Memories from an Evening Walk Along Amsterdam’s Red Light District and More

Along the Red Light District, the hookers tapped frantically on their red-draped windows. Anything to get you to look at them. Don’t. One of the temptresses even opened up the door and tried to beckon me in when I turned my head just a little too far toward her hungry rhythm.

The aforementioned men who ply in illicit drugs even where most are tolerated, and illicit prostitutes where prostitutes are legal and plentiful, they come up beside you like old friends while you’re walking and match your stride. They just start asking casually if you’d like some cocaine. If not, what else? Surely sex with people so young that some would call it rape would finish off the evening nicely in the absence of a good cup of coffee. They’re persistent fuckers and they don’t take no for an answer either. Maybe it’s because I was in the Red Light District alone, and I guess some people who go into the Red Light District alone do so because they don’t want other people knowing where they’re going or what they’re doing, and perhaps they’re often looking for something specific. But either way, they must not have much feel of the jailer, because they don’t take no for an answer until about the 3^rd time, even if you don’t utter anything else in the way of conversation.

I won’t miss the bums either. I ran into one bum that looked reasonably well groomed, but apparently frustrated by how unfruitful the tactic of sitting on the side of the street and asking for money had been, he had decided to take a more active approach. That is to say, he would stand in front of you, in your way, and ‘ask for’ money. ‘Ask for’ in this case meaning that he didn’t feel he was in a position to outright demand it, but he didn’t seem to feel that it was very fair that people like you were allowed to turn him down either, and he was very clear on this point.

The hostel I stayed at in Belgium was inviting. It had a nice common room with a bar that actually served great beer at a good price. But sleeping rooms were laid out as large empty rooms with regimented bunks, and had a very impersonal feel to them. In Amsterdam the staff was very friendly. There was no common room, and the sleeping room as smaller. Normally, one would think that a negative attribute, but they also shoved less people into a single room. The place was cozier and friendlier and I think that that effected everyone. I actually managed to have a chat with all my roommates, except two of the girls I was staying with (who were both travelling alone and I suspect a little unnerved by that along with the mixed-sex room). Now that I write that, I kind of wish I had made more of an effort to talk to them -- they might have appreciated it the most. Still, I suppose the time is past, so there’s little point in regret.