Day 36: Discovering Amsterdam (the Red Light District)

And finally, the most awaited post of all: the (erroneously) infamous and internationally famous Red-Light District of Amsterdam, one of the most open and tolerant corners of the world. However, let's go step by step.

My route that day started where it left off last time, close to the Spui Square. The main street which runs parallel to the square is called Rokin; well, it's called Rokin south of Dam, because north of here the same street receives the name Damrak, where we were yesterday. You can see that the Amsterdammers put all of their originality into the streets and, when they started on the churches, they'd already used it all up (Oude Kerk - Old Church, Nieuwe Kerk - New Church, Zuide-Kerk - South Church, Westerkerk - West Church... and a long, bland et cetera).

Close to the statue of the popular Queen Juliana (as a general rule, the Dutch have loved their queens more than their kings), there's a B&B café; a modern, young and red establishment (the woman from the shop yesterday would like it), which prepares fantastic, cheap sandwiches from noon, and some delicious hot chocolates. The collection of muffins is also very attractive. In fact, together with the counter, they have put a bucket out because they are already fed up of having to clean up the clients’ drool. I order a different one each time I go, in my effort to collect them all (yes, like Pokémon). I thought that they would finally start to recognise me, but: surprise, it's a chain! So I can alternate between branches. There is also one close to the Holland Casino and another opposite Amsterdam Centraal, I seem to remember. Anyway, KFC can also be called a ‘chain’... leading me there for every breakfast and lunch visit.

Just opposite the B&B you can find the construction works of the metro, which connects the North of the city to the South. Differently to constantly-under-construction-Spain, where if they dig up your road, they'll be digging it up for a year and you can piss off, in Amsterdam they have come up with a particular way of compensating citizens for the inconvenience that the works can cause: they have opened the sites to the public, and - as such - the workman himself becomes a strange tourist attraction in the huge tunnel which extends for most of Rokin street. I repeat, a particular way. It’s another way to see Amsterdam, I would say something more underground; with no less light either, in truth, especially if you find yourself on one of those cloudy days in which you need binoculars to see to the ends of your shoes.

Crossing the short bridge with the statue of Mina (already becoming familiar), Amelie-lovers will be delighted with the little turning windmill perched on top of the next building. An obligatory stop. Along with this, you can find the Allard Pierson: a cosy museum of history and archaeology, which, however, is home to many unexpected treasures which (in principle) never had any contact with Holland. So you can find anything from Etruscan relics to Cypriot ones, passing by Egyptian mummies along the way. The truth is that I didn't enjoy the place too much; although I really like many of the topics and the museum was 1000 times more interesting than the Amsterdam museum (nor is it very difficult, it must be emphasised), that day I had gone into the Red Light District with expectations, so dead cultures unsurprisingly left me a little cold at the time. Not to mention that that day, by coincidence, high school students were paying a visit. Even the Dutch don't always know how to behave in a museum. Luckily I left early, because at the exit I found another excursion - of primary school children! Who chooses the school trips in this country?

Where the Red-Light District's two main canals, Oudezijds Voorburgwal and Oudezijds Achterburgwal, come together (so to speak) - much further south than where you can find out why they call the area red - you’ll find the Faculty of Law of the city’s main university, the University of Amsterdam, boxed away. At that moment, I entered to have a look at the level of ability - however, I wasn't very impressed by the university itself, but its location. One accesses the faculty via a cloister, in whose porches a daily second-hand book market is organised. The cloister's indoor garden is beautiful enough with its trees, its greenery and its central statue. Nothing like the University of Deusto's enormous gardens and cupulate (and I did say 'cu-') cloisters I still have to see, though, for sure.

Culture and education give way to another type of education, if we follow the road up. This is provided for you by the Hash, Marijuana and Hemp Museum, the city's other big tourist rip-off, if you remember the Sex Museum we were talking about the other day. If you like the museum, do it from outside, because it's no longer worth paying to see (nor is your Museumkaart valid here). The Museum is owned by a company dedicated to the (legal) sale of marijuana and the rest, like literally half of the establishments on the street. The Museum was closed the same day it was inaugurated, but the owner appealed, won and kept it open... I'm sure the judge would have ruled otherwise if he had taken a look inside: it is deathly boring. In fact, the owner spends most of the year travelling the world, supposedly collecting diverse artifacts from different parts of the globe related to his favourite herb - although I suspect that he just can't be bothered to come back to his own museum...

The hustlers working there don't give you anything to try - that happens at the beer museum (Heineken Experience), and even then only if you're there at happy hour. But you'll leave knowing a great deal about the history of the herb and its multiple uses... although I still can't tell the difference between hash and marijuana. Many things have been said about this plant over the years, and many stances have been taken against it... and it seems they are all listed in this museum. Perhaps it's worth mentioning the quotes regarding it by the US Presidents (including Obama), but, in general, I'd say it's more of a curiosity than time well-spent. It's the middle of the Red-Light District, I'm SURE there's something more interesting to see!

I went during the day, and already there was movement (please, as if they would stop for ME), as there is from dawn. By the way, Monday morning is the preferred time for the British, the most regular visitors. If you want to practice your English, go. But it's at night when you can best appreciate the Red-Light District in all of its sordid glory: the streets are full (of tourists), the windows are lit up (in red, obviously) and the prostitutes rub themselves up against the glass with supposedly provocative intentions, some with more charm than others. Although many of them don't get off their mobile phones until a client is practically (and literally) on top of them, the window girls are paid by the prostitutes, coming out with up to 150 euros per night, depending on the zone. And for any interested ladies (and men, because remember, this is Amsterdam), be aware that there are no male prostitutes. From what I have read, they performed an experiment a few years ago, but they had to 'retire' the same day, as the female prostitutes themselves complained - strongly - that it was DEGRADING. Incidentally, all of the male prostitutes' clients were other men. Honestly, I can't imagine a woman haggling the price of a guy at the foot of his window, as I have seen several men do.

And a little bit of advice, of course: as much as you value your camera, I can assure you that the prostitutes value their dignity and privacy even more. This can result in crossed wires, yes, but I can assure you that their senses of these values are very deeply entrenched and nothing will stop them from getting out of their window and smashing your camera on the ground if you focus on them directly (even from the street). And by the same token they will certainly take your mobile from you.

On the other hand, the truth is that the Red-Light District itself hasn't been my favourite trip. Not only because it's quite sordid and one can find the worst of the city meandering down its streets (or canals, if they've drunk too much); but because beyond the originality of the setting, they're still women selling their bodies, for all of the democracy with which the subject is viewed. As well as making me feel violent (which I'm sure is my own thing and a result of the education I have received), I can't stop asking myself how they got here and what situation forces them to exhibit themselves like products in a grotty shop.

If you manage to get escape unscathed from the main streets and, more importantly, the window-filled alleys like Stoofstraat or St. Annestraat (you'd need a funny sense of humour to dedicate a street to a saint HERE), to the right you can appreciate the Oude Kerk - Amsterdam's Old Church, which dates back to the beginning of the 14th Century. If from the outside it already seems grand, the inside will surprise you with its light and warmth - although clearly, being immersed in the middle of the Red-Light District, I didn't expect quite so much... warmth. In fact, for several years, in front of the church and next to the windows of Afro-American prostitutes (because they also spread goodwill), there was a nursery. But even the innate tolerance of the Dutch people couldn't keep that going. What they expressly asked to keep, however, was 'Belle'. 'Belle' is the statue of a prostitute which mysteriously appeared in front of the Oud Kerk; although the police tried to remove it, the public demanded that it stay there as it was. And so it has. Less certain is the story of the paving stone adjacent to the statue, also in front of the Church: it shows a hand caressing a breast. The breast of the Queen, according to rumours, but I'm not volunteering to test that out.

• Slip-up of the Day: In Amsterdam they always offer you hot chocolate with cream. What they don't tell you is the price of the drink: it always costs more, even if (almost always) they don't tell you.
• Moral of the day: Don't let the reflections from the windows and the red lights blind you. These women are working, but I don't think they're having fun. It's shameful and humiliating that we live in a society in which there are women who have no other option than to dedicate themselves to prostitution. It says a lot about this democracy that we consider ourselves above countries we call 'underdeveloped'.
• God bless: My orange trousers. I'm sure they made a number of prostitues doubt whether it was worth chatting me up or not.

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