Sinterklaas

My Dutch adventure will wrap up outside Amsterdam's city limits. Travelers who were expecting to take the train to the airport were befuddled, as that route was not available due to some planned engineering work. Using mass transit in foreign locales is not as simple as the locals would have you believe. I managed to navigate the metro and a train (without incident!) to reach my next destination: Zaandam.

The main street leading away from the train station was a modern shopping district that was bustling with families. I overheard some kids asking about Sinterklaas. Sadly, holiday merchandise had begun to appear in the Bay Area in September, and mid-November still feels early to me. But the timing here turns out to be more sensible: St. Nicholas Day is a little more than three weeks away.

People seemed to be streaming purposefully across a bridge to another part of town, and I could hear a voice booming over a loudspeaker. I followed my nose. Families were gathering at barriers around a couple of blocked-off streets; I could see a horse-drawn carriage, and people in colorful costumes on four magnificent horses. Could it be?

Yes! Today was the arrival of Sinterklaas.

My timing was perfect—I got a ringside position before the crowd swelled. Many children wore colorful caps adorned with feathers, not unlike those worn by the characters on horseback. The announcer chattered away, occasionally leading the crowd in song. Riders led the horses over for petting (by adults as well as children); some children clutched drawings they'd made of horses, handing them to the riders.

A plume of steam went up and a ship's horn sounded; this is how Sinterklaas arrives (on the HMS Elfin. No translation needed).

Children were three and four deep at the barriers; Piet! Piet! they squealed as Sinterklaas's costumed helpers appeared—in traditional blackface—clutching sacks of goodies for the kids (little bags of cinnamon cookies). I did my part to point out little outstretched hands nearby that were easily overlooked, so I think everyone in the little flock around me scored at least one goody bag.

The kids were so excited! It was another cloudy, damp, cold day here (though at least it wasn't raining). My fingers felt frozen inside my winter gloves. Some of the kids had bare hands. One little girl received two bags stuck together; she pulled them apart and immediately held out the extra—rather than keeping it for herself. Having watched that play out, I smiled and passed the bag to a child farther back.

Disabled partiers in wheelchairs were brought front and center.

Sinterklaas worked his way along the barrier, while his helpers skipped along, high-fiving the kids and handing out more cookies.

The entourage assembled on the wide steps of a building before Sinterklaas rode off on an antique fire engine. I saw the whole brigade again, without the crowds: they happened to parade along a street I'd chosen to explore.

No cookies for me. I guess I'm on the naughty list this year.