Koninginnedag 2008: The Quest for Orange
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Queens Day
Wednesday April the 30th was Koninginnedag (Queens Day) in Holland. As I mentioned last year Queens Day is the day that everyone in Holland celebrates the Dutch Queen’s birthday and it has nothing to do with men up and down the country putting on dresses and applying a little make-up to make them selves feel pretty.
The whole country joins in on the celebrations and Amsterdam becomes one big party, one big party that I was planning to go to. I had one problem though. Everyone wears orange on Queens Day since it is the national colour but I had no items of orange clothing. Usually I use the ‘I have orange hair’ argument but at the Queens Night Party the day before the debate had started again between my friends about weather I had ginger or strawberry blond hair. Despite being born and raised ginger it seems like it was not going to be good enough this year. I had no choice. I would have to try and find an item of orange clothing on Queen’s Day. How hard could it be?
I woke up on Queens Day, got ready and boarded the train to Amsterdam to meet my friends (there were a few more steps between that but I thought it best not to bore you with details about how many sugars I take in my morning tea or how long I spend brushing my teeth… No sugar by the way).
The feeling of excitement amongst my fellow Queen’s Days celebrators on the train was almost tangible. As we pulled into Amsterdam train station everyone started to cheer. As the doors open we all stepped out onto the platform as one. There was a feeling of charging into battle only this battle was one big party. Deep inside a primordial part of me wanted to shout out, “Charge!”
Then we got out side and hit the crowds of other orange wearing party goers and everything slowed down as our charge became a slow stroll. Part of me still felt like shouting out, “Stroll men! Stroll casually into battle! Strollllllllllllll!”
After a while I made it into the city and started my hunt for an item of orange clothing.
However, the only available options I could find came in the form of cowgirl hats or feather bowers, either of which would have made me look more like an Essex girl on a hen night then an Englishman trying to enter into the spirit of Queen’s Day. I decided it was best to keep on looking.
There was so much orange on sale that I was starting to think the colour was in danger of becoming extinct in the wild. It was as if Amsterdam had become some kind of black market where illegal supplies of orange were being sold (but then I guess you would call it an orange market) but I still could not find any thing suitable.
I decided a beer might help me relax about my lack of orange clothing. This was my first beer of the day which I purchased from one of the many street beer vendors around the city. One of my friends translated the writing on the side of the glass which said I could return it and get a euro back. I did this and felt very Dutch but it reminded me I still lacked the orange clothing to give the outward appearance. I re-started my quest.
I had lunch in the form of a hotdog in a bun. I was surprised that to keep with the orange theme that is was not a carrot in a bun and started to wonder if I had orange on the brain. I had to find something soon before I started to go crazy (if it was not already too late).
On every street around the city Dutch people sell their old belongings but in this photo you can also see the side effects of having so much orange located in one city at the same time. That’s right, the colour had evolved into a life form. I considered trying to buy it so I could walk around the streets of Amsterdam with it on my shoulder, thus solving my orange-less problem. However, I decided it was not a good idea since there was no way of knowing if this new colour life form was hostile and would try to bite my ear off.
It seemed hopeless. I was never going to find something orange and suitable to wear. I was defeated. It was hopeless. I had lost. I had failed.
But then I saw something that made me realize I had not failed at all. I saw someone else who was not wearing orange, someone famous.
The lure of the biggest party in Holland had proved too tempting even for the likes of Darth Vader who was hanging around and enjoying the atmosphere in his own moody way. I suddenly didn’t feel so worried about not wearing orange. If the Dark Lord of the Sith does not have to wear orange then why should I. I learnt something from Darth Vader that day. I realized wearing orange was not important. I could still enjoy Queen’s Day even if I was not wearing orange as long as I had orange in my heart. The father of Luke Skywalker had realized this and through him I now had too.
On the other hand, I don’t think anyone would really want to tell the Emperor’s right hand man that he had to adhere to the dress code or leave, not if they did not want to die in a very horrible way at least. I decided to learn from his example anyway and enjoy Queen’s Day and the beer, while keeping a safe distance from him just to be on the safe side.
This was supposed to be the post where I wrote about my humorous activities on Koninginnedag (Queens Day). I even made the promise of a few photos to demonstrate the previously mentioned humorous activities. However, there are several very good reasons why I am unable to write about Koninginnedag this year and the humorous activities involved. Those reasons are as follows: Three Vodka and Cokes, several bottles of beer, one whiskey and some shots.
I had measured the Vodka and Cokes quite badly so they were probably equal to six Vodkas with a hint of Cola seasoning. The whisky I don’t remember drinking but apparently there were witnesses and the shots I can’t prove but I know what my friends are like. If you do the maths that list of alcohol equals about a five hour gap in my memory, some embarrassing stories and a very large hang over. This all took part on Koninginnenacht (Queens Night) at a friend’s house party which is why I was too ill and ouchy to do anything on Koninginnedag that involved more effort then breathing and laying down.
Past the first few hours I only know what I did due to eye witness reports and photographic evidence. If I wanted to uncover anymore of what happened that night I would need the help of a CSI team.
There are eye witness reports of my rather clumsy dancing and a photograph (which I wish did not exist) proves that I spent at least some time in the early hours of the morning walking around Amsterdam wearing a pink wig. This photographic evidence also shows me flicking my synthetic hair back in a very feminine way.
However, the biggest surprise came when I woke up the next morning. After the party a group of us had gone to The Absinth Bar (which I don’t remember). I woke up on Koninginnedag at 11am in the morning wearing a coat. It was not my coat. It was ‘a’ coat. I had no idea who it belonged to, nor did I remember acquiring it. Since the owner did not seem to be near by I could only guess that I had made a bit of a mistake some time during the night. Instead of picking up my own coat when we left the Absinth Bar I must have drunkenly picked up someone else’s. However, the coat mix-up was not the only mistake I had made. When I reached into the pockets looking for clues that might lead me to the identity of the previous wearer I found something that made the small mistake seem bigger. I had the person’s keys as well. I had either stopped some one from drunk driving or I had made their night very complicated. My hang over suddenly felt worse.
This coming Monday is Koninginnedag (Queens Day) in Holland. As I mentioned last year Koninginnedag is the day that everyone in Holland celebrates the Dutch Queen’s birthday and it has nothing to do with men up and down the country putting on dresses and applying a little make-up to make them selves feel pretty.
The whole country joins in on the celebrations and Amsterdam becomes one big party. It is obviously a party with a very colour blind doorman since everyone wears orange (the national colour) on Koninginnedag. There are performances of live music on every city square, second hand sales out side every house and beer tents on every street corner. This means you can buy a beer at one tent, walk around a bit, finish drinking your beer and then find yourself almost magically at another beer tent, ready for a re-fill.
It’s the only time of year when it is socially acceptable to be drunk by 11am, hugging lamp posts by noon and passed out in the middle of Dam Square at 2pm as you’re friends shave your eyebrows off.
Since the drunkest person at any birthday party is usually the birthday boy or girl it raises the question; what how drunk does the Queen gets? Does she end up drunkenly telling each member of the royal court that she really means it when she says she loves them? Do the royal guard desperately try to keep her away from all the canals as she stumbles around? Does Prince Alexander have to act as the designated driver? Can the Queen be found at 4am in the morning at a Febo some where, eating a state kroket? Or is it just me that will end up this drunk?
If both myself and my liver survive Koninginnedag I will let you know what happens and hopefully have a few photos to share as well.
Like many people all over Holland I woke-up after Koninginnedag (Queens Day) with a hangover. Not a full on ‘living dead’ hangover but the kind of hangover that lets the vicitm know a good time was had and now it is time to just lay on the sofa and relax because that’s all the they are capable of doing.
This year I realized something strange about Koninginnedag that I really like; the freedom that comes with a plastic cup. This might sound like a very strange statement but on Koninginnedag it is easy to just buy a plastic cup of beer, pick a direction, go for a stroll and see what can be found. Before the beer has ran out there is always another beer tent and live performance in sight. There is no need to make plans.
So I spent this Koninginnedag walking around Haarlem with a group of friends seeing what we could find. We spent a while looking through the open market for the most useless junk on sale, watched some of the strange performances around town (including the camp older gentlemen who was miming to music in the middle of the road), bumped into old friends and slowly got more drunk with each beer tent pit stop.
It did not take us too long to get fairly drunk. By the end of the night we were jokingly discussing why my flat mate’s brother thinks I’m a soulless day-walker, trying to flick peanuts into each others drinks and attempting to start Dance Offs in the street. Plus I started running around town wearing a pair of green Shrek ears. If only they had been orange I would have fitted in better.
Yes… we drank a lot.
Koninginnedag (Queens Day) is almost upon Holland once again.
No, this does not mean myself and my fellow men all over Holland will be getting out our dresses and applying enough make-up to pass for Mardi Gra dancers. It is in fact the birthday of the Dutch Queen (Royalty not drag). It’s a national holiday and the whole country joins in on the festivities. Amsterdam becomes one big party with beer tents, food stands, market stalls and live music performances every where. You will never see Amsterdam more crowded on any other day and you will also never see so many people wearing orange. Since it is the national color it is every where at the moment. I even had a special Koninginnedag donut with orange icing today.
Koninginnedag would normally be on the 30th but when it falls on a Sunday (like this year) the powers that be move it to the Saturday. This is probably to avoid the productivity of the country taking a sharp nose dive on the Monday when everyone is far to hung over to work. It also avoids people telling their bosses to blame the Queen when they phone in ill.
This weekend is also the last weekend my current flat mate will be in the country which give us both another reason to go out on the town. Once my head and liver have recovered I will report on the days festivities.
