Seeing is believing

We believe in Santa Claus in our house.

Who doesn't love the idea of a magical man flying through the night bringing gifts? I think there is something wonderful about keeping magic alive for as long as possible. The world can be so grey without it. Even my nine year old, who can spew facts on a variety of random subjects and is so reality based that non-fiction books are better than candy, loves the magic of Santa. But our magical world was threatened this weekend when Sinterklaas came to town.

We happened to be in Amsterdam the weekend that Sinterklaas, the Dutch St. Nicholas, rode into town on his white horse. According to my daughter, this Sinterklaas must be the father of Santa. And in fact he is. The origins of the American Santa Claus can be traced back to the Dutch settlers, who brought stories of Sinterklaas and his magic.

I was worried that the similarity of the two men, the long white beard, the red clothes, the gift bringing, would cause my children to wonder about the validity of our own Santa Claus. But I had not need to fear, the love of magic is much stronger than that.

The event itself was pretty magical. A long parade of costumed characters with blackened faces, wearing curly black wigs and colorful clothes filled the streets. These Zwarte Piets or Black Peters danced around the streets handing out candy and spiced cookies. Everywhere kids were calling out to Piet to give them candy and to take their wishes to Sinterklaas.

Our plans of going to Amsterdam luckily coincided with this event. Otherwise, our goal with the trip was to show this beautiful city to the kids, see a few Rembrants at the National museum, go to the Anne Frank house, and visit a very dear friend and her family.

We amazingly did it all, and more, and the kids enthusiastically walked for miles and miles in this most beautiful city that is so very easy to lose oneself in.

I love Amsterdam every time I visit it. I could probably walk around the same block five or six times and not really realize it, since I am never looking in the same place. The houses are narrow and crooked and seem to be about to fall into a canal any moment. It is cozy and dynamic at the same time. And seems to be the most tolerant place on earth.

It was a good weekend for our family, and magical at that.