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Published: April 9th 2008
Master Of Camouflage
See if you can spot me.*** Note : Conservative types/kiddies may wish to go read a newspaper/Disney book instead. ***
Monday 19th November In the evening we met John for a few pints at the Prince Alfred pub in Maida Vale. It was a grand old pub that had been renovated beautifully. Five bar compartments, each with its own door from the street, are separated from one another by wooden partitions, each with a small access door. The divisions within the pub reflected the divisions in Victorian society and there was a ladies bar and a private bar with snob screens over the bar counter to ensure privacy and anonymity.
Thursday 22nd November Off to the Dam!! As Emma was cash strapped from all her 2 months of touring I was heading across the channel on a solo voyage to check out Amsterdam for a few days. My plane was departing from Luton at 7.15am so I had to get up at 3.30 in order to get to all the connecting buses and trains on time. I was travelling light with just a small backpack which made getting through customs and check in a whole lot quicker and easier. An underground
train carried me from The Netherlands' Shiphol Airport to Centraal Station, in the heart of Amsterdam.
The first thing I noticed stepping out into the street at around 10.30am was that it felt quite chillsome, with a nose watering wind and 5°C temp. The second thing I noticed was the multi storey "bike park" to my right, full of thousands and thousands of pushies. Most of them were rusty old black granny bikes, but I was told good ones didn't last too long out on the streets. I headed straight up Damrak, which is the main street and worked my way eastwards towards the red-light district, home to "The Bulldog" hostel. The Bulldog is often rated the no.1 hostel in the world and was the first coffee shop established in Amsterdam. Their business had now expanded to include accommodation, bars, coffee shops, energy drinks, bike hire...you name it. This made it a bit difficult to find initially as the first Bulldog place I entered was a coffee shop and the second was a bar! Third time lucky, I checked in to the hostel and smelt my first whiffs of Mary Jane emanating from groups of Yanks who were chilling
out. As I went up to my room I noticed that the vending machine had lighters and rolling papers amongst the snacks and drinks. Only in Amsterdam.
One thing I wanted to see while I was here was the annual Cannabis Cup, the biggest event of its type in the world, and today was it's final day. Funnily enough, no one at The Bulldog knew exactly where it was being held this year. This led me back to tourist info centre at the Centraal Station who gave me directions to "the Expo". When the receptionist at the Expo told me the Cup wasn't held there this year and wasn't sure where it was, I was ready to give up. Wandering aimlessly now, my sixth sense picked up that the two young Americans walking along might have an clue. Right I was, they were on their way now, so I tagged along and finally arrived at the unlikely venue - an industrial warehouse in a business park, 2 hours after leaving The Bulldog.
I paid my €50 entry fee and collected my judges pass, which entitled me to vote for my favourite strain of the year from all the
various coffee shops (fyi - most don't actually serve coffee) and seed banks. Before I even got in the door I was offered my first taste of Dutch flora by a friendly Yank (they were everywhere!). When in Amsterdam.... Inside, each seed bank (including the famous Sensi) and coffee shop had a stall set up with various pamphlets, paraphernalia and of course, free samples of their entry in the Cup. I made my way upstairs to the popular Barnies Coffee Shop stall where I discovered the stall guy had lived in Victoria Park in Perth a few years back. Small world indeed. At each stand I was offered souvenirs and a sample of their wares in various forms using a variety of implements (including a 5m long plastic tube filled up by a vaporiser machine) and before too long I had to take a seat and chill out. I ended up chatting to a bunch of Americans for a while who'd come over especially for the Cup, while I had my first food for the day at a tummy rumbling 3pm.
A hip-hop/rock band with a couple of scantily clad backing dancers cranked up, providing some welcome entertainment for
the largely toasted crowd. Shortly after, one of the head honchos jumped on stage and pulled out the biggest doobie in the world (really!!), about a metre long, 8cm in diameter and weighing in at 100 grams. Everyone gathered around and had a go and I managed to grab a toke before passing it on to some guys who snatched it, tearing it in two. The crowd wasn't happy, but a quick repair job got it going again. For the second course a mammoth sized hookah with 40 hoses was wheeled out to everyone's amazement.
Needless to say, the whole venue was getting quite "Dutched up" by this stage, so I headed on out the back for a bit of fresh air. Fresh air is considered overrated in Amsterdam though, and it wasn't long before a couple of Japanese fellows I was chatting to passed the doochie 'pon the left hand side. The time to lodge votes for the Cup was running out and the procuring of votes through product placement (ie. have some weed, vote for us) was stepping up a notch to the point where they were up on stage throwing out handfuls of joints to the
crowd. Not that I could tell any of them apart after my "judging efforts", Barnies ended getting my vote due to the Aussie working for them and the Greenhouse Effect got my second vote thanks to some clever marketing (see earlier product placement note).
At about 9.30pm I was getting quite hungry,(for some reason) so me and a Canadian guy I'd met headed back to the town centre on the courtesy shuttle bus (if only I'd known earlier!). The same bus that had crashed into several parked cars on the way in that morning, full of joint passing passengers. 😊 We walked from the drop off point, near Centraal Station, across the road to the Grasshopper - a huge restaurant/coffee shop lit up in bright green neon. The poor T-bone that landed on my plate never had a chance, it was gone in a flash.
I said goodbye to my new friend and headed back to the red light district which was now full of tourists and no doubt, customers. With the red neon reflecting on the canals full of white swans, it wasn't really the seedy image that you'd think and was actually one of the nicest
parts of Amsterdam. The girls in the windows, seeing a young man walking by himself, were quite eager to get me to "visit" them, tapping on the windowed doors and waving me to come in. The little rooms they worked in had the red light turned on if they were working that night. If they were currently "on the job" they would pull the curtain shut until the deed was done and the guy exited via the same door (in full view of amused tourists). With the long day catching up to me know I shuffled over to my hostel and crashed in my 10 bed dorm room at about 1am.
Friday 23rd November I was a bit groggy today for some reason and slept in till about 11am, foregoing my complimentary breakfast. I left my bag at the hostel and went for a wander over to Dam Square, the main historical centre, created in the 13th century when a dam was built around the river Amstel to prevent the Zuiderzee sea from flooding the city. Hence the name, Amstel-Dam -> Amsterdam. The magnificent Royal Palace, Hotel Krasnapolsky and Madam Tussauds formed the rather tall boundaries of
this impressive area.
From here I headed back down Damrak and stopped at the famous Sex Museum. It looked a bit tacky but at only €3, it had to be done. It started off with mannequins in sexual positions, progressed to bondaged gimp-like figures complete with strap ons and escalated to animated models that sprang out waving their bits at you. Well, I never! 😊 Photos from decades long gone showing people fornicating filled one of the rooms, and the next one had a variety of fetish photos which would probably shock people not yet connected to the internet. A few dildo's and vibrating butt plugs later brought me to the end of the exhibits and it had been good value with a few chuckles.
As I walked back along the streets of the red light district I noticed that the quality (and quantity) of the working women had nosedived dramatically from the previous night. I think the rent for the rooms must be a lot cheaper in the daylight hours! I poked my head inside a few nearby coffee shops and quickly checked out the Cannabis College which provided educational material about Cannabis, not Degrees in Cultivation.
Just down the canal was the Sensi Seed Bank, probably the most famous of seed suppliers in the world and price lists of all their various strains showed some of them fetching over €100 per pack of 10. Next door was the Hemp Museum which was quite small and in need of an makeover, but still had a few cool displays and information about the many things hemp could be used for. They made it sound like it could save the world (if it weren't for the evil US government and their demonisation of it). A window from the museum into the Sensi shop showed their growing setup and about 10 plants eager to bloom.
The time had come to find my next hotel. I was mixing the accommodation up a bit just in case one of them was dodgy and so I could get a better feel for the place. A tram dropped me off about 3kms from the town centre near Vondelpark - a big, relaxing park with lakes and much greenery. It took me a while, but I found the Van Gogh Hotel in the end and dropped my stuff off. It didn't look too bad,
it wasn't the Ritz but was good value for what it was. I decided to head back out and see if the Cup was still running as I'd heard rumours of a big party. It turned out to be false information as when I got there no one was around except a black Californian girl who'd thought the same thing.
Seeing as though we both now had a bit of time up our sleeves, we thought we'd head back to Barnies coffee shop, who ended up winning the Cup with their G13 Haze strain. If I was going to buy some I may as well make it the winner, so I parted with €12 for a gram and sat down at a table with **insert black girls name** and some friends of hers that by coincidence had ended up there too. They were a friendly bunch of Germans, Austrians, Americans and Canadians and we ended up walking across town to find a place where we could grab a drink with our smoke (coffee shops had recently been banned from selling alcohol). We found a bohemian friendly little place called the Lounge Cafe which, quite aptly, had lounge cushions covering
the raised floor which felt like we were on one gigantic bed. Some other local guys were already set up, puffing away on their huge hookah and we spent the night there chatting away (or more than likely dribbling nonsense) and chilling out. If you couldn't chill out here, you just weren't capable of chilling. It defined chill. All this chatting (ahem) was making me hungry so me and **insert black girls name** said goodbye and took off in search of something sugary, before we parted ways. Got back to my hotel at 2.30am.
Saturday 24th November Slept in again (Doh!), checked out of the Van Gogh Hotel and checked back in to the Flying Pig Uptown hostel which, although was in the same area as the hotel, took me about 3 laps of the block to find. The Flying Pig (Uptown and Downtown) was another well known, popular hostel in Amsterdam with a quirkiness similar to that of The Bulldog. My 3 bedded room up on the 4th floor was pretty basic, just the beds, a TV and sink really with a shared bathroom, but it was cheap and good for someone who was out and
about all day.
I walked up the road to the Van Gogh Museum and fed my starving self at the cafeteria inside. Once you get up close to the tortured genius' masterpieces you gain more of an appreciation as you can see each chunky brush stroke jumping out from the canvas. Not quite 3D Imax, but you get the picture. Boodoom tshh. They say a picture's worth a thousand words so I won't attempt to describe them or this blog will never finish! After about an hour wandering the corridors I'd 'ad it up to ear, so I jumped on a tram bound for the town centre.
Most of the canal rides started from in front of the Centraal Station and I found one (uncomfortably named "Lovers") that was just about to leave, chock full of camera wielding Asians. Taking off in front of the station, we went out into the harbour and then swung left into one of the main canals that form concentric circles around the town. We passed by many "long boats" parked up on the side of the canals with some were quite large and expensive looking. I could think of worse places to
live! The Magere Brug (Skinny bridge), a famous landmark built in 1670 was seen raising up to let a ship underneath. We cruised by the narrowest canal in Amsterdam, counted 7 bridges looking down one long canal and on the home straight saw the Dutch East India Company ship “De Amsterdam” anchored in front of the NEMO Science Museum, which looked like a huge ship about to sink.
I wandered around the streets for a bit before taking a rest in Hunter's coffee shop for a (Bubblegum flavoured) breather. The weather was turning for the worse with a light drizzle now falling, which wasn't ideal for the red light district tour I was about to head over to. I met the guide at the station along with the other attendee. Yes, that's right, just the two of us were brave/silly enough to be out on this cold, wet night. On the bright side, we now had very personal service from the guide, a young American guy who'd lived in Amsterdam for several years.
To start off he took us across the road to the Prins Hendrik Hotel where, in 1988, the legendary jazz trumpeter Chet Baker was found
dead on the street below his second-story room. Foul play hadn't been ruled out, but as his room and body were full of heroin and cocaine, I'd suggest he accidentally fell out the window. Entering the district, the guide informed us that the red lights were most likely initially installed to make the working girl's skin look better. No foundation back in those days?? We walked down one cobbled street and noticed a series of matt black doors without windows and were told they were all gay clubs (the neon sign "Cockring" should have given it away, I know) and that what went in, never came out... OK, maybe not true (in a sense) but we were told of a story of a straight guy who was dared to venture in and came running out after only 10 seconds! 😊
We walked down some narrow side alley where some stairs led down into tunnels that were full of more windows not visible from the street front. The guide said a lot of people choose to see the women down here so they weren't seen coming (oh, the puns) or going by anyone. It was still a bit quiet at
around 7.30pm so we dropped into the guides favourite pub for a few drinks. Bloody cheap too! €8 bought 3 pints and 3 Yagermeister shots. Cockles warmed, we ventured back and found it was a fair bit busier with most of the windows occupied. It was a tad different to the night-life I was used to in Perth and London, but I didn't feel it was dangerous or seedy. It was really quite amusing seeing all the different characters about. After the official end of the tour we all headed back to the pub for a few more rounds and I had a couple of games of pool with the guide and an Aussie who'd informed me of our new PM Mr Rudd. Well blow me down! After this, it's a bit fuzzy, but I do remember lounging around in one coffee shop for a few hours chatting to the owner and his mates. Bed by 2am.
Sunday 25th November Finally managed to wake up in time for my free breakfast...and...it's pretty crappy. I shouldn't have expected much from a cheap hostel I suppose. The rain had moved in overnight and was now steadily falling along with
The Cannabis College
They're big on education over here. my health. Every time I go away I seem to get sick - Ireland, Croatia and now Amsterdam. I jumped on a tram, which, I think, are usually free. Although I did pay for 2 of them. Either that or there's lots of fare evaders. Today I was going to grab some souvenirs, something Amsterdam-ish, and I was pretty spoilt for choice with shops everywhere. I stopped at Baba's, one of the bigger ones, and purchased an fancy collectable pipe blown from special glass which set me back a cool €60. Some of the intricate dragon shaped ones were going for about €400!
From here I walked out to Ann Frank House across town, where I waited in line for about half an hour in the freezing weather. Once inside the nondescript building we were shown photographs, videos, manuscripts and other exhibits relating to the time of German occupation and the plans to hide the Frank family and friends in the secret three storey space (called an Achterhuis), the entrance to which was hidden by a bookcase. I'd always thought it was just her hidden away. I was wrong, the whole Frank family and a few others as well
lived in the confined space for over 2 years with help from those that lived downstairs. Anyway, you probably already know the story and it's sad ending. It was good, but I feel I should have read the diary before I went there so I could appreciate it better. Saying that, on the way out, I grabbed a copy of it at the gift shop.
I was feeling quite worn out after 4 days of exploring and my flu wasn't helping, so after a bit more shopping I headed back down to the Centraal Station and jumped aboard a double decker train to Shiphol Airport. While I was dozing off on board, my bag full of goodies fell off my leg and I woke to pick it up. Looking back this must have been when my precious €60 memento disappeared into the guy sitting opposite me's bag. Not happy Jan when I couldn't find it, I'll give you the hot tip. An uneventful plane journey brought me back home exhausted but happy I'd conquered another great city.
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