If there’s one thing I’m more protective of than my bank account, it’s my vacation days. In Belgium, we don’t just "take a day off." We perform a high-stakes surgical operation on the calendar to extract the maximum amount of freedom with the minimum amount of "cost." I wouldn't call it a goldmine—I’d call it a survival kit that is always a few days too light.
I’m currently sitting on 20 legal days, 12 ADV days (my reward for working 40 hours a week instead of 38—basically a "productivity tax" I pay to my future self), and those glorious replacement days. You see, in some countries, if a public holiday falls on a weekend, it just... dies. In Belgium, we resurrect it. If Christmas is a Saturday, I get a "Recup" day to use whenever I want. It’s like the universe owes me a Tuesday, and I’m here to collect.
It always start with creating a spreadsheet and start filling in the days. Blue day is a holiday, yellow day is a national holiday. Of course behind it there is a calculator how many days have been planned and how much are available.
The "Anti-Waste" Policy
I have a very strict rule: a vacation day must be a useful day. In my world, "useful" means the whole family—or at least my wife—is also off. Back when I worked in the Netherlands, I’d sometimes have a Dutch holiday while the rest of Belgium was at work. I call those "Lost Days." You’re sitting there, free as a bird, but everyone else is busy. It’s like being invited to a party that doesn't start for another 24 hours. Never again.
The Great Kitchen Sacrifice of 2026
We are currently in the middle of a kitchen renovation. Now, an Euro can only be spent once, and our Euro has decided it wants to be a designer countertop rather than a flight to the Maldives. Because of the cost, we’re cutting back—one less holiday trip this year.
However, don't think I’m staying home to watch the contractor install a sink. We are definitely still going away for a week during the construction. Why? Because watching a sledgehammer hit your old kitchen is only fun for the first ten minutes. After that, you just want a mojito in a place that doesn't smell like plaster dust.
The Three-Week Strategy
This year, I’m planning a radical move: three weeks and one day of continuous leave. From June 30th straight through to July 21st (our National Day).
Is it because I’ve become a professional tourist? No. It’s because of July 20th—the Bridge Day. There is absolutely no point in going to work on a Monday just to sift through a mountain of emails, only to go back on holiday on Tuesday for the National Day. Some people say Monday is the "ideal" day to clear the inbox. I say Monday is the ideal day to stay in bed and pretend my Outlook password doesn't exist.
The "Godchild Tax" (Hockey Edition)
Then there’s the social calendar. We have a tradition with our godchildren: no boring plastic toys. Instead, we do an "Experience Day." They choose, we provide the transport and the tickets.
Last year we went to a Football game in Germany (Borussia Mönchengladbach). This year? The Hockey World Cup right here in Belgium. On August 17th, we’ll be watching the Red Lions take on Germany. It’s a top-tier match, but as every Belgian knows, these "experiences" cost more than just ticket money—they cost precious leave days. But that will be a good day spent. Since the oldest turns 18 this year, I suspect I’ll be "sacrificing" another day or two to that milestone as well.
The Final Count
After subtracting the client’s mandatory Christmas closure (5 days where the office is locked and I’m forced into festive exile) and the days I’ve already burned, I have 8 days left.
These are my "emergency sun funds." The plan is to head to the sun with some friends at the end of the year to escape the Belgian grey. And if I run short for that week between Christmas and New Year? Well, I’ll find a solution. I’m a consultant; finding "creative solutions" for missing days is part of the job description.
How do you handle your leave? Are you a "hoarder" or a "bridge-builder"? Let me know in the comments!
Cheers,
Peter