still a mystery. Screaming in the usual way children too their brats had moved to the front of the crowd, leaving us to stand behind them. Luckily one of us was a designated driver so the rest of us shared Beerenburg from inconspicuous flasks, turning the ‘academic’ discussion we had about the entire tradition less serious as time passed. A feast of three weeks takes a long time to describe I guess so I am going to save you time. If you want to skip specifics, skip the next paragraph.
It is interesting however. The feast is old, at least five hundred years old if not more. The crossovers with older, pre-Christian, traditions are too numerous to list. Despite looking like a bishop, the very appearance of Sinterklaas, including the white horse and staff, can be traced back to Wodan (Odin for some of you) and the Schimmelreiter (A ghost on a white horse). As are some traditions such as the gifting of letters in candy form (Usually chocolate) which is claimed to have something to do with the legend of Odin teaching man to write runes. Overall Sinterklaas is a good guy, giving gifts to children. In the three weeks leading up to his day on the fifth of December children all over the country will put their shoes next to the hearth, filled with a carrot for Sinterklaas’s horse. In return for the carrot the holy man replaces it with candy, like a reverse tooth fairy, for all good children. Unlike a more mellow version of the guy which seems to be popular in some weird place towards the west, Sinterklaas doesn’t do this alone. Oh no, of course Sinterklaas is way too old to go down the chimney himself (Also it would be retarded to think that one old guy could deliver packages to all houses in the country on one night). To that end he has his helpers, Zwarte Pieten (black Petes), men who climb down the chimney to do the actual exchange. If Zwarte Pieten are black guys or if they are black from the chimney soot I shall not get into, choose whichever option least irks you. If you are a bad kid however this guy is not just going to deny you your sweetness. Instead of filling your shoe Black Pete will drag bad children out of their beds and cane them with a bushel. If you have been exceptionally bad he will subsequently stuff you in a bag and haul your ass off to Spain for forced labour. If that doesn’t make this a hardcore childrens feast I don’t know what does.
So anyway, back to what I’ve been doing and going to do.
On the Sunday before the day of Sinterklaas the television always shows the romcom ‘Alles is liefde’ (Everything is love). A Dutch Cult movie about certain love affairs that play out towards the day of Sinterklaas. We view it together with the family every year, it has the most adorable opening scene.
Of course since I no longer believe in Sinterklaas I will no longer receive gifts on the fifth of December from the Holy man (or rather my parents). Instead after Sinterklaas sailed into the country my friends and I all wrote our names on a piece of paper and threw them into a bowl. Shake gently and then everyone draws a paper until you have one that does not contain your name. The one named on the paper is the one you are going to be secret Santa for on the fifth of December. The tradition, not just for us, but for all people all over the country, is to accompany the gift with a poem. Usually the poem is for making fun of the person receiving the gift and to make quite a few jokes on their account. Hilary ensues as everyone is forced to read the poem addressed to him or her out loud. Each starting with the traditional lines ‘Sint zat the denken, wat hij jou zou schenken’ (The saint had been thinking about what he would give to you). Someone is going to get a bottle of perfume from me that day accompanied with a poem about how much she smells.
Also I have the holiest of all holy tasks that could possibly be entrusted to a man on the night of the fifth December. The delivery of the presents to the neighbours house by ‘Sinterklaas’. Around half to eight I am to receive a text message that is to spur me into action. Taking the bag of gifts the father next door left behind here for his kids I am to place it in front of their door, knock as loud as possible and then make my escape at a brisk pace without being seen. Success every year in making his kids think that it was delivered by a Zwarte Piet. Waaaaait a minute... Damn, I was stupid when I was a child. >.>
For me the holidays started on the 15th of November, cursing how easily I was swayed into doing this I found myself that day on the riverside in the city Gouda in the company of some family friends. Them and their snotty brats. And snotty they were, despite the mild sea climate it was a relatively cold day, one of the first of the coming winter. Although I am not one to complain, especially compared to what people in North America were going through. Of course you have to stand for hours in the cold, peering into the mist waiting for holy man to sail into port. Every year again, Sinterklaas (Saint Nicholas) sails in here on a steamboat from Spain to kick of three weeks of festivities. Where they find one in working condition is still a mystery. Screaming in the usual way children too their brats had moved to the front of the crowd, leaving us to stand behind them. Luckily one of us was a designated driver so the rest of us shared Beerenburg from inconspicuous flasks, turning the ‘academic’ discussion we had about the entire tradition less serious as time passed. A feast of three weeks takes a long time to describe I guess so I am going to save you time. If you want to skip specifics, skip the next paragraph.
It is interesting however. The feast is old, at least five hundred years old if not more. The crossovers with older, pre-Christian, traditions are too numerous to list. Despite looking like a bishop, the very appearance of Sinterklaas, including the white horse and staff, can be traced back to Wodan (Odin for some of you) and the Schimmelreiter (A ghost on a white horse). As are some traditions such as the gifting of letters in candy form (Usually chocolate) which is claimed to have something to do with the legend of Odin teaching man to write runes. Overall Sinterklaas is a good guy, giving gifts to children. In the three weeks leading up to his day on the fifth of December children all over the country will put their shoes next to the hearth, filled with a carrot for Sinterklaas’s horse. In return for the carrot the holy man replaces it with candy, like a reverse tooth fairy, for all good children. Unlike a more mellow version of the guy which seems to be popular in some weird place towards the west, Sinterklaas doesn’t do this alone. Oh no, of course Sinterklaas is way too old to go down the chimney himself (Also it would be retarded to think that one old guy could deliver packages to all houses in the country on one night). To that end he has his helpers, Zwarte Pieten (black Petes), men who climb down the chimney to do the actual exchange. If Zwarte Pieten are black guys or if they are black from the chimney soot I shall not get into, choose whichever option least irks you. If you are a bad kid however this guy is not just going to deny you your sweetness. Instead of filling your shoe Black Pete will drag bad children out of their beds and cane them with a bushel. If you have been exceptionally bad he will subsequently stuff you in a bag and haul your ass off to Spain for forced labour. If that doesn’t make this a hardcore childrens feast I don’t know what does.
So anyway, back to what I’ve been doing and going to do.
On the Sunday before the day of Sinterklaas the television always shows the romcom ‘Alles is liefde’ (Everything is love). A Dutch Cult movie about certain love affairs that play out towards the day of Sinterklaas. We view it together with the family every year, it has the most adorable opening scene.
Of course since I no longer believe in Sinterklaas I will no longer receive gifts on the fifth of December from the Holy man (or rather my parents). Instead after Sinterklaas sailed into the country my friends and I all wrote our names on a piece of paper and threw them into a bowl. Shake gently and then everyone draws a paper until you have one that does not contain your name. The one named on the paper is the one you are going to be secret Santa for on the fifth of December. The tradition, not just for us, but for all people all over the country, is to accompany the gift with a poem. Usually the poem is for making fun of the person receiving the gift and to make quite a few jokes on their account. Hilary ensues as everyone is forced to read the poem addressed to him or her out loud. Each starting with the traditional lines ‘Sint zat the denken, wat hij jou zou schenken’ (The saint had been thinking about what he would give to you). Someone is going to get a bottle of perfume from me that day accompanied with a poem about how much she smells.
Also I have the holiest of all holy tasks that could possibly be entrusted to a man on the night of the fifth December. The delivery of the presents to the neighbours house by ‘Sinterklaas’. Around half to eight I am to receive a text message that is to spur me into action. Taking the bag of gifts the father next door left behind here for his kids I am to place it in front of their door, knock as loud as possible and then make my escape at a brisk pace without being seen. Success every year in making his kids think that it was delivered by a Zwarte Piet. Waaaaait a minute... Damn, I was stupid when I was a child. >.>
When you are young you believe everything. Spinach gives you muscles, your parents know everything and Sinterklaas exists. But there comes a day when you look at the shoes of the Holy Man and think: “Wait a second, those are my father’s shoes.”. You might have expected it but this time you realize it: It is nonsense to think that an old guy with a long white beard walks around in Spain, who comes over every year to put something in your shoe. Moreover, just eating spinach doesn’t make your muscles grow and the Netherlands will never be world champion. And so you start on your life's journey to become older and unhappier. The only moments that you once again feel the same thing as when you put your shoe in front of the hearth are those moments when you love someone. Really love someone. It makes everything that is stupid or hurts go away. Love is everything. And that is what we should believe in. So what if we all together decided: Sinterklaas exists. Okay, you’d still have to buy those presents yourself. But it is about the idea: That we remain hoping that everything will always be okay. With us. With love. Because love is like Sinterklaas. You have to believe in it, otherwise it will not work.