The country I live in is a kingdom. It is hardly noticeable except on one day of the year, the monarch's or queen’s birthday.
The Dutch celebrate this to the extreme.
The day before, the city is in an excited mood. People are cheerful and full of anticipation. For days, the newspaper has reported that it will be warmer on King's Day, as it has been freezing.
Everyone is dressed in orange on the day and the night before.
For most of my life, we celebrated Queen's Day on April 30.
The queen, whose name was Juliana in my youth, had her birthday on April thirty, and when she had abdicated, her daughter, whose birthday was sometime at the end of January, decided that April thirty remained a holiday.
As a child, we sang Dutch songs for the queen, but I decided not to do that anymore after the first time. I went with the Scouts on my bike to Soestdijk, where the queen lived, and she took the parade. We walked along the stairs where she was at the top with her family. We saluted, and she saluted back because the queen was also a Scout. I thought it was a fantastic spectacle, of course, we had to walk a lot and wait a long time, but then we saw the queen whose scout name was Movavedo, which meant Mother of many daughters. We were all her daughters.
In the village where I lived, Hilversum, there was always a fair during Queen's Day. I spent the rest of the day at the fair, where I went swinging on the Ferris wheel. For years, I watched the daughter of the Ferris wheel owner who sold the tickets; she was so beautiful and had such a sweet appearance that I could look at her for hours. And I did.
When I was eighteen, I left Hilversum and went to Amsterdam. Wild times. Drink and drugs and more booze and drugs. At the time I thought that was fun and it was funny that in the evening you only saw drunk people, in orange, that is.
Queen's Day was getting busier and busier.
For years, I went to the feminist women-only cafe Saarein, where I met all my friends. On this day, everyone is allowed to sell anything. Getting to Saarein took hours, and everything was sold everywhere, making me nervous.
I sat with a friend in various parts of the city for several years. We would give people advice. I did I Ching or the Tarot; people could ask a question, which could be done aloud or to themselves. I threw the coins or drew the cards and explained them. Most of the time, my answer matched the question, and people were happy with the answer.
They paid what they thought was worth.
But King's Day and I grew apart.
I don't go into town anymore.
I might go on a trip around here. On the square around the corner is a children's party, where kind jump on a bouncy castle and the parents sit on beer or sausages.
But now, on the eve of the big party, I enjoy the anticipation.