Friday, June 18, 2004

HOLLAND TRIP PART 2: Red Lights, Green Lights and Lightning Bolts

Tiredness has caught up with me- I’m falling asleep at the keyboard, but I’m determined to get this done. The sooner I do this, the sooner I can get all my other writing projects finished. And Wondershot, this one might make you think twice about Holland's hospitality ^_^; Day Three, Part 2: Aimless Ambling in Amsterdam The metro journey to Amsterdam Central Station was thankfully very short and sweet. Amsterdam, on the other hand, is almost anything but short or sweet. I don’t think it’s the size of London, but it’s at least as easy to get lost in. The buildings are incredibly tall and a lot are incredibly pretty. Central Station itself and a lot of the buildings around it are fantastically Gothic-looking. The only thing that offsets this is that huge amount of people lurking about the station and the number of trams, cars and bicycles going to and fro everywhere. I’d been warned prior to arriving that pickpockets were rife in Amsterdam, especially around the station and Red Light districts. And sure enough, while we were queuing to get onto the coach, Steve noticed a girl weaving her way very closely between us. He gave her a loud ‘Oi!’, and she scarpered smartish. Thank god we had Tamar with us. She’s actually Dutch, which helped a lot with negotiating travel, fares and directions. She found out which tram it was that took us nearest to the hostel, and also found out how much each of us would have to pay. Without her, I doubt we’d have gotten as far. Well, we might, but we’d have had to walk it. On the way down to the hostel, the tram passed a great-looking comics shop- Vandal Comix. I vowed to return. The hostel itself was definitely not what I expected it to be. I wasn’t entirely sure exactly what I was expecting, but this wasn’t really it. I guess I’d always imagined something with carpets, a reddish interior, metal bunks, nice, ornamental-looking wooden doors and various communal areas to sit and relax. What we got was a rather old-looking building with blue-brick or yellow painted walls, tiled floors, cold rooms, dorms that fitted 14-18 people, with groups of two or three bunks separated by a flimsy wooden sheet, leaky and smelly bathrooms, two sofas outside the bedrooms that you couldn’t sit and talk on anyway because there were usually some people sleeping or smoking on them… okay, it wasn’t all that bad, but I’m sure there were nicer places we could have stayed… or at least somewhere a little further into the city centre might have been nice. As it was, it tended to take us at least 20 minutes to get anywhere, and that was if you didn’t get lost and walked at constant speed. The place was called The Shelter, and it’s a Christian Youth Hostel where people can stay without fear of people coming in with drugs or alcohol. Unfortunately, it’s also a place where people don’t have to fear mixed dorms. The boys’ and girls’ rooms are on two completely different floors, and members of the opposite sex aren’t even allowed into the little waiting area between the bedrooms and bathrooms of either set. And, there’d been a mix-up with the numbers, so two of the guys were in a different dorm to the other five. At least it wasn’t one on his own, but it was still rather an inconvenience. Things were looking a bit grim for the Amsterdam Hostel party… Meanwhile, our tutor was in a really posh hotel right next to the central station- The Victoria Hotel. Needless to say, we were somewhat jealous. Especially when we heard that his bed could fit about six people inside it… After setting our stuff inside our various bedrooms and trying to convince the people on the front desk to move the remainder of the guys into some beds in the dorm with five guys in, we had a look around. There was no-one else sleeping in any other rooms at that time, so we didn’t have to worry about waking anyone else. It was a pity we couldn’t all have been in the same room. Not that I’d intend to do the dirty with anyone on the course, but simply because it’d be like a big IA group sleep-over. I love them; I’ve not had a decent one in ages, heh. One thing I was most looking forward to about Holland was getting to know everyone better- even though I know everyone likes me, I can’t help but feel a little isolated from time to time. I guess had I been more confident at the beginning of the course, more people might have taken notice of me. I’m really only now starting to feel really comfortable with my standing, but even now it’s not really set yet. But I digress. We decided that that night we should meet up with John and all go out for a meal. So we walked up to the Victoria and then walked back into the centre of town to try and find somewhere that everyone wanted to eat at. After an extensive search (and two detours through unopened red-light districts), we ended up at The Grasshopper, which was three floors tall- one was a coffee shop (if I need to explain it to you, don’t ask), one a bar and the other a steakhouse. And the steaks were very steaky indead ^____^ I don’t think I’ve had a nicer kebab-thing, although the onions really burnt my throat for some reason. When we’d finished, we went to another bar for a drink and then set off on a night I won’t soon forget… The Long Night Since the red-light districts are such a tourist attraction in Amsterdam, we thought it’d be worth a look. Some of us wanted to try and see a live sex show too, although our searches for a decent, cheap one ended up fruitless. Jez was absolutely pissed. So, in my infinite wisdom, I thought I should try and support him through the streets. Him wandering off on his own in dangerous parts of town might not be too good an idea, after all. The thing is, Jez is incredibly intelligent anyway, so even when he’s drunk everything he says makes sense. It’s just far more relaxed and he doesn’t walk so well. He greeted us outside the bar we just exited, holding a tumbler of wine. “Jez, do you think you should give the glass back to the bar?” “Nah, they won’t mind.” That glass never saw the pub again. Our first excursion into the red-light district was incredibly intimidating, moreso than the already-crowded streets of normal Amsterdam. Every few metres there’d be some guy in dirty clothes shaking or gibbering, and if you passed too closely they’d try and sell you drugs. The smaller alleyways are so crowded; at times you feel you’d rather jump into a canal than try and walk past all these people gawping at the prostitutes in the window or ogling the items in the sex shops. The first person in a neon-red lit window we saw was actually a bloke… but if you didn’t know what to look far, you probably wouldn’t have been able to tell. It’s so different to what I’m used to seeing. Actually seeing these people offering their bodies for money seems almost inhuman. Some were actually on the phone while sitting and waiting for people to go past. I’d never do anything like that. Even if I was desperate I could never bring myself to have cold, empty sex with someone who only wants your money. I can’t help but feel sorry for them. What would make them want to do that? I know it’s not always choice, but you’d think there’d have to be something else they could do. We saw three guys come out of one door at once, all shouting triumphantly to each other and throwing their fists into the air. I felt sickened. All the while, I was still holding Jez, who was slightly less drunk than he was before. It was hard trying to keep up with the rest of the group, though. And what I didn’t know until two days later was what almost happened whilst we were a few metres behind them in an alleyway… Three large black men in leather coats moved towards us. I didn’t see- I was too busy concentrating on Jez. One of the guys up ahead turned round to find out where we were, and saw one take out a switchblade. Quickly, he gathered everyone else up and brought them back to us, whereby the three guys disappeared back into the darkness. I can’t believe I didn’t see, or at least didn’t keep as close to them. But they prey on people who have an encumbrance (i.e. me trying to hold Jez). At least there would have been two of us. Had it been one or the other on their own Lord knows what might have happened. Especially as some members of the group have a tendency not to wait for those following behind them… I’m so grateful to Robbie, though. If he hadn’t seen I’d probably be dead now. Or at least severely wounded. Needless to say, that’s something I haven’t told my parents about. After that happened (unbeknownst to me), some of us wanted to go into an Erotic Museum. But, the other part of some of us decided that we’d rather go back to the hostel and sleep. It had been a long day after all, and the red-light districts aren’t exactly relaxing places to stay. So, five of us returned to our bedsit. It must have been about half past twelve when we got back. We sat in the outside area for a while and talked, then another section of our group returned and asked whether Holly, Tamar and Lucinda had come back. We said we didn’t know- we presumed they went clubbing. The curfew for the hostel was due at 2:00am, after that time they’d have to sleep outside until the doors opened at 8. Needless to say, this concerned us a little. Every time the doorbell went, we went to check who it was. It was never them. We tried using the payphone at reception to try and get hold of them, but all of their mobiles responded with a garbled Dutch message, which we can only presume meant ‘This number is unavailable’. 2:00am came and went. We stayed up for a further half an hour to see if we could persuade the guys at reception to let them in if they turned up late, but no-one came. Giving up, we decided to go to bed and hope that they’d found a place to stay. Back in the dorm, someone was snoring like a steam train. And I mean like a bloody steam train. It was actually the loudest noise I’d ever heard whilst trying to get to sleep. I was surprised no-one else noticed, but then it was emanating from the guy sleeping in the bunk above me, so I received pretty much all of the noise that everyone else didn’t. The blanket we were given was very thin. I didn’t have my pyjamas with me that night, so I had to sleep in my boxers, which always makes me feel a little uncomfortable. Added to that was the stress of not having a clue where Holly, Lucinda and Tamar were; it didn’t make for a good recipe for sleep. But what came next topped it all off. It started to rain. But not just in any form. This was a full-blown thunderstorm right over the centre of Amsterdam. And our building was on the top storey, so every single raindrop, every lightning strike was heard in pitch-perfect surround sound. I eventually fell asleep when the noises subsided at about five-thirty in the morning. Day 4: Museums, Museums, Mus…what the hell is that guy doing to the cow? At 7:30, I woke up. Two hours of sleep. Tim and I left our dorm to be greeted by Lucinda, whereupon it emerged that she, Holly and Tamar had actually arrived back before us, but had gone straight to bed. So we waited up for no reason whatsoever. I’m not assuming anything ever again. The events of last night notwithstanding, we wanted to leave early to get to the Anne Frank museum before the queue became too large. And even at 9:20 it was pretty huge, trailing around the corner of the building. Jason was very annoyed that we hadn’t got there for 9 on the dot, but as it was the queue moved pretty quickly. Inside was fairly stark. I’ve never actually read Anne Frank’s diary, but now I’m really interested in doing so. It was an incredible experience, actually going into the infamous house with the secret annex at the back and hearing about everything they had to endure whilst in hiding. I felt pretty harrowed, and I hardly knew anything about it beforehand. There was no furniture in any of the rooms, which was a bit of a disappointment- it might have felt a more rewarding experience to have seen more aspects of their original life. I guess they removed them to get more visitors through and to prevent damage to the items themselves. The road systems in Amsterdam seem very confusing, probably because they drive on the opposite side of the road to the UK. So if you look left first and see nothing there, you turn around and suddenly see this car right up your arse. And the cyclists think they own the road because they have priority over cars. So they sail down their specially-made cycle paths, not caring about any pedestrians that might happen to walk onto them. And they don’t even bother about traffic lights, some of them. It’s ridiculous. It could be perfectly safe to cross in terms of the little green man light in front of you, but then this idiot-nutter-psychopath cyclist rushes past, swearing bloody murder at you in Dutch because you were in his way. I must say, that’s one thing I don’t miss. After the Anne Frank Museum, three of us went shopping. I went into the Vandal Comix shop and was very satisfied, even though I didn’t get anything. So long as I’m able to have a look, I’m never disappointed in shops like that. Would have been nice if they’d had some Cyber Spawn goodies, though >.> After that, we met up with everyone else and had lunch, before going into the Sex Museum. The Sex Museum in Amsterdam is a very odd place, and certainly not for those with strong views about sex, pornography and… bestiality. I’ve never seen so many rude statues in all my life. But the odd thing is, these have been around since the early Stone Age. People who thought pornography is a modern invention are sadly mistaken. It’s been around for centuries, but only in the last few decades has it really been exploited and made more obvious. Even in mainstream programmes, there are far more references to sex than there would have been ten or twenty years ago. There are thousands of pictures, paintings and light-up/moving displays in the sex museum, including one or two hands-on activities… most of which are what you might expect until you get to the De Sade room… BDSM, bestiality, sadomasochism, whips, bindings, chains, things about the diameter of a wine bottle going into places they shouldn’t… it was pretty disgusting stuff. Thankfully that was the end of the tour, so we could leave and do something completely different to get our minds off it ^_^; Jez and I went back to the dorm for a rest. I started listening to my .hack//SIGN tapes and started to drift off to sleep when Jason came in, telling me that he’d just seem a car drive into the canal. I still don’t know whether the driver or her two dogs were safe. That evening we went for another restaurant meal (which is where most of everyone’s money went) and went down to the Damraq square to meet some of Tamar’s friends. They were very friendly, and agreed to take us to a karaoke bar. Unfortunately, the original bar we were due to go to was in the middle of a particularly nasty red-light district, and a really strange old lady told us that we’d get murdered if we weren’t careful. A big split then occurred as to where we should go. We bundled into the nearest pub and decided from there what was due to happen. I, along with several others, decided that we wanted to head back to the hostel, so we did. The rest followed much later on. Day 5: More of the Same We woke up much later on the Sunday morning than we’d intended, but it was probably no bad thing. We all needed some sleep, and that extra two hours helped… a little. I can’t actually remember too much about what we did on the Sunday- it was agreed that everyone wanted to go on a pedalo ride at some point, but you weren’t able to take any before 3:00 in the afternoon, which gave us quite a lot of time to try and find other things to do. A group of us (about six, I think) went to the Medieval Torture Museum. We were due to see it the day before, but there were only three of us and we got lost trying to find it. It cost 5 Euros and was actually much smaller than we thought. But I thought it was really interesting, if a little gross. Not in the same way that the Sex Museum was, but it’s almost on the same level. All these sketches of disgusting torture devices… Camp X-Ray’s got nothing on these. The body saw that cuts lengthways down the body whilst the prisoner is suspended upside down by ropes, the wooden spike that people are sat on and than attached weights to… After a lovely ham and cheese toasted sandwich (which bowl of ketchup to dip it in ^____^), Jason and I took a trip across Amsterdam to see the Dutch Resistance Museum, and that was incredible. Not only was the subject interesting, but the displays were fantastically well-made. We considered going to the Amsterdam zoo after that, but we didn’t have enough time or money. I was a little disappointed, but I really wanted to pedalo around the canals. The pedalo ride wasn’t very exciting, but gave us good exercise. And with the amount of pizza that I’d eaten the previous night, I was sure glad of that. There were several near-misses with these massive canal boats that give people tours of the intricate waterways of the city. They’re large, and a tiny fibreglass pedalo with a deposit worth £30 really won’t stand up to it. Speedboats are a slight problem too, as they instinctively expect you to get out of the way. They’re much less arrogant than the cyclists, though. I have many pictures of the pedalo tour we did. That night was the night of the first England match of Euro 2004, which hundreds of pubs were screening all over the city. While most of us went out for a meal at an Italian restaurant, others went to watch the match. As another testament to the confusion Amsterdam causes to people who don’t know it very well, we got lost trying to find a night-club that some of the others had bee to previously, called the Bulldog. Apparently it was a really nice club that played oldish music and had a karaoke bit for people to play around in. The problem was, neither of the people we were with could remember where it was, and the guy who gave us directions directed us to one with the same name but in a completely different place to the other. It turns out that there are six Bulldog clubs in Amsterdam. None of the four that we found were right, so in the end we gave up and went back to the hostel for our final night in Amsterdam… In all, I enjoyed the weekend off in the city. There were some scary moments (the red light district, almost having my Digital Camera nicked by a tramp in the Damraq, getting lost in a place where we couldn’t see anything), but it’s such a different culture to places even as big as London, it really opened my eyes. And the buildings, canals, museums and roadways were great to see. A final note about it, though. If you can, try and avoid using public toilets. The modern ones for men are literally a plastic pillar with four corners and holes in it. The older ones are metal frameworks wrapped around a divot in the ground. I never had to use one, thankfully. Next Time: Holland Trip Part 3: Venlo, Veghel and Very Nice Jumpers! P.S. I'll reveal the thumbsucking tomorrow, heh. Maddiemuse is from Venlo- her family looked after Jez for a night and she saw the show that we performed. Say hi! ^_^

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