Drowning in the sea of orange t-shirts, capes, and other neon-bright accessories, just like the rest of the Netherlands, Groningen had begun its annual ‘purge’. In other words, the celebration of the King’s birthday was getting started. At first, my plan was to avoid the chaos at all costs. But after some consideration, I pulled out all the orange items I owned, which is precisely two, gathered some friends, and together we hit the crowded orange road.
As I was swallowed by the roaring music and zigzagging individuals, I realized that I had no clue about King Willem’s actual age and never even thought about why it was celebrated so big. Feeling slightly embarrassed by my lack of knowledge, I decided to ask around. After some questioning of both the international and Dutch side of my group, all I managed to learn was the King’s old nickname, Prince Pilsner — thanks to his fondness for a party during his student years — and that King’s Day, it turns out, isn’t the King’s day at all.
It fascinated me. While most of the country drops everything to either indulge in excessive drinking or get lost among kilometers of flea market stands selling everything from dusty novels to one-eyed stuffed animals, very little of the day is dedicated to celebrating the monarchy. Not that I think it should be necessarily, as monarchy is not my favorite type of government, per se. At the same time, don’t get me wrong: I do enjoy a good party in all its manifestations.
It’s a national holiday that manages to feel completely detached from its original purpose
The paradox of King’s Day is something you won’t see in many other countries, with or without a royal family. It’s a national holiday that somehow manages to feel completely detached from its original purpose, and that, oddly enough, is exactly what makes it so authentic. It’s not about loyalty or tradition, or waving tiny flags. What if it’s about claiming a random day in April to do nothing but be loud, chaotic, and unapologetically alive?
And maybe, just maybe, that’s the real beauty of it. Even if you don’t care about kings or queens, and even if you have a to-do list the size of the Noorderplantsoen, it’s still important to let yourself be swept away by a public holiday you don’t understand. To laugh too loudly, to dance terribly in the street with strangers, and to stop trying to get to the bottom of it all.
Sometimes it’s as simple as throwing on something orange, getting very lost among the endless market stands, and celebrating whatever it is we’re actually celebrating. Most people on King’s Day probably don’t know much about the history either. But they surely do know how to have fun.
LIZA KOLOMIIETS