How does it feel to start a new year when the sky bursts into color and the smell of gunpowder hangs in the air? That’s how many people in the Netherlands welcome their next chapter. It’s loud, a bit chaotic, and also cozy in its own way. Some stand outside huddled in warm coats, while others sit in living rooms watching family-friendly shows and passing around snacks. Either way, there’s a sense that something fresh is coming.
In Dutch, New Year’s Eve goes by the name “Oud en Nieuw” (Old and New). During the day, the streets might feel quiet, almost waiting. Shops might close early. People gather ingredients for their evening feast or pick up the last batch of fireworks. Sometimes they just stay home and think about what the year brought. There’s that moment when someone says, “Gek hoe snel het jaar voorbij ging,” which means they think time flew by.
I remember feeling a bit restless one year, not knowing if I should relax or start celebrating. I ended up doing both: lazing around in the morning, then frantically buying snacks in the afternoon. That’s typical. It’s not smooth or perfectly planned.
As evening creeps closer, food becomes important. The centerpiece is oliebollen. These dough balls—often with raisins—get deep-fried in hot oil, then dusted with powdered sugar. They’re not super sweet, which might surprise first-timers. But they’re filling and comforting. You see them sold at pop-up stands on busy streets in December.
Some people try to make oliebollen at home. But I once messed up the yeast, so they turned out heavy and burned on one side. Still, the smell was nice. And at least you learn from these small failures. If you want to try:
That’s it. Simple, but easy to get wrong if you’re in a rush.
If there’s one thing that sets the Dutch New Year’s Eve apart, it’s fireworks. Not a small display arranged by the city—though that happens too. Most fireworks are lit by regular people in their neighborhoods. By midnight, everyone steps outside, often with sparklers or big, flashy rockets. You hear loud pops and see bright flashes in every direction.
It’s sometimes a bit unsafe. The government tries to set rules. You’ll see folks wearing safety glasses. Others hold their fireworks a little too close for comfort. But it’s a tradition many hold onto. The idea is that the noise chases away evil spirits, making room for good luck. Or maybe people just like the thrill.
There’s also something called carbidschieten, mostly out in the countryside. People use old milk cans, add some carbide, then set it off to make a huge boom. It’s not as famous in the cities, but it’s quite a sight if you ever see it. There’s a whole group of enthusiasts who say it’s the real Dutch tradition, more rural, more down-to-earth.
You have to stand back, because it’s loud and can be dangerous if done wrong. But it’s part of the fun for some families who pass it on from generation to generation. They might say, “We always did this with grandpa, so we keep it alive.”
Around 11 p.m., people gather. Friends come over with bottles of champagne or cheaper sparkling wine. They turn on the TV for the “Oudejaarsconference,” a comedy show that pokes fun at big events of the year. It’s got a loyal following, though not everyone is a fan of the humor. Families might also pull out board games, or kids might go outside to sneak in an early round of fireworks.
Just before midnight, the TV show usually pauses. Everyone counts down. At zero, glasses clink. There’s a chorus of “Gelukkig Nieuwjaar!” and the entire neighborhood erupts in bright flashes and loud explosions. It’s chaotic, but in a good way. Some rush out to light their largest fireworks. Others prefer to stand and watch with a sparkler in hand.
Shortly after midnight, it’s common to see people hugging and wishing each other luck. Then they might ring family members or send messages. It can also be a time to think about who’s not there. Maybe an old friend moved away, or a grandparent passed the year before. So there’s a bit of that wistful feeling, mixed in with the excitement.
In the early hours, things wind down. Streets are covered in red firework scraps. Sometimes you see folks still celebrating at local bars. But many just return inside to keep the party going with food, drinks, or games. Or they call it a night and sleep off the noise.
On New Year’s Day, there’s a tradition for the truly daring: the Nieuwjaarsduik (New Year’s Dive). At certain beaches, especially in Scheveningen, a huge crowd runs into the cold North Sea wearing orange hats. It’s a shock to the system. I tried it once but backed out when I felt the icy water. Many people do it though, laughing as they run back to shore, teeth chattering. They say it’s like a reset for the body and mind. You can just watch from a distance if you prefer staying warm.
Dutch New Year’s traditions remind us that a celebration can be both loud and thoughtful. People reflect on the year gone by. They set off fireworks and share a meal of oliebollen. They dive into freezing water to start fresh. There’s no strict right or wrong way to join in.
If you’re learning Dutch, try these customs if you ever get the chance. Ask your neighbors about their favorite fireworks. Eat oliebollen with locals. Or watch that comedy show to pick up common words and expressions. It’s not about getting everything perfect. It’s about joining the fun and soaking up the culture.
So that’s New Year in the Netherlands. A bit of old (like carbidschieten), a bit of new (like different TV programs each year). And always a warm wish for better days ahead: Gelukkig Nieuwjaar. Just be ready for the noise. Then dive in—if you dare.