“So are they actually having sex in those places?” Eric asked as we walked by storefronts filled with girls knocking on the glass to get our attention and beckoning us toward their sordid dens of morally reprehensible behavior. Well, not just behavior. It is a legal profession here after all. The girls were dressed in lingerie or just a bra and underwear. Their eyes were lined in heavy make-up and they all look bored and used, until a potential client walked by.
A door opened and one of the girls called out to a man standing nearby. He had looked at her and now she wanted to discuss the price for possible services. I had heard the “basic” is 50 euros and some girls make upwards of 500 euros during a shift. Walk out of work with 500 euros, but leave 10% and your dignity with the pimp sitting in the back.
But back to Eric’s disbelieving question.
“Well it says “Sex Shop” above the door. If it said “Cheese Shop”, they would be selling cheese. The logic follows that if it says “Sex Shop” then they’re selling sex.” I knew he knew that already but I think we were both in shock that everything was RIGHT THERE. All one would have to do is walk up to the door and negotiate a price.
Welcome to the Red Light District in Amsterdam.
It’s just like what you’ve heard. Sex exploited in every imaginable way, bars, and “coffeeshops”. (Hint: when “coffeeshop” is written as one word, the establishment is not selling lattes and cappuccinos.) Tourist groups walk by with wide eyes. The smell of marijuana and beer hangs in the air and the feeling that anything goes permeates the entire scene.
“Um, is that girl looking at you or me?” I asked Eric.
[Lurid glare and window tap to the right.] “I think both, actually.” He replied.
The sun had started to set and we decided not to stay and see the full red glow for which the district is named. We stopped at the convenience store and got two more Heinekens for the walk back to the hotel. It was dark by the time we had made it out to the main street and we had to consult the map to see which way we were supposed to go.
“This way, I think,” said Eric and we started down a side street.
About a block down there was music blaring from a tent. People were running in and out of the apartments adjacent to the sidewalk where the party was happening. No one seemed to notice that we were standing there. In front of us there was a table set up with mustard, ketchup, lettuce, and… hamburger buns! Two women in matching orange t-shirts were grilling hamburgers just behind the table. The girl standing in front of me handed me a plate and then handed one to Eric. Eric looked at me. I looked at him. I guess we’re eating dinner here. Hooray! We got our burgers and asked a guy passing buy where we could buy drinks. He looked at us strangely and I hoped I hadn’t just blown our cover. He indicated to a large green garbage can and said they were in there and that they were free. Two more cans of Heineken coming up!
We stayed at the party for a little while, chatted with some people who knew someone who knew the person having the party or whatever. (Yes, um, so do we. Right.) It was sponsored by some online advertising service, so I wasn’t too worried about talking our way through that one if need be. It’s all about a reasonable, not too highly detailed cover story, right? Oh, and thinking on your feet in case you happen to put one in your mouth by mistake. Luckily, there was no need for any of that.
After another drink, we decided it was time to head back to the hotel for real this time. We got about 20 feet away from the tent and it started to rain. No, not just rain. Actually the sky started to soak us with fat raindrops impossible to escape. We ran back to the tent that was already crowded with partygoers. It was impossible to get through the throng of people. Back to the original plan: let’s just go.
We got to another side street and decided to take it. And low and behold, another party! Well we couldn’t go straight back to the hotel then, of course. While this one didn’t have hamburgers, they did have a concert! It was still raining but we were already wet, so we just took in the scene and the music and danced in the rain. We didn’t bother trying to talk to anyone or think of a reason we were there beyond just hanging out; it was just way too much fun and the music was too loud anyway! But that concert came to an end and…
We decided it was time to head back to the hotel for real this time. We made it back to the main square (two streets from our hotel), but what was this?? Another free concert! Well we couldn’t go straight back to the hotel then either. We stayed and danced to the Dutch-accented Journey and Poison, and the band’s original songs. It was still raining and everyone was wet and jumping around and having an amazing time. Why not? It was the night before Queen’s Day (what I can best equate to St. Patrick’s Day in the US).
We had no idea that we had planned to go to Amsterdam during a holiday weekend, but sometimes you just stumble into a good time and there’s only one thing to do: roll with it. And we did.
Until tomorrow and the new adventure…
Rachel
