(H)Amsterdam

Amsterdam is a cliché. Normally, this would be a problem for me but in this specific instance it is pretty wonderful. Which is not to say that it is entirely a splendid, wide-eyed wonderland. This is, after all, the birthplace of modern capitalism and as such it is very much enshrined. The best part of the Damisn't the wide variety of legalised products available at a fairly reasonable rate. It isn't the predominance of cultural icons in a densely packed urban environment (verging on a few hundred museums in a city space the size and shape of a Brobdingnagian thimble). It isn't that the liberal and rawk reputation has somehow kept the city on the maps of artists and bands, punching above its population weight.


No, it is the sincere politeness of every citizen. It occurs to one at a certain point this could well be a desperate ploy to keep the tourists flooding in. However, when the security guard of the Jewish Historical Museum starts complimenting you on the music on your mp3 player (that you forgot to hand over before going through a metal detector) you get the impression that they much teach this sort of stuff in school.

Turning down charity muggers produced enquiries as to origins and pleasant wishes for a happy holiday. Smiling at people in the street either gets you a stoned goggling or a fervent "Good morning!". Turning down a prostitute earns a saucy wink and a non-committal shrug.



Sure, there's a predilection in the visiting population for white-guy dreadlocks and Bob Marley t-shirts. Certainly, the number of stag parties shame-facedly stumbling and mumbling obscenities to each other and then blushing may offend you in ways you didn't know existed (it'd almost be better if they were brash, uglier and more confident). Of course, your concept of exploitation skews selfishly and takes the viewer into more account than the fleshly market. And there's definitely a lack of public toilets that you'll be willing to go in. And American tourists sparking up in inappropriate places will become the bane of your existence (IT'S A ZOO, F'R CHRIST'S SAKE! THERE ARE KIDS. THE PLANETARIUM IS RIGHT OVER THERE: THAT'S WHAT PLANETARIUMS ARE FOR).


But this all fades into insignificance when you are doing free shots against the barman. Or in a club where the DJ is too polite not to play ALL your requests. Or when the tourists take pictures of you as a memento of those people who nearly crashed into a tour-boat when they refused to sit down on a pedalo.

This came from a shop with S&M mannequins

Such a pity that this was followed by Bruges, then...

Also, there was a ship that burnt down the day we left. Total coincidence that we were some of the last to see it.