Amsterdam canal, The Netherlands
May 25, 2008
"Why would you want to get high in a city like Amsterdam?", I wondered. "I wasn't and could barely figure out how to get home!"
Talala! Amsterdam, here I am! Just
like most young Americans and Canadians, I had always wanted to visit Amsterdam.
Why? Who knows? Something about alternative lifetstyles I guess. I just felt
like I could never visit Europe without visiting this famous city. But who
was I kidding? Nobody "visits" Amsterdam! There is nothing to see in Amsterdam!
The proof? What seemed to attract most people's attention was my 7 month
pregnant belly. Granted this must be a rare sight in that type of city, I
felt strangely misplaced and I certainly did not need people's stares to
realize that either. After about 5 minutes in the city (if that), I came
to the conclusion that I was not going to have a good time there. Why? Well,
"unless you plan on living this town fully, you may come back feeling strangely
empty", I thought. Now, going there pregnant meant I couldn't quite get what
Amsterdam was "all about". Not that I would have tried the special batch
of brownies, the doobies or the Red Lite District lovies but I very well
might have tried the nightlife and a little cordial of Green Fairy. But
"unfortunately" for little me, I had to tour completely sober and rather
pregnant which made me feel like I was too old to tour this circus. I felt
like a dean who walks into a wild, noisy, intoxicated, liberal college town:
I was uninvited, stared at, and did not quite fit in. "So why try?", I thought.
How could I possibly hide that the luscious human window displays did not
make me slightly uncomfortable? Or that the noxious fumes emanating from
the brown cafés (but also from many passerbys) was making me stop
breathing periodically? Bah, to be honest, Amsterdam was just not my type
of city. It was just not me, especially at this special time in my life.
It was simply too loud, too smelly, too young. Even the canals turned out
to be disappointing; I thought they'd be charming but they are as brown as
the walls of the brown cafés (stained by smoke) and encumbered by
intoxicated youths on Heineken and other "green" stuff. "Why would
you want to get high in a city like Amsterdam?", I wondered. I wasn't and
could barely figure out how to get home. Their signs are either absent, incomplete
or utterly confusing. Ask the Dutch for help and you'll quickly realize that
they are just as confusing and unfriendly to tourists as their signs are.
All in all, note to self: Been there, done that!
