FYI, the complete set of The Canals of Amsterdam can be found here: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four
When you talk about Amsterdam, or more specifically, when you talk about visiting Amsterdam, there are one or two fun facts that always get asked about by people. The first one is the legalized pot they sell all around the city in its various "coffee" shops. Pot and Amsterdam are as close as Guinness and Ireland, or sunny skies and Saudi Arabia.
The other famous Amsterdam factoid is the infamous Red Light District, Amsterdam's neighborhood of legalized prostitution and sex shops . Everyone always wants to know about the Red Light District, and when you talk about Amsterdam, it's an unavoidable topic of conversation. And so, I suppose, when you write about Amsterdam, the Red Light District is, inevitably, going to get brought up.
Bicyclemark, the legendary citizen reporter of the 'Dam, owns a small boat called The Red August. If that name suggests something revolutionary and vaguely socialistic, then that is probably how Bicyclemark wants it.
A ride through the canals of Amsterdam on The Red August had been promised by Mark during the planning stages of the trip. Another Dutch blogger, just a nameless girl who goes by Just a Girl, came up from the south to join us. We were enjoying a small backyard party at Mark's home, the Politburo (see above), and dusk was settling in, and we were anxious to get into that damn boat.
Mark graciously tore himself away from the garden shindig and took us to where his boat was docked, a short walk from his home. As the light disappeared behind the brick buildings of the city, we boarded Mark's small boat and set off for our ride.
Most of the canals were built in the 17th century, for residential development and defense purposes. They form a series of concentric half-circles throughout the city and are Amsterdam's number one tourist attraction, giving the city the nickname, "the Venice of the North."
After wandering through the city's various canals, we made our way onto the Amstel River after an hour or so in the boat. Party boats passed us by, we floated under bridges packed with people enjoying their Saturday night, and we watched it all happen from a small red boat cutting through the night-dark water. Much of the city is designed to be seen by canal, and once we were out on the water, and saw the city lit at night, from the perspective of the quiet network of canals, Neuwirth and I started to understand and appreciate the city better.
As we bobbed along on the river, Mark seemed to be having a small conversation with himself, tilting his head this way and that, until he finally came to a decision. "I thought about taking us over here... Hmm. Yeah, I should show you that. Nahh. Let's go to the red light district." He turned the boat around and we left the wide river, moving into a narrow canal that cut through the heart of the city.
Soon enough the crowds along the canals became thicker, louder, and the quiet calm of the dark canal was replaced by a neon electric thrum that pulsed out from every shop window, every street.
I don't think the Amsterdam Red Light District is something I would have visited on my own, or even with a game travel partner like Bobby Neuwirth tagging along. It's just... not my thing, you know? There's too much of a "tee-hee" quality to the whole thing. Back in the states I've never felt the need to hire a prostitute, legal or illegal, drunk or sober, and even with the Amsterdam better business bureau making this choice a lot easier for me, I find that I'm content to just watch it glide by as I sail along on Mark's boat.
It's like a more pornographic version of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disney World. It feels just as artificial, only here you're allowed to get off the boat and join the drunken carousing, if you're so inclined.
Later that night, after the canals were done, we found ourselves in a former city morgue, now transformed into a late-night museum of modern art. One room had a mixed-media collage of people running in a park or doing trust exercises; another held a large curved room divider that caught JaG's eye and we finished out our night posing in front of it and taking pictures.
Until JaG accidentally kicked it while leaping in the air; then we got the hell out of there.
Sunday morning came 'round and we said goodbye to the Hotel de Filosoof; said goodbye to Bicyclemark and Jag; said goodbye to the bikes, to the beer, and to the canals. Hauled our packs into Centraal Station and bought tickets for the next stop, Antwerp, Belgium, and continued on with our travels.
