We arrived in the Netherlands yesterday, the land of the windmill, clogs, tulips, and the push-bike, reaching Amsterdam at 5. We're staying in the red light district at the Christopher Inn, next door to Nelly's Irish pub, which is one down from the strip club.
Amsterdam is a big joint. Meant in the drug sense. The place is humming with that smell...you know the one I mean. On the way to our hostel, we realised the place is teaming with the worship of drugs and sex. There are sex shops here, with a range of items to choose from. There are coffee shops, where you don't necessarily get coffee. And there are massage parlours, which apparently finish off with a happy ending. Our hostel looks like a dive, although comfortable. It, too, has that smell...you know the one I mean. In our room, a spaced out-looking bare-breasted woman peers down on us from the wall. In our bathroom, a light is fitted to the ceiling, but no light switch can be found. It's as if they're saying 'hey man, so long as you've got weed to smoke, who cares about light switches?'
We caught up with our friends, Ann and Barry who flew over from Wales. We had a few beers and then dinner. While we were eating in the restaurant, Barry spotted a mouse running along the skirting board.
An Amsterdam condomerie