The Wanderings

Day 6 - Oh sweet Amsterdam

Day 6

     I woke early from my booze-enhanced slumber and made my way to the train station to board the first train to Amsterdam.  A mixture of anticipation and uncertainty cluttered my mind as I awaited my steel chariot.  What would Amsterdam be like?  Will it be everything I dreamed of?  Is anything there illegal?  How is a Canadian who grew up in a relatively conservative and prudent society expected to react to its’ very antithesis?  The amount of questions running through my now sober mind would drive others to titanic binges of drugs and alcohol.  However, I am not a normal person.  I can evade the evil necessities of life.  I can say ‘not right now’ to drugs.  I am a strong man.... well at least I thought so until I travelled to Disneyland for Adults. 

     As the train inched towards the ‘Dam I gazed out the window at the landscape as it passed by. My eyes blurred in technicolour as the bullet train sped past endless fields of violets and daffodils.  It seemed like fitting practice for the next few days.  As we cruised along, I felt like the small child whose eyes are plastered to the backseat window of his parent’s woody wagon as they drove to Disneyland.  The number of images running through his puny little head would overload most circuits. Riding the rides…playing (paying) with (for) Minnie…eating all of the fun foods like cotton candy, candied apples, magic mushrooms or downing endless jugs of cool, smooth Stella Artois.  My anticipation continued to build as the train station drew closer.

     Prior to going to Amsterdam, the only thing I knew about the city was either learned from rumour or concocted in the warped recesses of my mind. Amsterdam…the city of drugs, live sex shows, wooden shoe stores and that the artist who went and cut his own ear off.  Laws?  Bah!  There are no laws in Amsterdam.  Morals…sorry, come again?  Oh, one other thing, when I thought of Holland I imagined my train travelling alongside a massive dike.  Speeding along, I visualized looking out and seeing boys in lederhosen and wooden shoes doing their civic duty by plugging holes in the dikes with their plump little fingers.  Chug…chugga, chugga, chugga…cho.choooo!    Upon arrival, I would quickly discover that there was much more to the city than I originally thought. 

     Upon approach, I awoke from my dreamy zombie-like trance and noticed something quite unexpected.  The capital of Holland reminded me of a place all too familiar.  It looked no different than neighbourhoods of my hometown of Toronto.  A steady stream of modern commercial office complexes were lined up one after another.  Xerox, Apple Computer, Shell, Sony.  They were all there.  Instead of buildings made of rough cut stone stained by centuries of pollution and wear, all I saw was glass and steel.  This was quite unexpected.  I just left Brussels, Bruges and Ghent where every city, every building looked like it was constructed hundreds of years ago.  In contract, suburban Amsterdam has ultra modern architecture affixed with global multinational brand advertising positioned on the roof tops.  Thankfully, my expectations were reaffirmed when we arrived at Station-Amsterdam-Centraal.

     Aside from dreaming about narcotics and prostitutes, I also used the time spent travelling to survey the bible and select which hostel was to be my home during my stay.  It was actually an easy choice.  How does Durty Nellys Irish Pub and Hostel sound?  You too?  Yep. Just the prospect of sleeping a short crawl from my chosen bar stool made Durty Nellys the most logical fit.  However, immediately upon stepping out onto the platform, I was hounded by a gang of punks begging me to stay at their “Five Star” hostel.  Follow that up with a succession of derelicts peddling a hodgepodge of chemical and organic drugs and my reception was rather unexpected.  I ignored that lot too, albeit less enthusiastically, and continued on my way.  Onto Durty Nelly’s it was!

     One other item…my train arrived at approximately 1 PM.  By 1:05 PM, already pick-pocketed.  What a terrible start to my few day scheduled stay in Holland.  Unfortunately, I was only able to pocket 25 Guilders from my unsuspecting victim.   Next time, I will target someone more affluent. To be serious, the bible foretold of gangs of thieving crooks cruising outside the central Amsterdam train station.  Thus, as I descended the platform I kept a keen eye out for anyone with shifty eyes, wearing a fedora, black trench coat and had extremely long fingers.