Hamsterweek Redux

There's a glorious event that descends upon grocery stores throughout the Netherlands: Hamsterweek.

At first, it seemed mysterious and unpredictable. Now we've figured out that it rolls around every six months or so.

That's emblematic, by the way, of our general experience of life in the Netherlands: at first, things seem mysterious, unpredictable and/or incomprehensible.

Eventually — and in most cases, this means six months to a year later — we figure out how the thing actually works, and it starts to seem more manageable.

This was definitely true for Hamsterweek, but also for less interesting things like using the secured bike parking at the train station, or our ChipKnip debit cards, or deciphering European clothing sizes in order to buy pantyhose.

(If only I could write this in a squeaky, my-pants-are-too-tight voice: note that the pantyhose sizing is still something of a mystery!)

Hamsterweek is based on the Dutch verb hamsteren, which means "to hoard."

You know, like a hamster.

(Funnily enough, John and I also use the verb "to hamster", but it refers instead to lying awake at night thinking obsessively about work or other stressful things.

The only known antidote to hamstering in our household is thinking like a sea cucumber. Sadly, this activity does not have its own verb.)

For the Dutch, hamstering takes the form of stocking up on items when Albert Heijn offers two for the price of one.

Since we have no desire to own one can of beets, let alone two, we generally abstain from the hamster festivities.

However — and here I should freely acknowledge that I am most definitely a simple-pleasures-for-simple-minds kind of girl — I love the hamster paraphernalia. It's just too scary and weird to resist.

Unfortunately, I can't really think of a compelling American equivalent to the Albert Heijn hamsters.

But I guess this is sort of the same as if someone from the Netherlands came to the U.S. and became obsessed with the Keebler Elves in the middle of a giant cookie promotion at their local Price Chopper.

Sort of.

In any case, the Hamster gear last January was limited to grocery bags with giant hamster faces on them, and also an extremely lame take-home maze for the kids.

But this time around? We've hit Hamster paydirt.

In the form of a superspannende Hamsterspel available next to the checkout counters.

A super-exciting Hamster game indeed.

Let's just say that a little bit of hamstering happened with respect to these hilarious, brilliant pieces of grocery store marketing.

By which I mean that I snagged about 20 more Hamsterspels than the number of children I had waiting at home like little birds for the only known version of Hamster Concentration.

(Which, perhaps it goes without saying, is zero.)

My feeling is: screaming children with grubby fingers be damned.

These hamstered hamster games had a much more noble destiny: being cut and folded into slightly disturbed greeting cards for me to send to family and friends.

One paper cutter and 45 minutes (by which I mean 2 hours) later?

Voilà! A fine selection of small, medium and large hamster notecards and gift tags:

These feature a number of Albert Heijn products, including but not limited to:

Sweet and sour Dutch Yakitori mix;

Rodent-infested Chiquita bananas;

and our personal favorite: Rozijn Vriendjes, which translates (somehow) to Little Raisin Friends.