Modern Gonzo on the Eurail
« Return to Amsterdam and Berlin
Here in the Red Light District, everyone is up to something naughty, something vice. “Coffee shops” have menus of marijuana and hash the way others might have menus of imported tea, and it really does make nonsense on the entire drug debate when the only major world city that has legalized marijuana is also safe, clean and entirely efficient. “The first time I did it with brownies,” says Marcela, to which Meredith replies, “You mean you did it with an 8 year old?”
“No, it’s just that, I don’t know if I’m getting high or just feeling weird,” wonders Marcela. To which I chime in, “Either way, it’s the same result.”
A ready made joint is about the price of a beer, and when you take the illegal drug culture out of marijuana, you realize it’s just another form of human indulgence, like wine, cigars, or Paris Hilton. Speaking of shameless whores, in the name of thorough journalism I can tell you that it costs €50 for 20 minutes with a lady of the night, not that I pay for such things, but judging by the amount of beautiful women selling their bodies behind glass windows with red curtains, plenty men do.
“Unlike other cities, we have kept our historical Red Light District, are proud of it, and it is one of the most beautiful places in the city,” says Balti, our rock n’roll bike guide. Prostitution is regulated and controlled, the women work for themselves as opposed to pimps, and the world’s oldest profession looks almost, well, professional. It’s enough to make the head of any religious conservative explode, like an over inflated condom.
At The Hague, a cold, unrelenting rain popped the bubble of Parkpop, Europe’s largest free outdoor music festival. In a cold cell nearby, Charles Taylor, the former president of Liberia, sits in a jail at the World Court on charge for every despicable sin you can think of. Including, probably, an awful piece of public art that consists of a large black ramp with pink and blue lines painted on it, sitting next to the giant head of a monkey, on a leafy Hague promenade. Back in the Amsterdam, we celebrate Marcela’s birthday by forcing her into a tiny booth where, for the price of a chocolate bar, she can watch two people having live sex with all the enthusiasm of someone who has to extract their own eyeball, using only chopsticks and leg wax. We visit a terrific world music and roots festival, where I learn that Hungarian folk music is far hipper than you’d think it is, and zone out to a big band from Cameroon. The Bulldog shuts down at midnight on Sunday (”But I thought this city never sleeps!”) and a quiet walk along the wet canals home is a stroll into an old world dream. St Petersburg might have been modeled on Amsterdam, and Copenhagen might remind one of Amsterdam, but rest assured, there is only one Amsterdam.
June 27, 2007
Word Travels Offices
Vancouver, BC
A very special thanks to Bianca, Nicole, Henrik, Eurail, and my traveling cohorts: Glen, Lorraine, Meredith, Jennifer and Marcela. Check out www.trippist.com for cool info on backpacking in Amsterdam, or click my Eat Sleep Play for my reviews on activities, bars, clubs and restaurants.
