Santa Claus, We're Comin' to Town

We're getting excited to head back to the US for the holidays!  We leave tomorrow morning  to visit Nana and Papa O for two whole weeks in Nashville, TN!  Music City, here we come!

Abby and Reese have been counting down the days, but they've also had plenty to keep them distracted.  Last night was their school Christmas dinner (you can actually call it that here in NL).  So adorable with twinkly lights, dinner and dancing.

It was all about dressing up.

Reese is looking very Dutch in his red pants!  Although, clearly Mom doesn't know how to tie a tie.

Here's Reese's classroom decked out with real candles and a digital fireplace for dinner.

There's Reese!  In the middle, in white.

Our friends really know how to be festive.  Check out their bakfiets with leopard print decal and twinkly lights!  We love it!

 

Our bike ride home from the party . . . a full moon over a canal.

The kids even received new haircuts for the holidays yesterday.

That's George. He cuts my hair too.

It's definitely been a busy holiday season.  In the past five weeks, we have celebrated Halloween, Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, and two major Dutch holidays: one honoring Saint Martin, known as the friend of the children and patron of the poor, and another holiday honoring Saint Nicolas, who is called Sinterklaas here in Holland.

Traditionally, the Dutch do not celebrate Halloween, although it's gaining traction and increasingly embraced nowadays. We easily found a nearby neighborhood welcoming trick-or-treaters and joined new friends for a birthday party and neighborhood walk.

Halloween costumes inspired by our trip to Wales this fall.

Abby and Elsa.

Reese and Luc!

We hit the ground running in November, starting with Sint Martaan on November 11.  Sint Martaan is a holiday a bit like Halloween, where children go door-to-door carrying handmade lanterns and singing songs in exchange for candy.  It's also much like Thanksgiving, celebrating autumn and the annual harvest.  It's a super sweet holiday, and Abigail and Reese were super cute singing a traditional Dutch song (in Dutch!) with the hopes of collecting candy at each door.

Near our house, there is also a huge parade through Vondelpark.  It's an amazing sight to witness hundreds and hundreds of children walking through the park after dark, lighting the way with their paper lanterns.

Abby, Reese, and friends are ready to go with the lanterns they made in school.

Entering Vondelpark.

Thanksgiving and Hanukkah overlapped this year, a a very rare occurrence, making the month of November even crazier, but also more festive, sweet and fun! 

Abigail's drawing of a menorah.

We celebrated Hanukkah quietly, as a family, giving thanks throughout eight lovely nights.

For Thanksgiving, we had the amazing pleasure of sharing it (not so quietly!) with new friends we've made here in Amsterdam--there were six families and eleven children between us that night.  Abby and Reese go to school with all of these kids, and it makes my heart sing to watch the bonds they are forming.  What a party it was!

Reese's cahier de vie.

We celebrated Sinterklaas in several settings and over the course of a three-week period.

Sinterklaas is a winter figure much like Santa Claus (in fact, Santa Claus derives from Sinterklaas), who spends three weeks each year in the Netherlands.

The festivities kick off in mid-November with the grand arrival of Sinterklaas, himself, on the Saturday after Sint Martaan, when he sails in by boat from Spain with his helpers and his horse, Amerigo.  The occasion is marked by much national fanfare.

Sinterklaas, clad in bishop's clothing.

From mid-November until December 5, small children sing a little song for Sinterklaas and leave their shoes by the fireplace at night, filled with carrots for Amerigo.

In turn, Sinterklaas leaves small presents or candy for the well-behaved children (naughty children, so the story goes, are taken away in bag back to Spain).

As seen in the picture, Sinterklaas is a bishop and most probably has Roman Catholic origins, although he has never been recognized by the papacy.

The festivities traditionally culminate on the evening of December 5, with a big feast, one last visit from Sinterklaas, and the exchange of bigger gifts.  The feast is celebrated in the name of Saint Nicolas, the patron saint of children, sailors, and the city of Amsterdam. 

In Holland, December 5th is as meaningful as Christmas Day in the US.  The Dutch also celebrate Christmas but, historically, in a way much like Thanksgiving--bringing family together with no exchange of gifts.  And although more gifts are exchanged on December 5th, the day is considerably less commercialized than Christmas in the US, and often adults participate in a cherished (secret santa-like) exchange of poems written by the participants.

The decision to celebrate Sinterklass is the first really big cultural dilemma we've faced since moving to Holland.  The issue at hand is not about our desire to participate in Dutch customs or holidays. To the contrary, we're excited to embrace Dutch culture and we more than revel in the opportunity to add traditions and rituals that bring joy to our kids.

Our problem centers on the controversial figure of Zwarte Piet (Black Peter), the companion of Sinterklaas. Depicted as a seventeenth-century Moorish page with a bright costume, white lace collar and feathered cap, Zwarte Piet helps Sinterklaas make his journey to the Netherlands and pass out gifts and candy to children during the ensuing three weeks.

In modern times, one speaks of Zwarte Piet(s) in the plural, in a context similar to the many elves who help Santa Claus, although historically there was only one or two Zwarte Piets.  It is popular for Dutch children to dress up like Zwarte Piet, and for adults to dress up as Piet to entertain at holiday events.

However, unlike Santa's elves, who are fantasy characters, Zwarte Piet is a human being with a black face, bright red lips and big, curly black hair.  The depiction is very similar to the racist "blackface" makeup in the United States and Great Britain during the early 20th century. 

The origin of the Zwarte Piet goes back to the Middle Ages, during which time the name, Zwarte Piet, was a name for evil.  Since then, there have been a variety of interpretations as to the origin of Zwarte Piet, although the Dutch most commonly insist on two modern versions.  The first story explains that the black helper is an Ethiopian slave boy freed by Sinterklaas, who is so grateful that he agrees to stay with Sinterklaas as his helper.  The second story, considered by many to be a "cover story," assumes that the Piet has a black face from climbing down the chimney where he gets dirty with soot.  The latter story came into popularity during the late 1950's when the Netherlands experienced an influx of immigrants.

Sinterklass parade on our street.

For me, and for many expats, the first encounter with Zwarte Piet is very startling.

What make's the prevalence of Piets (on the street, in parades, at parties, in the mall, in private homes, and at schools where children paint their faces and dress up in the page costume) even more startling, is the often very strong reaction of the Dutch in defense of the custom.

In recent years, the tradition has come under fire at home and worldwide, and many people in Holland have become staunch, if not vehement in their position to uphold the tradition of the Black Pete.  For example, a popular Dutch singer came out in opposition to the custom, suggesting that the Piet could be painted in a variety of colors or a rainbow of colors, and he consequently received death threats and was boycotted.

Sinterklaas parade on our street.

In a time of globalization and a "unified" Europe, it is understandable that many countries are clinging to traditions and cultural practices that really define them as a nation.  With the controversy of Zwarte Piet reaching a fever pitch this year, even eliciting an official response from the United Nations, it is certainly not hard to see why the Dutch feel under attack.  Unfortunately, as a New York Times article points out, "national identity often boils down to distasteful folklore."

Zwarte Piet balloons at a party Abby and Reese attended.

Many of the Dutch I have personally encountered, or observed in the news, are quick to point out that they do not have the same history as a country like the United States, and that the depiction of Zwarte Piet does not have the same connotation or stigma here in Holland.  They feel very upset at being labeled racists, especially since the Netherlands is also defined (rightly) by its liberalism and open attitude toward others. So many times I've been told, "if you're not from here, you just can't understand."

Yet, therein lies the problem.  If an outsider can't understand, is that not an invitation to look deeply and honestly at the matter at hand?  If someone takes offense at the custom, is that not an opportunity for some soul-searching?

We spent an evening celebrating Sinterklaas with our Dutch neighbors, with whom we have a fairly intimate relationship.  I never brought up the issue of Zwarte Piet, but was approached by one my neighbors asking if I was one of those people who believed the "bullshit" about Zwarte Piet.  "We're not racist," he said.  From there, our conversation continued loosely and awkwardly.  In the end, I asked him if the black people of Holland celebrate Sinterklaas, and how they feel about Zwarte Piet.  He couldn't answer, and in fact walked away.

Above all else, this is what strikes me most about this controversy--many of the Dutch people I speak with don't even know the history of Zwarte Piet or how all citizens of the Netherlands feel about aspects of its traditions.

For the fact remains that the first illustrations of Zwarte Piet appeared in the mid-nineteenth century at the height of Dutch colonialism.  The modern day caricature of Zwarte Piet is indeed a racist holdover, regardless of other attitudes and Dutch customs that just as strongly display an openness, respect and tolerance toward others. (One only has to witness Amsterdam's Gay Pride Parade to really comprehend this paradox).

And while Zwarte Piet is sometimes depicted as the smart, savvy "manager" to an absent-minded Sinterklaas, there are just as many modern displays of Zwarte Piets as goofy and exaggerated, in a seemingly mocking manner, as evidenced in this movie poster Doug and I saw in a major cinema here in Amsterdam.


Importantly, the Sinterklaas holiday, as a whole, is extremely sweet, and as mentioned, much less commercialized than Christmas.  It is tender, and family-centered.  It is not about the presents, even though presents are exchanged.  We love it, and we participated whole-hardheartedly, even if always trying to navigate the troublesome matter of Zwarte Piet.  We have a number of years ahead of us, and I look forward to gaining more understanding of this holiday while staying true to my own beliefs and respect for others.

On several nights, Abby and Reese left drawings, letter, carrots, and water for Sinterklaas and Amerigo:

Celebrating Sinterklaas with our neighbors:

As we prepare to head back to the US for our first visit since moving here in June, I am so grateful to share this season with my two amazing children.

Abby's drawing of the two of us by the Christmas tree and fireplace, with a "wintery sky" outside.

Out and about, looking for holiday decorations.

Sunset ice-skating in front of Rijksmuseum.

And hot cocoa at the brasserie next door.

Do you think they're ready to head to Nashville?

Santa Claus, we're coming to town . . .

Dear Anne

Last night, Doug and I attended a lecture and tour of the Anne Frank House, our first visit to the museum since arriving in Amsterdam.

The house is on the Prinsengracht (Prince's Canal) in the Jordaan, a very popular, trendy neighborhood in the centre of Amsterdam.  You can see the house below in blue.

To escape the Nazis, Anne Frank and seven other Jewish people (including her mother, father and sister) spent twenty-five months hiding in a small section at the back of the house, which Anne called the "Secret Annex."

"Not being able to go outside upsets me more than I can say, and I'm terrified our hiding place will be discovered and that we'll be shot."  Anne Frank

The group did not go outside for two years, and could only see glimpses of the sky, the chestnut tree in the back garden, and Westerkerk (church in foreground) from a tiny window in the attic.  All other windows were blacked out.

Anne writes of listening to the church bells sound--one of the few noises of outside life that they could hear from inside the annex.

Here's a photo of Anne with her mother, Edith, and sister, Margot.

The family fled Germany for the Netherlands in 1930, recognizing the threat of the Nazis.  For seven years, the family led a very normal life; Father Otto starting a business, and the two sisters attending school.

The Germans invaded Holland in May of 1940, first bombing and destroying Rotterdam.  With Amsterdam under threat, the Dutch government surrendered to the Germans within five days.

The Frank family went into hiding on July 5, 1942, after receiving a letter demanding the deportation of Anne's sister, Margot, to a labor camp in Germany.

The group of seven were helped while in hiding by four office workers in the building who brought food and other necessities.

During the day, no one could walk around or use the toilet for fear of causing the floor boards to creak, alerting the warehouse workers below to their existence.  Neighbors thought the Frank family had fled to Switzerland where they had family.

On August 4, an anonymous person betrayed the family, and all seven, plus two helpers, were arrested.  They were ultimately sent on to Auschwitz.  Only Otto Frank, Anne's father, survived.  Anne, her sister and mother all died within a few weeks of the liberation of Auschwitz.

During their two years of hiding, Anne and her sister both kept diaries.

German authorities confiscated everything in the secret annex, but two of the helpers, who had survived the arrest, later searched the area and found Anne's diary.  Margot's was never found.

The diary was first published in 1947 under the direction of Otto, who wanted to fulfill Anne's wishes that the diary be published after the war.  She dreamed of becoming a writer or a journalist.

One reviewer wrote this:

"To me, however, this apparently inconsequential diary by a child... stammered out in a child's voice, embodies all the hideousness of fascism, more so than all the evidence at Nuremberg put together."

On a personal note, when I was nine years old, my Nana took me to the bookstore and said I could pick out five books and that she would buy them for me.  I trotted up to her with a selection that she deemed too old for a girl my age (I'm sure this meant I had an armful of Judy Bloom books), and she sent me back to the stacks.  I returned with some other choices, one of which was Anne Frank's Diary.  My Nana shook her head no, I persisted, and she relented.  I read the book in a day and then approached my Nana with a million questions.  She still speaks vividly of her struggle to explain the Holocaust to me in terms that could educate but not frighten.

I don't remember what questions I asked.  I do know that I did not understand the tragedy of these events in that moment; this didn't happen until I was much older. However, I very much recall identifying with Anne, a girl just a few years older than me, who also liked to write and throughout her diary talked of many things I could really relate to.

The experience of millions of people during the war is lost forever, only their names listed in a book in memoriam.  Certainly, this is why Anne's diary resonates so deeply worldwide.  She offers us glimpses into the terror, the tragedy, the unfathomable; but she also reveals the humanity and courage in the face of it.  In 1940, there were 135,000 Jewish people in the Netherlands.  By the end of the war, 100,000 had died.

I am reminded of all of this during the holiday season, especially Hanukkah.

On a final note, I find myself haunted by the fate of those who survive these kind of tragedies.

A few months ago, Doug and I watched "Sophie's Choice," a fictional account of a mother who survives the Holocaust, but whose children and other family are killed.  I had not read the book, and this was my first time seeing the movie.  While the mother is fictional, and also a non-Jewish person persecuted in a concentration camp, the story still shows the profound guilt and impossible task of continuing on that survivors experience.  I simply cannot shake the sickening I feel when thinking about the "choice" this mother made.

And I am equally as haunted by this photo of Otto, standing in the secret annex after the war.

Otto died in 1980 at the age of ninety-one.  He eventually got remarried to another survivor and migrated to Switzerland.

In an interview that we were able to view at the museum, he said that he was on very tender and wonderful terms with his daughter, Anne; but even he was surprised to read her diary and become aware of her seriousness, her depth of feeling and understanding.

In the end, he said in the interview, he didn't think one could ever really know their children.

Buurman en Buurman Ballerina

So proud of our little twitter-bug!

Abigail performed last night in her annual ballet recital as a character from the popular Dutch children's cartoon Buurman en Buurman. 

Abigail is in yellow, bottom row, far right!

Abby has been doing ballet for a couple of years now, and she always bounces into class with passion and confidence.  She is a joy to watch.

Even here in Amsterdam, where the class is conducted in Dutch and the dance studio is characteristically Dutch (chaotic, no parents allowed, and crazy steep stairs), Abby still loves going to ballet each week.

At the dance studio.

Last night, she spent four hours backstage with her friend, Isabella, who goes to French school with her.  We didn't see her until after the performance, but she was beaming when we finally scooped her up at the artist's exit.

From left, Abby is second girl in yellow shirt and black cap.

Abby and Isabella

The recital program for "Balletschool De Toverfluit" (The Magic Flute Ballet School).

Amsterdam-Costa Rica

Thanks, Pop Pop, for a fun Saturday morning decorating holiday cookies while Skyping!

Abby and Reese love calling their grandfather in Costa Rica, and we appreciate you staying up so late to talk to us during our morning. 

Last night, the kids and I ordered pizza and made the cookies while we waited for Dad to return from a business trip to Russia.

Save for one snowflake, I accidentally sent the holiday cookie cutters to storage, not to Amsterdam.  So we made due with stars, hearts, a Lightening McQueen and a Mater.

We also had a tulip cookie cutter, which felt pretty appropriate here in Holland.  Holiday tulips, very sweet.

Happy, Happy Fifth NIght of Hanukkah

Potato latkes, applesauce, smoked salmon with cream cheese on bagels, plus two very thankful children . . . the prefect ingredients for a sweet Sunday night celebration of the fifth night of Hanukkah.