Celebrating Sinterklaas in Amsterdam

Amsterdam in December is a strange beast. The canals are cold, the skies a permanent shade of ashtray gray and the wind slices through my jacket like a sword by Hattori Hanzo. But it doesn’t stop there.

Enter Sinterklaas.

He’s not Santa Claus. He’s older, weirder and frankly a little more unsettling. Picture a tall stern bishop in crimson robes, arriving on a boat from Spain with a sidekick known as Zwarte Piet. And no, this isn’t a Werner Herzog fever dream, this actually takes place every year.

Sinterklaas isn’t about snowglobes and Coca-Cola ads. He’s a judge, not a jolly guy. Kids who’ve been naughty get stuffed in a sack and hauled back to Spain. At least, that’s the legend. Merry Christmas, Dutch-style.

Catching the season at de Bijenkorf on Dam Square, Amsterdam.

Today is Saint Nicholas eve. I walk through the streets of Amsterdam in search of fresh Stroopwafels. To keep me occupied, I start humming on the song from Nightmare before Christmas:

“Kidnap the Sandy Claws, lock him up real tight
Throw away the key and then turn off all the lights
Kidnap the Sandy Claws, throw him in a box
Bury him for ninety years then see if he talks”
— Nightmare before Christmas

If Sinterklaas can put children in a bag, I guess it’s fair to throw him in a box.