My first real winter in the Netherlands

Winter arrived early in the Netherlands. By late November, the temperature had already dropped to minus three, something that still feels unreal to me. Coming from Asia, where winter never quite cuts to the bone, the Dutch cold feels like stepping into an entirely different world. And beyond the temperature, it’s the everyday habits of the Dutch that surprise me the most. These small cultural details shape the winter experience here, and slowly, I am learning to see the beauty behind them.

A different season inside

It is very practical to go out wrapped in thermals, a scarf, thick socks, and gloves, and anything else to keep me warm when I leave for work in the winter. But the moment I walk into an indoor space like the office, supermarket, or library, everything changes. Dutch buildings are heated so well that you almost forget you were shivering just a minute earlier.

Many homes and offices even have underfloor heating on the ground floor, warming the room so gently and evenly that it feels as if you’ve stepped into a different season. I automatically take off my gloves, loosen my jacket, and settle into the cosy, steady warmth. This kind of heating keeps people comfortable and lets daily life carry on: working, shopping and relaxing without winter getting in the way.

The Dutch and their resistance to cold

One of the things that shocks me every single day is how Dutch people dress in winter. Or rather, how little they wear in winter. While I cycle wrapped up in layers, I see Dutch people biking past me in two or three degrees without caps, and very often without gloves. Their ears are fully exposed to the icy wind, their hands completely bare. And yet they cycle as casually as if it were a mild spring afternoon. It sometimes feels like they have grown a natural winter shield, something they proudly carry as part of their culture. Their comfort with the cold still surprises me, but secretly, I admire it.

The season of oliebollen

Nothing announces Dutch winter quite like the smell of oliebollen. Every Saturday, when I go to the market in December, the first thing I notice is the oliebollen stall, with its colourful tent and the warm, sugary aroma drifting across the square. There is no way to walk past it without buying at least one. Soft, warm and slightly crispy, oliebollen feel like winter’s official dessert. They are such a simple joy, but one that makes the season feel festive and comforting. It makes it all the more sad once the new year kicks in, and they slowly start to disappear. If only they were readily available until at least March!

Sinterklaas, Christmas and December magic

Winter here is also the season of celebrations. Sinterklaas arrives first, filling the markets with decorations, chocolates and childhood excitement. Small Sinterklaas statues appear in shop windows, children place their shoes out at night, and the whole country seems to participate in the tradition with genuine joy. The sixth of December brings a wave of celebration. Once Sinterklaas is gone, Christmas takes over as the year's grand finale.

Municipalities decorate the streets, set up skating rinks, organise music, games and small shows that keep both children and adults entertained. Even in the freezing cold, the city feels alive and warm with community spirit. Generally, these decorations, at least the lights, stay up well past the end of the festive season.

Cycling never stops

One thing that impressed me from the very beginning is how cycling continues no matter the weather. Rain, wind, frost, or minus temperatures, nothing stops the Dutch from hopping onto their bikes. Even when the ground is slippery, or the air stings your face, people cycle to work, to school, to the supermarket, just as they do in summer. It feels like an unspoken rule here: the bicycle does not take a winter break. Even when it's snowing, people are biking, still! I have learned that if I truly want to integrate into Dutch life, I will eventually have to brave the cold on my bike, too.

The early sunset

Another thing that completely changes your routine is how early the sun sets. On some days, the light starts fading around four in the afternoon, and by 4.30pm, it's completely dark. You feel as if the evening has arrived long before your day is over. At first, it feels strange and almost unfair, but slowly you begin to understand that winter has its own rhythm here. People light candles at home, the streets glow with warm yellow light, and somehow the early darkness becomes part of the season's charm.

The Dutch way of working in winter

Winter seems to subtly split people into two groups when it comes to work. Some people go to work regardless of the conditions: snow on the roads, ice on the bike lanes, poor visibility, etc. They cycle more slowly, wear warmer clothing, and still show up. Then there are people who choose to work from home because they are uncomfortable driving in the snow. It wasn't the difference that shocked me, but rather how typical both options are in this situation. Nobody challenges it. Instead of fighting or proving yourself against winter, it just becomes something you adapt to.

A little tip for anyone new to Dutch winters

If there is one thing I have learned from all these experiences, it is that the best way to survive a Dutch winter is to embrace it rather than fight it. Dress warmly when you go out, enjoy the heated indoors without guilt, treat yourself to oliebollen whenever the smell tempts you, don’t be scared of cycling in the cold, and accept that darkness will arrive early. Once you stop resisting the weather and start flowing with the Dutch rhythm, winter here becomes less of a struggle and more of a season filled with small comforts and surprising joys.