Wednesday, 16 April 2008

Amsterdam - A lot of Cheese

The Dam

Last weekend I went to Amsterdam. It was ammmmmazing.

Amsterdam isn’t one of those cities jam packed with so many monuments and tourists sights, but one in which walking around + a visit to Anne Frank’s is considered suffice.

Late Friday afternoon we arrived dumped our shit at the Stay Okay Hostel and went straight back to the city centre to a little bar called ‘Beer and Babes’.

Before I continue I believe a recap of the situation is in order. That previous week it had been my good friend Bale’s b’day. This was his ‘celebratory trip’, and I decided to hop on board, no pun intended.

After I had purchased my ticket, little pieces of the impending weekend were slowly revealed. One of the most important pieces being that Bale was going over with a whole football team of boys who were playing against the Dutch on Saturday. I decided to take this information by my stride and let go of any inhibitions. After all, it was Amsterdam.

Although a couple of the players did make an appearance at Beer and Babes the group slowly dispersed leaving me with Bale and two other guys, one of which lived in Amsterdam, thus making our night out, one of great ease.

After leaving the bar we came to our next destination; Banana Bar. If you have a dirty mind then yes whatever images are playing in your mind right at this very moment are probably spot on. For an entry fee of 45 euros we were each rewarded with an hour’s worth of drinking and a bar full of ‘bar women’, and I use this term very loosely, whose ability to engage the crowd of men was most likely due to their lack of clothing and ability to contort themselves in one too many comprising positions, rather than their bartending skills.

In normal everyday circumstances I would not be caught dead in a nudie bar accompanied by an entourage of men, however, Amsterdam is not a normal everyday circumstance.

At one time, I was sitting next to a guy whose busy hands were feeling their way round the contours and … crevices of the eastern European ‘dancer’ perched in front of him. Other instruments including; dildos, bananas and pens were introduced to an area, half of them shouldn’t be. But if legibly writing a ‘Happy B’day Cale’ note with the muscles of your Nether regions isn’t a talent ... then I don’t know what is.

Good thing about this episode of the night was that no camera photography was permitted inside. Therefore no photographic evidence will ever surface that could land me in some very serious waters. On the other hand, on the brisk walk to our final destination, copious amounts of alcohol led to what can only be described as a loose tongue in front of a lingering camera. Sort of like a taxi cab confession, sans the taxi and in which I am fully aware of the camera’s presence.

After our 'end of drinks' announcement we downed what we had left at the bottom of our glasses and swiftly left the premises, making our way to the club Escape.

It’s a surreal game that these girls play. But then I guess this is hardly a game to them, just life. I commended one of the girls on her seeming confidence in herself and her body. I mean anyone who is willing to stick a face full of their arse in your face has got to be pretty comfortable with their body. Her response was that she was in fact not at all comfortable with her naked exterior and that it was just what she had to do. To what? Pay the rent, feed her children, feed her addiction? Could be anyone of those things.

After spending an hour in that place, the girls seem more like machines than females. To analyze this situation too much, would be to rape it of its purpose and what it means to the vibe of Amsterdam. So I won’t. But from a sociological perspective it’s very interesting to see the way in which the girls behave and the reactions they provoke. After placing a dildo on a guy’s head, the girl announced ‘dickhead’ in her thick eastern European accent. And that is just a G-Rated example of one of the many things she seemed so habitual about that she may as well have done them with her eyes closed.

Walking through the red light district is another interesting experience. Each window will reveal a tiny room in which the girl inside is standing in her underwear looking to the outside world, for her next customer. None of the girls really try, there is no pouting or dancing in order to lure a contender, half of them have more tires than the Honda Civic I left back in Australia. They blankly stare out the window, impartial to the stares back from both males and females.

At the night’s end Cale and I jumped in a taxi hostel bound, while the two other guys decided to go window shopping. Long story short, one guy chose a girl who he thought could tickle his fancy, pun intended, while the other went next door. Apparently between standing outside for ‘15 mins’ (his words not mine) or getting intimate with the girl in the window, the later sounded more appealing, if only to stay warm. Yea right.

Saturday we walked all around the centre and I went to visit Anne Frank’s house. How those people were not discovered in that massive house hidden away by a book case escapes me. I almost got hit by a bike on more than one occasion, (more people ride bikes than drive cars) and was handed a Scientology leaflet by a mute man bearing a white mask, that had a cigarette hanging out of the mouth hole. This place is the Mecca for sneakers and hi-tops. They’re not only found on the shelves but on the feet of some very sexy Dutchmen .. and women. Oh and there is a hell of a lot of cheese in that city.

Another thing I was eager to try was mushrooms, so I bought a box of the Colombian mushrooms from a souvenir shop and made my way back to the hostel. I found myself divulging more than was intended and directing my responses one too many inches away from where Cale was sitting. Then the floor became a sea of colour .. and I was stranded in my boat.

I really enjoyed doing Amsterdam with boys. I don’t think I would have experienced the same Amsterdam, had I of gone with girls. I definitely feel I saw the Dam, up close and personal. Oh and of course weed is very accessible and very dry.

No comments:

Post a Comment

What are you looking at?

My photo
I am more than prone to monologues; however, this is solely due to the manner in which they compliment a witty anecdote and their ability to resemble concrete evidence when it is so obviously lacking. I often wish I could emulate that aloof character who coolly stands in the corner smiling mysteriously as if she has a secret. However, I fear resisting the temptation to involve myself in other people’s conflicts and responding through body language rather than verbose banter may come across as contrived and arrogant. And, I am not willing to take that chance.

Ye Faithful