03 Jul 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Travelogue, No Comments.

07/03 Amsterdam, Netherlands

There were no hedges, nor fences, in the bare and uniform countryside leading into the Netherlands.  We were heading back into the crossroads of traffic back into the circus they had named Amsterdam.  I could see no natural boundaries that separated the courtyard from the jester.  We planned to stay in the red light district to get some color, so we followed the light toward a cold beer.  We ended up walking for hours searching for a room.  When we finally located an available bed its cost exceeded our budget.  Eventually, we learned that there were a couple of beds available up above the bar we had been drinking in.  We were told that the band stopped playing around two in the morning and then things would start to quiet down.  Well that never happened.

There were about twelve of us in the room at any one time and I don’t think the light ever went out.  It just kept going and going, with all the earmarks of a circus.  The only exception was that nobody was selling peanuts.  Local drug dealers would make their rounds in-between beds and when nobody opened their wallet, they’d roll one up anyway and pass it around.  The room’s jester was a mute and it could have been assumed that he would be the quiet one in the group, but no.  With the continuous waving of his hands, he was like the conductor of an orchestra who demanded each note that he had written be read, writing note after note after note.  In the beds to my left was a pair of guys from somewhere in Sweden.  I don’t think they ever stop talking.  “OK, you didn’t know places like this existed.  I heard you!  Go to sleep!”  After awhile I just had to get out of there, so I laced up my tennis shoes, took a few hits of weed and went out into the dark to jog.  While running I stopped to rest and noticed an elderly British couple standing in front of a window displaying the latest assortment of dildos.  Their expressions were classic and should have been put on film.  Enjoying Amsterdam is, in many respects, it’s a lot like experiencing a drug.  There are those individuals who when forced off their normal path, feel lost and focus all their attention on getting back to familiar ground.  Those types of people would never see Amsterdam as it truly is.  But for those like us who never feel we can get lost, who enjoy seeing new things, taking new paths and have the confidence that the same road still awaits us, this place holds intrigue.  “Our music’s loud and our streets are crowded, all summer long, doesn’t matter which street corner, our emotions are running strong”.

I walked among the field of painted faces and clowns
sand and waves crash and roar, in silence sings, she’s coming down

Another sells books which he laid on the ground
a boy runs down the shore, south winds bring, another round