We celebrated another beautiful Spring weekend with a trip to Holland to see their tulips at Keukenhof, the world’s largest tulip garden – the Netherland’s answer to the Floriade of Australia.

Adrian and I started our train trip at Brussel-Zuid. Various friends boarded our trains in Brussel-Centraal, Mechelan, and Den Haag, in what Cedric termed a “logistical triumph”. He also warned us that statistically the Brussels-Amsterdam local train was prone to the most delays in Benelux, however we were in luck and we made our connection with minutes to spare. A bus then took us from Leiden to Keukenhof, and we stepped through the front gates of the chateau to a magnificent garden and greeted with the sounds of an old-fashioned automated pipe organ.

In the 15th century, Keukenhof (“Kitchen-gardens“) was originally the site for the herbs and vegetables for Teylingen, held by the Countess Jacqueline of Bavaria, converted into a flower landscape by Jan David Zocher and his son Louis Paul Zocher in 1850, and then first opened as a tulip exhibition in 1949 to promote the Dutch flower export industry.

There are 15 kilometers of walking paths over 52 hectares, and over 7 million flower bulbs hand-planted. They even hire 12 swans for the duration of the opening period, fill their ponds with dutchings, and have a “t Hofje” children’s farm filled with chicks, lambs, calves, and piglets. It was a beautiful day, and even though it was filled with people there was plenty of space for everyone.

I found out afterwards that bridal parties and their photographers get free entry, although it’s unlikely that I would be able to fit into my wedding dress at the moment.

By the afternoon some of our party were feeling a little tuliped out, so we made our way back to Leiden for an afternoon of bar hopping along the canals. We finished up at Annie’s for dinner, sitting on a floating platform and watching the procession of boats filled with party-goers celebrating another fine afternoon of light and warmth.

Every October, Hasselt hosts a Jeneverfeesten. Jenever is a liquor that is typically made from fermented barley, rye, and corn, and then redistilled. It is then flavoured with additives as diverse as coriander, carroway, passionfruit, lemon, or vanilla. The only jenever that I knew of before moving here was what we call gin, which is jenever that is flavoured with juniper berries. Now I have become very partial to chocolate jenever, which at 17% alcohol is delicious but dangerous.

We spent the day in Hasselt, sampling a wide range of their delicious jenevers, and snacking on freshly baked speculoos cookies. My favourite part was watching the cocktail jugglers assemble the winning cocktail, a mojito-inspired concoction of lime and mint.

Here in Belgium, there is also a man in red who climbs down chimneys to deliver presents to children in December. However, this is not Coca-Cola’s jolly Santa Claus that we know in Australia.

The name of this man is Sinterklass, and he wears a bishop’s hat. Saint Nicolas is the patron saint of children. In the fourth century, a father could not afford the dowry for his three daughters. Nicolas heard of his plight. Did he suggest that women might be good for more than wives? No, he secretly threw a few coins through a window so that the father could pay another man to house them in indentured servitude.

On the 5th of December, children place a shoe in front of the fireplace. If they were good, Sinterklaas will fill it with with gifts. If they were bad, it will be filled with sticks and salt. He may also leave a poem reprimanding them about their poor behaviour.

Most of the year, Sinterklaas lives in Spain, and arrives to Belgium each year on a steamboat. He always brings along his black slave called Zwarte Piet / Père Fouettard / Black Pete. Zwart Piet was originally a devil who was subsequently enslaved by Sinterklaas. He is rough, stupid, clumsy, and cannot speak the language properly. Children are told if they don’t behave, Zwarte Piet will beat them with willow branches, throw them in a sack, and take them away.

Images of Saint Nicolas and his slave are starting to appear throughout Brussels. In supermarkets, bakeries, and chocolatiers, delicious treats in his form are displayed for admiration and for sale.

Zie Ginds Komt de Stoomboot
(Dutch)

Zie ginds komt de stoomboot,
uit Spanje weer aan.
Hij brengt ons Sint-Nikolaas,
ik zie hem al staan.
Hoe waaien de wimpels,
al heen en al weer.
Hoe huppelt zijn paardje,
het dek op en neer.
Zijn knecht staat te lachen,
en roept ons reeds toe:
“Wie braaf is krijgt lekkers,
wie stout is de roe.”

St. Nicolas Day Song
(English)

See there arrives the steamboat,
From Spain again.
It brings us Saint Nicolas,
I see him standing there already.
Look how the flags,
Flutter back and forth.
Look how his little horse,
Hops up and down the deck.
His servant stands there, laughing
And he shouts at us:
“Who’s good, gets sweets,
Who’s bad, gets the whip.”

Adrian’s dad and his wife are visiting at the moment, and last weekend we took them to Namur (in Wallonia) to watch the Combat de l’Echasse d’Or (fight for the golden stilt). This competition involves two teams of twenty men, with either red and white stilts (the Melans) or black and yellow stilts (the Averesses). In a ninety minute battle, the two teams attempted to knock the stilts out from each other. When the last of the Averesses fell, the Melans turned upon each other. Finally, only one man was left standing. Standing on one stilt, he lifted the other up into the air in victory. He won the l’Echasse d’Or, and will return next year to defend his title.

I am so happy that we have moved to Belgium. Everything seems to have fallen together perfectly. I have a great job, we have a lovely apartment, two cute kittens, and live in a fascinating country. Adrian finally has his own lab, and he has a team of students and staff who are benefiting from his wisdom and mentorship. On weekends we are able to explore new places and learn about other cultures. During the week we both go to jobs that we enjoy, and then come home to watch the sun set over the city that is becoming our own.