Looking through my photos from Amsterdam, I thought to myself, "I remember doing a lot more there. Where are all the pictures?". After worrying that some files were lost, vivid memories of the places I went started coming back. ohhh... I guess I didn't bring a camera because I wouldn't have been able to take pictures anyway (even with my expert undercover camera skills). I guess what happens in Amsterdam, stays in Amsterdam. Which is fine, keeps me from incriminating myself, keeps this site more or less G rated, and it's really something people have to see for themselves anyway. |
"SIN CITY"
The familiar sight of trains speeding by.
The morning rain broke to reveal a beautiful sky when
I arrived in Amsterdam. First step, look for my hostel.
Actually, first step, food. I hadn't eaten since breakfast, so anything
could do. Across the street from the station was a fast food vending
machine. Drop in a couple euro and out comes a hot burger.
Cars stop, pedestrians give way, even trams slow down, but bikers own
the road... if you hear a ring-ring coming up behind you, move right
away or expect to be plowed through.
An extensive canal system runs through Amsterdam. I used them to orient myself
while walking. Only problem is that they're not labeled and I'd follow one a long
while only to realize I was looking on the wrong part of the map.
I've seen many Chinese buffets before, but never one with a 1 hour
time restriction.
After walking past the street several times because Dutch names are
impossible to pronounce and remember, I finally found the hostel.
As I wrote earlier, I booked hostel accommodations for the first
part
of my trip to get used to traveling alone. The few things I always
looked for were a central location, free breakfast, and a good price.
For
Amsterdam, I narrowed it down to two places that had vacancies
during my stay. One, a popular party hostel that was voted one of the
best in the world, but quite expensive; and two, a Christian youth hostel
located within the red light district with a 1AM curfew, but the cheapest
bed
in town. Guess which one el cheapo voted for? How bad can a
Christian youth hostel with a 1AM curfew be?
...okay... this can be bad.
After determining that the people at the hostel were boring and weird... I mean, one
of the hostel volunteers (because they work out of the goodness of their heart) was
playing guitar in the stairwell singing Christian hymns with another guy... I set out to
explore the city a bit.
At home, sex shops have black curtains over the windows, sometimes
there are back or side entrances. No, not here... Here they're bright and
inviting, and nobody cares who walks in because everybody is.
Heineken, Amstel, Häagen Daz... hmm... Americans somehow managed
to market their foreign sounding ice cream as a premium brand people all
over the world are buying into. Every time I told people that Häagen Daz
is an American company, they were shocked and slightly disappointed.
The Dutch are famous for their tulips, but to visit a flower market in the middle
of the city when it was closed wasn't quite the flower experience I was looking for.
At around 7PM, all the side streets were littered with
bags of trash for the sanitation crews to pick up. In the
morning, the city was immaculate once again.
Chinese tourists.
A picture I snuck of the red light district.
If you're not familiar with Amsterdam's red light district, my best description will hardly do justice to what it's really like... but I'll try anyway. During the daytime, the central part of Amsterdam may seem mundane; tourists, families, and locals fill the streets, enjoying the city's sites and going about their everyday business. Boat tours cruise down the canals and bikers speed down the streets to their destinations. There are restaurants and coffee shops open, but there are other buildings that appear to serve no purpose. Doors are closed and shades are pulled down. There are a few open sex shops, but those are found everywhere in the city. As the sun sets on Amsterdam, a slow transformation takes place. A few city blocks take on a strange red glow. The color becomes more pronounced as the sky darkens, as more and more streets and alleyways emanate this reddish hue. Those doors that were closed and lifeless earlier now have their shades drawn up. I'm not talking about a few doors here... I'm talkin' hundreds of doors. And behind the panes of glass are women... lots of women... women of all different races, ages, shapes, and sizes... blonde, brunette, tall, short, fat, skinny, ugly, beautiful, too old, too young... dressed in bikinis, lingerie, S&M leather (with whip in hand), nurse, schoolgirl, and police uniforms. Women of color were segregated to different parts of the district. And if there was purple light instead of a red light in the window, that woman wasn't really a woman. They stand or sit on a stool. Some of them are dancing, some just casually wiggle their booty while talking on cell phones, almost indifferent to those walking by. If you make eye contact with any of them, you suddenly become a prospective customer, and they try to lure you in. They smile, bat their eyes, pout their lips, caress themselves, and might even get off their cell phones. If you're still standing there, they open the door and ask you to come in. It's bizarre, totally bizarre. And of course you don't want to come in because it's disgusting; Behind some of the doors, you clearly see the bed, the toys, the lubricants... who knows how many men she'd been with that night and what's staining those sheets. But when you refuse, the reactions are great, some just blow a kiss and sweetly wave goodbye, others suddenly turn nasty and cuss you off because you wasted their time. It's scary and slightly intimidating. And god forbid you take a picture of them because they're known to come out and physically attack you... Shame. And remember, this goes on for block after block. It's not some seedy part of the city, it's the center of the city. People still filled the streets. Entire families, mom & dad, grandparents, the kids, toured the same streets where sleazy old men and curious horny tourists (probably italians) are window shopping for a sexual fantasy. The aroma of marijuana and the music pumping from the clubs fill the air. The sex shops are cheerful and inviting with their neon lights and open doors. Their windows are filled with hardcore pornography and dildos... it's totally hilarious to see kids walking by this stuff. Lining the streets are friendly drug dealers, but people don't buy from them because they can find "safer" drugs from reputable coffeeshops and smartshops. There are other men in the street dressed in business suits trying to entice costumers into their live sex clubs. "Beautiful women!"... "Five sex acts for €50!"... "We have monkeys!", they advertise. Okay, kidding about the monkeys, but there WAS show that involved bananas and audience participation... use your imagination. |
One of the main canals... This actually might be one of the rivers
in the canal system. Amsterdam's reputation for openly illicit activity
precedes it. People tend to forget it's also an incredibly beautiful city.
Fun
People don't visit "coffee shops" in Amsterdam for their espressos and lattes.
Though marijuana is technically illegal in Netherlands, it is tolerated in small
amounts. So likewise, smoking establishments don't technically advertise
themselves as such. You have to specifically ask for the "menu" when you
want to buy something. The menus usually have pre-rolled joints for newbies,
different types of creatively named weed, hash, tobacco for blending, and
spacecake, a delicious chocolate cake with the marijuana content of one joint.
Of course beverages are served as well, and I actually found the fresh
squeezed orange juice to be more exciting than anything else I had there.
I was out exploring the city alone when a random Asian girl came up from
behind and attacked me. Attacked in a happy puppy way (obviously drunk).
She introduced herself as Julie from Australia and she was out drinking with
folks from her hostel celebrating her 25th birthday. Her group pleaded for her
to come back and not to talk to strangers. I realized that the stranger was me,
so I introduced myself. After deciding that I wasn't dangerous, they invited me
into their group and continued the pub crawl... funny stuff happens that night.
"NEW FRIENDS"
"Hey, I'm going to Rab-o-bank"
I found a free 3 hour walking tour advertised at the hostel. Following
backpacker rule "free=good", I joined. 3 hours... eh, I have nothing
better to do. Besides, it gives me a way to meet non-strange people.
Street signs are posted on buildings. Some of them were impossible
to pronounce though, so it was hard to commit them to memory.
The
map I had in my guidebook sucked too, so I got lost in the city... a lot.
Buildings here have a cartoony feel the way their facades lean forward.
Some place that was important for trade during
Amsterdam's golden age.
For lunch, we stopped at some type of food court that served really
fresh meals and specialty items for a good price. Makes the food court
at the mall seem like shit.
The symbol of XXX is found throughout Amsterdam,
and though the obvious assumption is that it's related
to porno, it's actually the symbol of Saint Andrew. The
three X's represent the fire, flood, and pestilence, which
the city survived.
Some of the strange people you find parading Dam Square.
The tour guide was really animated and made everything sound really
exciting. Though the tour was technically free, everyone gave a
generous tip.
That's the Anne Frank House behind her. I know... I expected something
more interesting too.
Me wanting to steal a bike.
That's Camilla from Argentina, say hi Camilla. We hung out and did some
shopping after the tour ended and everyone went their own ways
I wish I didn't have my no souvenir rule sometimes.
Imagine if that really existed. Look at the bottom left hand corner of the photo.
I wish I took a picture of the backs of these, it read just like my
shoppes at lastpatriot.com shopping site. Full of nonsense.
Camilla and me in Dam Square, the historical center of Amsterdam. And yes, that is
The Mask in the background.
Cannabis flavored lollipops, and other treats for the kids. Anyway, after walking
all around the city for a few hours, we said goodbye and returned to our hostels.
That's Alberto and Federico from Italy, first normal people I met at
my hostel. Hungry, we set out to find a satisfying and inexpensive
meal in the city. We settled for one of the numerous Argentinean
steak restaurants in the center of town. It ended up being neither
inexpensive nor satisfying. The most painful thing was the price of
beverages, €3.50 for a medium size glass. The tap-water in the city
is non-potable, so that wasn't even an option. I just remember being
really thirsty my whole time in Amsterdam because drinks were just
ridiculously expensive.
Me demonstrating to Alberto and Freddy how to take a better picture
by turning off the flash.
Another picture I snuck of the window shopping in the red light district.
Reminds me of Barbie dolls in their packaging.
Live sex show at the Sex Palace. It was painfully passionless and
mechanical. Spending the money on a toaster would've been more
exciting. I was warned, but I just HAD to find out for myself.
A nice coffeeshop with a relaxed atmosphere
recommended in Freddy's guides.
Again... totally no effect, same for Federico. We just
laughed at the disappointment. Poor newbs. There was
an interesting older couple who sat at a nearby table.
They looked like they just came out of an office in their
business dress. Totally not the people I expected
to see masterfully rolling and smoking joints.
What a waste of 5 Euro... I could've bought a bottled water.
... the tea was superb though.
The familiar red glow.
I know, totally inappropriate.
hahaha... All this "criminal" activity going on in the Amsterdam, and cops
don't do anything about it. What an awesome city.
It's oregano officer, really.
A painting of a really fat ugly girl is bad enough, but uh... that's
not a girl. Oh yeah... this is at the Rijksmuseum.
I thought this painting looked familiar, but I couldn't quite figure out
where I'd seen it before until I returned home.
I sold these all the time at the
gas station I used to work at.
Rembrandt's "The Night Watch" is the most famous piece in the museum.
I wonder if this is a permanent sculpture, because it's cool.
The crew. Oh yeah, the tall guy is Kirk. He was from our hostel too.
Heineken is made in Netherlands. Heineken is good.
So naturally, we went to the Heineken museum.
99 bottle of beer on the wall...
"Batten down the hatches men! It's about to blow!"
We peaked into one of the rooms and saw a bunch of people
laying in a sci-fi looking seats and pressing some buttons
on
the sides. It looked interactive and potentially fun, so we waited
in a long queue in a hot hallway for half an hour. And for
what?
Commercials... a video presentation of commercials. The buttons
just skipped to different commercials... grrrr...
I want this sign for my basement.
The €10 admission included THREE beers served in 2 different bars. Considering
that beers go for €4 in the city, drinking here was really a bargain. There's
something strange the way this picture was taken, can you figure it out?
This year was Rembrandt's 400th birthday or something, and the city was in the
middle of a yearlong celebration.
My souvenir of Hard Rock Cafe Amsterdam.
Vicious pigeons.
Federico had a leftover joint from the day before... what better time to
light up than
in the middle of a public park on a beautiful day?
Still... no effect.
We hopped on a tram back to the center of the city, and coincidently
ran into Paul, who I met a couple nights earlier.
We had pizza at an Italian restaurant. Lousy service, mediocre food,
exorbitant prices... that's dining in Amsterdam for you.
Paul was an experienced smoker, and Federico and I decided
to take advantage of his expertise... "Hey man, this is really
good stuff, you definitely should feel something after one hit."
Still... nothing. Oh well... That's enough money wasted for me.
I can't say I didn't try to have fun.
Pool was fun though.
"GOING DUTCH"
If this isn't blatantly phallic, I don't know what is.
Look at all the different types of lanes on the road.
Plan for the day...
take a train out of the city to visit windmills and
other Dutch stuff in Zaandijk.
When we arrived in the town, we were greeted by this
unattractive, non-operating windmill. Oh no, was this it?
We kept walking to find out what else we could find.
I know it looks silly, but it's safer carrying the day bag in front.
Sometimes the back gets all sweaty and you need to let it dry off.
Oh yeah, there's a mosquito bite on my head. That night at the
hostel, I got three vicious bites that didn't clear for a month.
As we walked further, we found the small Dutch village obviously catered
toward tourists. Which was fine, because it was quaint and scenic, and
a nice break from the city.
Everywhere I went, I took pictures of child crossing signs. They
amuse me. Like this guy has a hat.
A picturesque Dutch house.
Quaint.
Yeah, that's right, wanna mess with us?
A small cheese factory. mmm... cheese...
I look like a miniature human in this picture.
This place had a delicious free cheese samples. In this case, free = gouda.
I made it a point to try each and every one.. twice. At the end of the shop,
they sold small sandwiches and snacks. I bought a ham sandwich and went
back to the sample plates and piled layers of cheese inside. Hey, Amsterdam
was breaking my budget, I had to take drastic measures to feed myself.
Who knew chickens jumped for their food.
Feeeed meeee...
I think the owner of this farm starves his animals so that they're
especially affectionate toward people. But who cares, they're cute.
Who knew clogs could look like this?
A clog making demonstration.
I should paint this; at least the clouds.
"GOODBYE AMSTERDAM (or is it?)"
The posts that lined the sidewalk had a really suggestive
shape and color. How in the world can this not be intentional?
Even the food advertisements are phallic.
Need I say more?
A street performer played incredible guitar using a looper pedal. That was the
first time I saw a lot of people come up and give a street performer money.
Famished, we went to the all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet
I came across a few days earlier. For €7.50, it ended up
being a bargain compared to the other places I had been.
Last picture with the group at the hostel. Kirk, Federico, and Alberto had a few more
days in Amsterdam, but I was leaving that night. I was going to take a night train to
Switzerland. I had reserved my seat earlier that day for a 20.00 hr departure, and had
plenty of time to say goodbye.
Amsterdam in the evening.
With my heavy (yet comfortable) bag on my shoulders,
I headed toward the Centraal Station.
Charles is an idiot story #2 So there I was at the station around 9:30 PM. I was eager with anticipation taking my first night train in Europe. I reserved a reclining seat instead of the more comfortable bed-like couchette to save money. I also figured that if I could tolerate the discomfort, I'll continue booking the reclining seats for the rest of my trip. I double checked my ticket... 20.00hr train to Zurich. I went to the platform and there was a train waiting, but the sign was in Dutch so I couldn't figure out what it said. There was no one else waiting, but I was early so it didn't concern me. I waited. As time ticked by, I was getting concerned because no one else was coming to the platform. Hmm... if the train leaves at ten, shouldn't there be more people here? Ten... hmm... wait a minute... the ticket says 20.00hr... FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK! shit. Ok... I'm not a stupid person, I'm quite familiar with the 24 hour clock, and I couldn't have killed too many brain cells in Amsterdam, but I managed to fuck this one up. I KNOW 20.00hr is 8PM, but somehow when I reserved the ticket in the morning, I didn't think much of it, and I put it in my head that I was going on a 10PM train in the evening. Never second guessed it. But now it was 10PM and I missed my night train to Zurich. I let the panic subside and considered my options. The only thing I could do was wait for the 8AM morning train to Switzerland. Okay, that's fine, what's traveling without a few surprises? But now I was stuck in Amsterdam for the night with a big bag, and the temperature was dropping fast. I could book a hostel, but that seemed like a huge waste of money just to have a place to sleep for a few hours. I decided to rough it, wander the city at night, hopefully stay awake until daybreak and then return to the station in the morning. Boy, it got cold fast. I went to a Mcdonalds to warm up and have some egg rolls (yeah, they have crazy items in different countries). But this was Amsterdam... there's a ton of stuff to do. Why not take advantage of being there another night and live it up? So I changed into some better clothes, locked my bag in a luggage storage area, and set out for some evening fun. I went to some clubs and uhh... hehe... stuff happened. Let's just say I was somewhere I shouldn't have been and had to get out of a sticky situation. Anyway, fast forward to 4:30 AM. Now I'm really sleepy and staggering through the bitterly cold streets. It's still August, but I can see my breath in the chilly air. Though it's really late into the evening, there are still dealers pushing their drugs and prostitutes selling their services, but the crowd had obviously died down. What made the moment surreal was how safe the streets felt. Maybe it was my way of trying to stay awake, but I made conversation with anyone who spoke to me. I remember one big black woman was exiting her door and yelling at a man down the street. I watched them exchange words for a bit when surprisingly, she called out to me, "HEY, Bruce Lee! Come here! This man is bothering me." Against my usual common sense, I cried out, "I'll help you!" and approached her while throwing comedic punches in his direction. "Yeah, I have Bruce Lee over here, an' he's gonna KICK-YO'-ASS". I laughed, she laughed, the guy laughed. I knew there was no real danger there, but it was still funny to be thanked by a prostitute. The drug dealers were funny too. One guy tried to sell me something, but I made it clear that I wasn't interested. He didn't pursue it any further, but we kept awkwardly walking in the same direction, like when you say goodbye to a friend at a supermarket, but you are both standing in the same checkout-line. Realizing that we weren't parting ways anytime soon, we started up a conversation, and I ended up telling him all about my stay in Amsterdam and my plans to backpack through Europe. I continued my trek toward the station hoping it was in operation. It wasn't. There were security guards patrolling the inside and kicking out loiterers. Damn, I was hoping I could camp out the way I did at the airport earlier. Without many options, I joined a group of people camping outside the station. Strength in numbers... all I have to do is stay awake until the station opens... stay awake... stay... a... ... zzz ... !!! "OH MY GOD! MY BAG! WHERE'S MY BAG?", I yelled out in Vietnamese. I never speak in Vietnamese, let alone yell in Vietnamese, but I was frantic... terrified. My backpack! My lifebood... I remembered having it, where'd it go? How'd I let myself fall asleep? Where the hell am I? That moment was probably one of the most scrambled moments my brain ever had. For five whole anxious minutes, I came to grips with the idea that my bag was stolen, considering the options. Then suddenly... I remembered where I was... and where my bag was. A rush of relief flooded my body. "You left the bag in the storage locker, dipshit", I thought to myself. I went to retrieve my bag, and probably gave it a hug. Looking down at my watch, it was still only 6:00AM. You'd think a major transportation hub would be busy by then, but it was still closed. It was freezing outside though, so I made the choice to go in and warm up. Guards were still kicking out people who were sleeping, but I really needed to close my eyes and warm up somewhere... and I chose the perfect hideout spot, the photo booth. But the story doesn't end there my friend. In Europe, many public restrooms are pay toilettes. It's shocking for an American to imagine that, but I learned to accepted it. I had to go... really bad. So I coughed up the 70¢ and proceeded to do my deed. When I went to the sink to wash my hands, I noticed a sign that read, "FOR HAND WASHING ONLY". Okay. I guess I won't be able to brush my teeth, but since I just pulled an all-nighter and was feeling pretty foul, I splashed some water on my face. The moment... I mean... THE moment the water hit my face, I felt someone tap my shoulder. It was a large unattractive Dutch woman who I'll always remember as the toilet troll. She (or it) pointed to the sign, grunted, and walked away.
Backpacker Rule #9: Check the time on the ticket. Check it twice dammit! Backpacker Rule #10: Don't check the time on the ticket. Let yourself miss a train. Some of the most memorable things can't be planned. |
Finally, 8AM rolls around. Finally, Switzerland. Finally, *yaaaaaawn*... sleep...