Amsterdam: Everything I Ever Hoped It Would Be.........Part 1
We left London at about a quarter after seven in the morning. It was early for everyone, and I had gone out the night before. I had only had about 4 or 5 good hours of sleep, so I was a bit under. Not as bad as the friends I went out with, though. They didn't get 2 hours. Poor fools.
All told, the bus ride there took about 12 hours. This includes one 45 minute stop, plus a few 15-30 minute stops. And, of course, the ferry between the UK and France. Waiting to get on the ferry ate up plenty of time, and we were on one of the great big ones that take over an hour. The little Hoverspeed I took last time flew by comparison. The entire ride, the bus was at least 90 degrees, and virtually no ventilation. It got to the point I didn't notice I was sweating anymore due to the omnipresence of damp. Then I would wipe my hand across my brow and the action would splash my neighbor. The whole night while we were actually in Amsterdam, any lull in conversation would be filled with "God DAMN that bus ride sucked!" Really, it was kind of funny. Fortunately, the ride was quite enhanced by some new friends and some old ones I hadn't seen in a while. Most notably was Brooke, whom I will speak more of later.
We got to our hostel around 7. We stayed at the Hans Brinker Budget Hotel. In the lobby, they have a poster that read:
"The Hans Brinker Budget Hotel Amsterdam is the best exercise your body can get in these times of extreme cleanliness. It's a scientific fact that everybody has to get sick once in a while to maintain their natural immune system. Luckily, the Hans Brinker will get you sick in no time!"
Really, it wasn't all that bad. The rooms were OK, although ours had (once again) virtually no ventilation, and the first night was an absolute sauna. Even the next day when it was cold enough outside to want long pants and maybe a t-shirt, the room only dropped about 10 degrees.
After a quick shower, everyone met in the lobby to take the walking tour. One of the BUNAC people, a guy named Rob, walked us to the Red Light district so we would know the way, as that was obviously what I was looking for. On that note, I think I'm going to break narrative style for a time, as I don't have a terribly linear memory of what followed.
THE RED LIGHT DISTRICT
More than just where the hookers can be found, the Red Light District is where the party is. There are clubs and bars and such in other parts of town, but the big party is under the crimson glow.
Amsterdam has more canals in it than Venice (a fact I had forgotten). On either side of the canal is the sidewalk. No cars here. There are plenty of shops, eateries, sex shows coffee shops, etc. the whole way down. And sprinkled throughout are glass doors, most at street level, some just below, with prostitutes standing in them. They were generally just wearing a bikini. I was surprised I didn't see any costumes. The window would be surrounded by a red neon, and behind could be seen a small room with a chair and a bed. The "offices" that were busy had curtains pulled across the window.
It was kind of odd, and I didn't really spend enough (coherent) time there to get used to it. Generally I felt a little guilty staring, not because I shouldn't or it's wrong, but because I wasn't paying for the privilege. By and large the girls, while technically the sexual ideal, weren't really that attractive. I got the vague impression that it would have been like schtupping blow up doll. They rarely made eye contact, didn't look happy, and certainly didn't look enthusiastic. I suppose that's not entirely true, but that was the feeling I remember. The ones who caught my eye were the ones smiling, and that wasn't often.
There were plenty of live sex shows, which a couple of people wanted to go to just to say we had. I wasn't into the idea. Porn is fine, but somehow the though of actually watching two people having sex in front of me turns my stomach, especially people who are taking no pleasure in it. We could only find two, and they cost 30 Euros and 2 Euros. No one wanted to pay 30 Euros, and I convinced them that we didn't want to see anything that only cost 2 Euros. You do get what you pay for, after all.
By the way, 50 Euros cost me 34 Pounds, which is about $70.
THE COFFEE SHOPS
First of all, yes. Of course I did. I mean, that's half the point, right?
After the initial walking tour, we went to the first coffee shop we found. "We" at this point consisted of me, Paul, Dave (whom we met on the ferry- he's not BUNAC, but he was with our tour), and Alex, whom we also met on the tour. I would end up spending the bulk of my time with Dave, and a lot with Alex and Paul. The girls, about 6 or 7 of them, had run off to find something to eat.
We sat down, and a menu was plopped in front of us. Skunk, Super Swazi, Blueberry, Misty, AK-47, the fantastic names danced across the page. At the bottom was Space Cake, Space Chocolate (spiked hot chocolate, we would learn), and the like. We ordered a salad and engaged in the best Public Intoxication I've ever had. Soon the girls returned, and we sat there for another hour or so. I had agreed to play babysitter, as I had some experience in these matters and most of the girls had none.
Keeping track of a half dozen stoned girls in Amsterdam's Red Light District is like hearing cats. Stoned cats. Stoned cats that want to do everything they see, but don't have the capacity to make a decision to actually do it. Dave, Paul, and Alex dropped out and went off somewhere else a number of times. I don't blame them one bit. Don't get me wrong, I was having so much fun I could hardly stand it. Still, like stoned cats.
The evening was ending. It was down us the four guys and Brooke. We were sitting on the steps in front of their War Memorial, which is a huge, erect, um, structure. Spire. Oblong. Not suggestive at all. Pretty cool, too. Across the street was the Royal Palace, flanked by a huge cathedral. More of the utterly epic European architecture I've been talking about. America's buildings are so bland in comparison.
Pssst! Mom! The word "structure" is a link. Click on it!
Brooke was in the other hostel (which I understand was of hellish conditions), so she caught a cab home and we walked. We get back to the hostel, exhausted from a hard day's travel and a hard night's party, at about 3. Full intentions of going straight to bed. Can't wait. We get in the lobby, and wonder where that thumping music is coming from. And where those cement stairs we didn't notice before go. Lo and behold, there is a club in the basement of our hostel. And it is hopping.
Every inch is covered by graffiti. There is a bar at one end, and the main room is about fifty feet long and maybe 25 feet wide. on one side is the seating areas, tables, etc. The opposite wall is mirrored. The bar section is wider than the lounge are, and there appears to be a hallway at the end. I go that way looking for a bathroom, and my friends wander through the club. The hallway, also mirrored, leads to the other end of the club and comes out into the main area. The four of us meet at the intersection, and were very confused for a moment. It had been a long night, remember.
We drank about half a beer, and went to bed. That was Friday.
Part 2 soon. Late now. Sleep is good. I haven't had much of that lately.
All told, the bus ride there took about 12 hours. This includes one 45 minute stop, plus a few 15-30 minute stops. And, of course, the ferry between the UK and France. Waiting to get on the ferry ate up plenty of time, and we were on one of the great big ones that take over an hour. The little Hoverspeed I took last time flew by comparison. The entire ride, the bus was at least 90 degrees, and virtually no ventilation. It got to the point I didn't notice I was sweating anymore due to the omnipresence of damp. Then I would wipe my hand across my brow and the action would splash my neighbor. The whole night while we were actually in Amsterdam, any lull in conversation would be filled with "God DAMN that bus ride sucked!" Really, it was kind of funny. Fortunately, the ride was quite enhanced by some new friends and some old ones I hadn't seen in a while. Most notably was Brooke, whom I will speak more of later.
We got to our hostel around 7. We stayed at the Hans Brinker Budget Hotel. In the lobby, they have a poster that read:
"The Hans Brinker Budget Hotel Amsterdam is the best exercise your body can get in these times of extreme cleanliness. It's a scientific fact that everybody has to get sick once in a while to maintain their natural immune system. Luckily, the Hans Brinker will get you sick in no time!"
Really, it wasn't all that bad. The rooms were OK, although ours had (once again) virtually no ventilation, and the first night was an absolute sauna. Even the next day when it was cold enough outside to want long pants and maybe a t-shirt, the room only dropped about 10 degrees.
After a quick shower, everyone met in the lobby to take the walking tour. One of the BUNAC people, a guy named Rob, walked us to the Red Light district so we would know the way, as that was obviously what I was looking for. On that note, I think I'm going to break narrative style for a time, as I don't have a terribly linear memory of what followed.
THE RED LIGHT DISTRICT
More than just where the hookers can be found, the Red Light District is where the party is. There are clubs and bars and such in other parts of town, but the big party is under the crimson glow.
Amsterdam has more canals in it than Venice (a fact I had forgotten). On either side of the canal is the sidewalk. No cars here. There are plenty of shops, eateries, sex shows coffee shops, etc. the whole way down. And sprinkled throughout are glass doors, most at street level, some just below, with prostitutes standing in them. They were generally just wearing a bikini. I was surprised I didn't see any costumes. The window would be surrounded by a red neon, and behind could be seen a small room with a chair and a bed. The "offices" that were busy had curtains pulled across the window.
It was kind of odd, and I didn't really spend enough (coherent) time there to get used to it. Generally I felt a little guilty staring, not because I shouldn't or it's wrong, but because I wasn't paying for the privilege. By and large the girls, while technically the sexual ideal, weren't really that attractive. I got the vague impression that it would have been like schtupping blow up doll. They rarely made eye contact, didn't look happy, and certainly didn't look enthusiastic. I suppose that's not entirely true, but that was the feeling I remember. The ones who caught my eye were the ones smiling, and that wasn't often.
There were plenty of live sex shows, which a couple of people wanted to go to just to say we had. I wasn't into the idea. Porn is fine, but somehow the though of actually watching two people having sex in front of me turns my stomach, especially people who are taking no pleasure in it. We could only find two, and they cost 30 Euros and 2 Euros. No one wanted to pay 30 Euros, and I convinced them that we didn't want to see anything that only cost 2 Euros. You do get what you pay for, after all.
By the way, 50 Euros cost me 34 Pounds, which is about $70.
THE COFFEE SHOPS
First of all, yes. Of course I did. I mean, that's half the point, right?
After the initial walking tour, we went to the first coffee shop we found. "We" at this point consisted of me, Paul, Dave (whom we met on the ferry- he's not BUNAC, but he was with our tour), and Alex, whom we also met on the tour. I would end up spending the bulk of my time with Dave, and a lot with Alex and Paul. The girls, about 6 or 7 of them, had run off to find something to eat.
We sat down, and a menu was plopped in front of us. Skunk, Super Swazi, Blueberry, Misty, AK-47, the fantastic names danced across the page. At the bottom was Space Cake, Space Chocolate (spiked hot chocolate, we would learn), and the like. We ordered a salad and engaged in the best Public Intoxication I've ever had. Soon the girls returned, and we sat there for another hour or so. I had agreed to play babysitter, as I had some experience in these matters and most of the girls had none.
Keeping track of a half dozen stoned girls in Amsterdam's Red Light District is like hearing cats. Stoned cats. Stoned cats that want to do everything they see, but don't have the capacity to make a decision to actually do it. Dave, Paul, and Alex dropped out and went off somewhere else a number of times. I don't blame them one bit. Don't get me wrong, I was having so much fun I could hardly stand it. Still, like stoned cats.
The evening was ending. It was down us the four guys and Brooke. We were sitting on the steps in front of their War Memorial, which is a huge, erect, um, structure. Spire. Oblong. Not suggestive at all. Pretty cool, too. Across the street was the Royal Palace, flanked by a huge cathedral. More of the utterly epic European architecture I've been talking about. America's buildings are so bland in comparison.
Pssst! Mom! The word "structure" is a link. Click on it!
Brooke was in the other hostel (which I understand was of hellish conditions), so she caught a cab home and we walked. We get back to the hostel, exhausted from a hard day's travel and a hard night's party, at about 3. Full intentions of going straight to bed. Can't wait. We get in the lobby, and wonder where that thumping music is coming from. And where those cement stairs we didn't notice before go. Lo and behold, there is a club in the basement of our hostel. And it is hopping.
Every inch is covered by graffiti. There is a bar at one end, and the main room is about fifty feet long and maybe 25 feet wide. on one side is the seating areas, tables, etc. The opposite wall is mirrored. The bar section is wider than the lounge are, and there appears to be a hallway at the end. I go that way looking for a bathroom, and my friends wander through the club. The hallway, also mirrored, leads to the other end of the club and comes out into the main area. The four of us meet at the intersection, and were very confused for a moment. It had been a long night, remember.
We drank about half a beer, and went to bed. That was Friday.
Part 2 soon. Late now. Sleep is good. I haven't had much of that lately.
posted by BAA at 12:53 PM
1 Comments:
Aawh to be young & able to recover from all that intense sensory overload!
It sounds like it was all worth it though. Take a lot of vitamin C for awhile to help keep your defences up...:)
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