Queen's day

Walking home under a starlit sky seemed like a relief. The air was cool, and calm, and around me were sihoulete of trees and bushes that rustled slightly in the night breeze. Were it not for my light footsteps, and the occassional embarassingly loud scrapping of my shoes, it was so peaceful. So different from the whole day of din in the city.

The Queen's Day celebrations continued today, and the queen and her three princes seemed to have once again indulged themselves on their traditional 'day out'. It's the one day in the year the queen walks around and waves at cheering crowds, perhaps stopping here and there to receive the random bouquet from a royal fan, and giving the odd handshake. The princes enjoyed themselves too it seems, and this year with a bit of salsa dancing and fish-eating. Ordinary everyday events become extraordinary headlines when the royals do it.


Elsewhere, the country partied on. The entire country coloured orange as streets and windows panes became drapped with orange banners and the national colours of red-white-blue. It's the also the one day in the year when anyone can haul out garbage that have been collecting dust in the basement, and sell them on the streets, without a license. Vrijmarkt (Free market) they call it, and most things that are so tacky and dirty might as well be given away freely. But in this enlightening experience, you see Dutch culture at its most expressive. This is after all a thrifty nation, proud of the few cents that can be saved, and few cents that can be earned at any occassion. Everything, from worn-out clothes (even underwear) to whole furniture sets, from VCRs dating from the 80s to dolls with missing limbs. If it can be used again, it can be seen and sold.



I wandered the streets of Amsterdam (A'dam) with a friend, and admired the impressive array of wares on offer. Some things were still pretty decent, but we couldn't stop laughing as we wondered what anyone would want with a lonesome shoe.



We ventured forward, and spent some time at a gigantic music venue on Museumplein. A huge stage had been erected there, and thousands of people assembled before the the stage that pumped out live music, some good old hits from yesteryears, others more current hits... but all managed to work up the crowd. The sun was bright, and the sky clear. Some had even gone as far as stripping and lying down on the rubbish-filled grass to get a tan. The mood was electric, mingled with the occassional wafts of weed. Funny, I thought to myself, as I recalled that no less than three years ago the same square was bursting at the rims with a quarter of a million angry protesters demonstrating against the pensions reforms institigated by the last Christian right cabinet. Today, the crowd was united too, by the passion of Orange, by booze and by the rhythm of the music. I tried to avoid looking at the fallen pieces of unfinished pancakes, french fries and hamburgers, and had to restrain myself from kicking the tonnes of beer cans and plastic cups lying all over the place. Other people's gardens temporarily became places of 'convenience', as some guys decide to do some watering in broad daylight.



We wandered the streets some more, walking along the narrow streets and arteries of canals that criss-cross the heart of A'dam. Every street corner, at every cafe and every bar, music was blaring, and crowds gathered to shake and move their bodies. Old, young, 'queens', tourists, children ... everyone seemed to have lost themselves in orange fever. Boats carrying loud boom boxes cruised the canals and were boarded by people who moved frantically to the beat, in scenes reminiscent of the Gay Pride during the summer. It was crazy, this one big party, filled with bizzare kinds of dresses and costumes, diverse kinds of music. The taps kept on flowing with golden, foamy liquid, and in the air the smell of grilled burgers and freshly baked wafels made mouths water. We ended up at one place right next to the Westerkerk, right next to the house a timid girl, and writer-wannabe, named Anne Frank hid during the War. The loud band, stringy sounds of hot guitars and incessant drumming that played classic rock and pop songs could not have been a more stark contrast to what happened so many decades ago. People all over the place drank and ate, feasted and partied like there's no tomorrow. Perhaps trying to not remember that tomorrow there's still work... or in our case, class.

I generally am not such a big fan of such street parties where you have to really fight for your space if you want to continue walking. But it's always nice to see what kind of craziness people get up to. And it's always nice to do it with friends, and have something worth remembering about, so that one day we can look back and say: "Remember then..."