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Amsterdam
December 2003 - January 2004
| Day 1 Arrival |
Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 New Year's Eve |
Day 5 New Year's Day |
Day 6 | Day 7 & Departure |
Day 6
My sore throat had worked itself into a chest cold, so I slept
in while SW ran off with some of the crew to see the Rijks Museum. They found
the place mostly blocked off for renovations and the experience a little bit of a
disappointment.
Eventually I rose and wandered the streets alone, getting an entirely different
reaction from the prostitutes in the red-lit windows than I had when walking
with SW. I remembered there being far more, and far greater variety, on my last
trip through town. But when I took a narrow alley shortcut, trying to get out of
the chilly wind howling down the wider streets, I found the heart of the Red Light District. Window after
window of women offering their services, vying for my attention by tapping the
glass, winking, opening the door and motioning me closer. I spotted quite a few
I’d be willing to pay for, were I in the market.
I remembered there being more coffeeshops too, but then I read that they’d
recently started requiring licenses, so the numbers have dropped but the quality
and consistency has improved.
The snow was gone, replaced by a bright, shiny day colder than any day before.
Goddamn freezing.
Good day to sit in a café sipping hot chocolate and watching the gulls fight the
ducks in the canal for a scrap of bread. Street sweepers are sucking up the
remnants of the holiday debris. The window girls are taking their places, though
now it’s off-season and early in the day so many windows remained curtained. The
Prostitute Information Center has closed for the season. A few straggling
travelers are hauling their suitcases toward the central train station. The
locals are retaking the town.
But we’re still here, spending a few extra days to soak up some extra culture
and other intoxicants. We wandered the streets in search of an Indonesian place
that serves a “rice table”, sort of a mini buffet set up on your table.
| We stumbled into a Chinese parade of some sort, the kind with a dragon and fireworks. The dragon stopped at each Asian restaurant and demanded offerings. |
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| The restaurant would put a platter of food or beer out for him and the lead guy in the dragon costume would hunch over it and pass the stuff back to his fellows in the tail and they’d consume it while the drummers banged away. Then the dragon would dance about a bit, then reach up above the door and pull down a head of cabbage. He’d eat that, then dance about a bit then spit the stuff back out on the doorstep and the fireworks would explode and fill the street with smoke and more debris. I was under the impression that it was a blessing of some sort, but the entire thing was alien to me. We ate at Aneka Rasa, one of the restaurants blessed by dragon puke, and had a fine meal. |
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| We returned to The Last Watering Hole to catch The Red Hot Chili Bastards, a Dutch Red Hot Chili Pepper tribute band. Their posters won us over, a spoof of the RHCP photo where the guys wear nothing but tube socks, and not on their feet. Instead, the Bastards wear wooden shoes, and not on their feet. |
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| The band cranked up, doing the heavier, faster stuff from the Peppers collection, some old, some brand new tunes. The Bastards do a fair job with the material, perhaps covering it a bit too true to the original. It’s funny to hear the Dutch banter in between tunes. One of their groupies handed out sparklers to the crowd for a minimalist pyrotechnic effect. |
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| Day 1 Arrival |
Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 New Year's Eve |
Day 5 New Year's Day |
Day 6 | Day 7 & Departure |
 |
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