Old Saint Nick is older than you think

Last weekend when I returned from Amsterdam I found that the Christmas tree was up in the living room and remnants of Sinterklaas' and Zwarte Piet's surprises stored in my room.



I've been doing some research about how the Dutch celebrate Christmas and I really like what I discovered. I hope you're ready for a little history lesson because this particular holiday is a wonderful blend of Holland and the United States...

Sinterklaas. Saint Nicholas. Nicolas of Myra. Patron saint of children, sailors, and Amsterdam.
He was born in Patara (part of modern Turkey) during the third century. He came from a wealthy family but he gave his time and money to helping the poor. He died on December 6th, 347 A.D. He is commemorated on that date. He lives in Spain and comes to the Netherlands by boat in mid-November. Between then and December 6th he makes appearances throughout the country with his helper(s), Zwarte Piet(en). He keeps a very clean schedule so as not to appear in two places at once. Then, on the eve of his death, children put out their shoes with a carrot for his white horse. Sinterklaas leaves treats and gifts behind for the children. However, he kidnaps those who have had bad behavior.

Although the Dutch adapted the saint and created a tradition based on the legend, Sinterklaas isn't entirely a Dutch invention. Many elements of the story and celebration can be traced to pagan aspects. The Germanic pagan god, Wolden/Odin, rode a white horse and was honored during the Winter Solstice. Children originally left carrots for his steed near the chimney. Odin rewarded their kindness by leaving fruit or treats.

Sinterklaas was brought to America before it was officially the United States. Dutch settlers established a town called New Amsterdam in 1626. Although the city was founded by Protestants it awarded its inhabitants the freedom of religion. Catholics and Protestants alike adopted Saint Nicholas as the city's patron. In 1664, when it was captured by the English, the celebration of Nicholas was mentioned in the Articles of Capitulation. New Amsterdam became New York and for awhile the religious rights were only celebrated in the Dutch communities. In order to promote New York as a unique city with a unique identity, Washington Irving presented Sinterklaas as the patron saint of the city in his 1809 publication, The History of New York. The influence of Dutch culture in New York set it apart from other American cities.

While the United States continued to establish it's own identity, Clement Clarke Moore wrote the poem "'Twas the Night Before Christmas" in 1823. Sinterklaas became Saint Nick. He traveled by a reindeer drawn sleigh (not on a white horse), carried a bag of toys (not full of sweets), and slid down chimneys. He resembled an elf but forty years later his "Old World" appearance was shed for the figure we know today. In 1863 the political cartoonist Thomas Nast presented him as Santa Claus, a large and bearded old man from the North Pole who wears a fur-trimmed hat and red suit. At first Santa made the toys himself in his workshop with the help of his elves but as the U.S. became industrialized so did he. And as the U.S. became more capitalized, Santa was brought along for the ride. During the Great Depression, Coca Cola created an advertising campaign based on Santa. He continued to transform with American popular culture. Gene Autry released the song "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" in 1948 and so a niche in the music industry was created for songs revolving around Santa. At some point after WWII, with the baby boom and rise of the nuclear family, someone invented Mrs. Claus - a pleasant housewife - to take care of Santa and keep him from being lonely. It certainly helped promote him as a grandfather-like icon. A hardworking man who thoroughly enjoyed his leisure time by smoking his pipe and eating. But Santa never takes life too seriously. He is young at heart and loves all the little children. Instead of kidnapping misbehaved boys and girls like his Dutch ancestor, Santa Claus leaves lumps of coal which could actually be somewhat useful. Instead of leaving treats in shoes, his gifts go in stockings pinned to the fireplace.

In November, when Sinterklaas arrived here in the village on his boat from Spain my first impression was mixed. He looks very dignified in his bishop's robes and he carries himself in a very noble manner, but I couldn't get the image of the fat and funny Santa Claus out of my mind. Zwarte Piet, though much more approachable and happy, put me off a little too because the costume consists of black face paint, an afro wig, and red lips. And he, not Sinerklaas, is the one who does all the work. Like a slave. I instantly thought of American "blackface" theater, the Jim Crow era, and terrible slurs such as "darky" and "coon." I tried not to be offended, remembering that cultural offenses are often rooted in misunderstanding, so I waited to pass judgement based on my American outlook. It turns out I'm not the only one to have this sort of reaction.


Video originally seen on Clogs and Tulips: Six to Eight Black Men. Go to the post for more about Zwarte Piet.

Most American tourists feel the exact same culture shock. I mean, I don't think I've used the phrase "culture shock" once when talking about my experiences in Holland. And I was in no way surprised to discover that Santa Claus comes from Sinterklaas. In the past ten years or so the character of Zwarte Piet has received criticism from the Dutch and in 2006 the Dutch Programme Foundation proposed that Zwarte Piet (which literally means "black Pete") be changed to rainbow-colored Pieten. The experiment only lasted one year. I also read that his skin-color was due to the fact that he spent most of his time going up and down chimneys so he was covered in soot. But I don't buy it.

When my friend Caitlynn visited, she had the same reaction when I explained the story of the Dutch Sinterklaas and Zwarte Piet. The last day I was able to stay with her in Amsterdam was December 5th so there were Zwarte Pieten all over. She was eager to take pictures, only to bring it back as proof that the Dutch really do paint themselves black and dance around passing out candy for Christmas. But at this record store near Dam Square they were handing out coffee, which I much prefer.




Also, I must admit that I prefer the American Santa Claus to the Dutch Sinterklaas. But, I truly have enjoyed celebrating and learning about this particular Dutch tradition. Who doesn't like getting free chocolate? All of this is not to say that Santa Claus is perfect. He can be weird and somewhat unsettling. I know it is friendly to sit on his lap and tell him what you want for Christmas when you're a kid but that is a bit strange. Just see this collection of pictures as proof.




Sources: Saint Nicholas, Sinterklaas, Santa Claus - From Sinterklaas to Santa Claus - American Santa Claus: Santa’s USA Timeline - Wikipedia: Zwarte Piet

A Lesson in Independence - Part II

I've already touched on how important my family is to me and how I have amazing friends. I have already tried to explain that I like being independent but I have a new realization I would like to share with you.

When I was a kid I viewed holidays, specifically Christmas, very differently than I do now. Back then it was all about believing in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. It was about holidays being the special time of the year where magic was real. Now it is all about believing in love. It is about the real things in life that feel magical, like the time spent with family and friends.

I never realized how blessed I am to have such supportive parents and such unique little brothers until I moved away to college. In my teenage years I can't remember how many times I told my mom that as soon as I turned 18 I was going to move out. I couldn't wait to get away from her and have my own life. It was my hormones that made me say those things then but now when I tell her that I can't wait to come home again it is my heart speaking. At the beginning of my freshman year of college I told my family not to buy me anything for Christmas. They were paying for my school, that was enough. I told them that all I wanted was to just be with them for Christmas. Every year since I've had the same request. They always disobey and buy me the most thoughtful and meaningful gifts. I thought I knew the true meaning of Christmas.


Christmas in Georgia 2009

This year I was distraught over the possibility that I would return from Holland in a Christmas-time-crunch. My late arrival would mean that my parents would have to reschedule their plans of driving from Georgia to Minnesota to spend my brothers' school break with our extended family. Since my family moved to Georgia three years ago they haven't spent one Christmas with either side of their own families. I felt so guilty and sobbed on the phone to my dad telling him I was so sorry I was messing everything up. "I'll tell Grandma not to take down the Christmas tree until you get there. We don't have to celebrate Christmas on the 25th of December. We will celebrate it whenever we are together," he told me on the phone a few weeks back when I gushed about how awful I felt about not being able to come home even a day earlier. That was the reassurance I needed but it made me cry even harder.

I don't consider myself to be a humble person but I think I have some sort of complex where I don't feel like I deserve all the wonderful things I have. I tried to explain it to Brandy a few weeks ago. I know I can be very selfish sometimes but I never like asking for help. I always feel guilty when someone has to do something for me. Give me a ride somewhere. Wait for me. Even little things like hold the door for me if my hands are full. I don't know why but I just feel bad when people have to take time out of their day for me or have to change their plans for me. I hate being dependent on anyone, even the slightest bit. But I have learned now that depending on others doesn't make you weak. It gives you strength. Even on good days here I am homesick. I have stayed strong enough to this point because I have the support of others. Depending on their love doesn't mean I'm not strong and independent. It just means that I am wise enough to know that love is the most important thing you can ever give and ever receive.



So, I've learned a lot since I was a teenager. I've learned a lot since the days before I ever spent time abroad, immersed in a different culture. I think my experiences overseas have solidified my beliefs and have strengthened the most important relationships in my life. The perfect example happened about a month ago: I received a surprise package from a very good friend of mine that contained a framed picture of me and my friends on Halloween two years ago, before I left for my semester in Italy. The changes that have taken place for all of us since that crazy night are pretty momentous. However, when I look at that picture I still feel that one thing is the same - our bond. We still love spending time together. We still have the same sense of humor. We still have dreams and hopes and each other. I can't wait to see them again. I can't wait to go home. I can't wait to be able to properly reflect on my experiences here. I know that this is going to be the best Christmas of my entire life.

Goedemorgen, winter.

Last night I had a strange dream. A mysterious guy gave me a ride to the train station in a big black SUV with tinted windows. I think he was my bodyguard. My brother, Seth, was waiting there for me. When we got into Amsterdam we got on the wrong tram and had to get off and walk in the opposite direction. Justin Bieber joined us and we made our way towards Rembrandtplein to check in to Hotel Atlanta, which I discovered last weekend. Then I woke up. The clock said 8:10. Why was I up that early on a Saturday? I checked the weather online to make sure it wouldn't snow but I couldn't get back to sleep. Justin Bieber was in my dream. Weird. But not so weird because my other brother, Owen, has hair that looks exactly like that of the teeny bopper icon, except it is not as well conditioned.



I believe this dream has to do with a recent event - I know when I'll be going home. I'll be leaving Holland on December 23rd and arriving in Atlanta late that night. It won't be fun getting crammed in so close to Christmas, especially when my family's plans for the holiday include traveling. The night I booked the flight, Seth and I had a real heart-to-heart on Skype. We ganged up on Owen, telling him to cut his hair or forever face the embarrassment of looking back at his middle school portraits with regret.

Now it is 9:37am. The canal behind the house is frozen. I need to buy some boots. I need to start buying Christmas presents. I have only 3 1/2 weeks left here. Maybe I should get out of bed.

Edit: It is snowing.

Happy Thanksgiving!

During my four years of college I often escaped to my Grandma Helen's condo in Edina on the weekends when I needed a break from school. It is only a fifty minute drive so I'd pack a little bag and drive off campus blasting good music, ready to get away and relax for a few days. She's lived in the same condo my whole life so it was always the perfect home away from home. We'd go out to dinner or I'd cook. Sometimes we'd catch a movie after my afternoon walk/jog around Lake Harriet, but mostly I'd just sit around watching TV. If I felt up to it I'd actually do some schoolwork. When I was working on my honor's thesis senior year I used her card to check out books from the Hennepin County Library and spread out on the table she uses for her jigsaw puzzles. She got me started on crosswords and we'd always go to bed late because we'd stay up talking. Now that I'm in Holland we write letters to each other. I call her with my Skype credit every once in awhile. Hopefully, this year my family and I will make it to her place for Christmas but either way I still miss her a lot.


Christmas with the cousins on my dad's side of the family at Grandma Helen's. I'm assuming this picture was taken before Owen was born in 1998. From left to right: Andrew, Seth (in the headlock), Colin in Grandma's lap, and me.

Sometime in October of last year, during one of my weekend sleepovers, I mentioned how I hadn't spent Thanksgiving with my family in Georgia since they moved there. The year before I stayed with my Grandma Sue and had Thanksgiving with my cousins at their other grandparent's house. So, Grandma Helen suggested I fly home and surprise my family. She booked me a flight and I only told my dad and Seth. They picked me up from the airport late at night and around midnight I walked into the house. My mother was in the kitchen heating up some food for the boys and when she saw me she almost collapsed. She immediately started crying after she recovered from the shock. My youngest brother, Owen, was asleep on the couch and I tried to wake him up but he thought he was dreaming when he saw me hovering over him. Usually, Thanksgiving is a tense time for my family because everyone gets stressed out. My mom gets stuck with all the cooking and by the time we sit down to eat none of us feel very grateful. But after we say grace we take turns going around the table saying at least one thing we're thankful for. One year my dad said indoor plumbing and another year he said MTV. But last year was perfect because we were all thankful for the same thing - that we were all together.

Old Family Film Thanksgiving 2009 from missemalise on Vimeo.

This year I have so much to be thankful for. I also have a different appreciation for Thanksgiving because I understand better what it is like to move to a foreign land and try to build a life. Granted the obstacles I've had to face here in Holland were very different than those the first settlers in America had to overcome, but I still feel a connection. Even more so now that I know the story of my ancestors who immigrated from Sweden. I've seen what they left and I grew up in the legacy they built in the Land of Freedom. I don't have plans to celebrate today but tonight I'm going to try to watch the live stream of the Thanksgiving Day Parade online. Then I'll turn on some Christmas music because it is a bit of a tradition in my family to turn it on as soon as we finish eating. No one wants to do the dishes but at least with Christmas on our minds already we get excited for the rest of winter to pass until we can all be together (and stressed out) again.