I wasn't ready to give them back, but we had to leave anyway.
Amsterdam is a giant misconception. This is straight from the horses mouth, not mine, but a true local. First, no one who lives there is doing so to indulge in extra circulars. This could mean many things, but we'll assume for the sake of Amsterdam's stereo type, I'm speaking of marijuana and prostitution. They say almost all of the people doing the smoking and fornicating are actually those who seek Amsterdam out for that specific reason. Hence the outlandish fairy tale myths of biblical proportion that this city is so filled with pot smoke that one cannot see through the haze.
*Sidenote: Don't get me wrong, it exists. I've turned many a corner and gotten a face full of 'a party'.
However, it is rarely Amsterdam's actual residents that are instigating and or partaking in these shenanigans. This is dually true for prostitution. I felt some relief that it wasn't a pastime that the Flemish enjoyed so much that they decided to legalize, yet a problem they knew would exist with or without their consent. Then comes the legalization, rules, regulations, and safety precautions (if you will).
So ultimately, I'd give Amsterdam the green light. This city is amazing. It is packed with culture, history, reasonable prices, and friendly faces. No city lives in a glass house, and Amsterdam certainly isn't the one throwing rocks. If you haven't been to Amsterdam and like concerts, markets, free museums, delicious food, and reasonable accommodations.. it is a place I would strongly persuade you to look into. Plus the whole English as a second language there has provided a much needed reprieve in the whole communication barrier thing.
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After being in Amsterdam a few days, I decided to pursue my curiosity. I asked Erik to take me to the red light district. Now I know, I know, wooooooahh, put on the brakes! YOU went to the red light district?! It's scary, and dangerous, and dirty, and I heard that you can inhale horrible diseases, and people jump out of vans to take you away to pre-industrial countries never to be heard from again!??!
'Tis not so, my dear. I will, however, say my first reaction was one of sadness. I have sat through womens lib classes, studied feminism, read the greats like Marilyn French, and written papers on the meaning of self discovery, equal pay, and a liberated women's domain. Yet, turning the corner and seeing the first window encased in a red/neon lighting was... hard.
It's true. These women get paid for their services. They do this voluntarily. They set their own hours, their own rules, and are tested for S.T.Ds on a monthly basis. Yet, it is not empowerment you feel when walking by their windows and they slip out their door to hang their half naked bodies out to sing cat calls at anyone within hearing distance. It is not self-discovery you feel when you see groups of men going from window to window critiquing all the women, grabbing the sides of their stomach to mock the weight some women may carry, the snares on their faces when they encounter a lady less than their expectations. An aura of respect does not meet you when you hear a women say PLEASE as she reaches her arm out to the man contemplating coming into her den.
Yet sex sells. This is her body, her instrument, her treasure. I don't want to wrap them up, or throw a towel on them, or make them do anything they wouldn't do out of their own free will. But I will say I did NOT feel liberation for our gender. I did not feel we were one-upping manhood, or showing the world any sort of 'can do' power.
What got me- more than their half naked bodies, or their perfectly manicured fingers and toes, or their little stools they have to sit on with their flimsy cot in the background- what got me was their smiles. It was as if they were scabs. The bare minimum of protection against the outside world. Yes, but see, we are EMPOWERED. We are SMILING. Isn't this smile inviting and IN CONTROL? Yet such vulnerability seems to linger so close to the surface. You are playing with life.. with your health, and greet these risks with your smile. A small and tender scab.
As we left, I was happy we'd went. I had to know. I know that there are theoretical arguments galore against what I was saying, and what I just relayed as an experience. The difference between theory and applied application seems to be a world apart. And none is a better example than the field experience of the 'red light' district. I am a firm believer in womens rights, empowerment, equality, social, psychological, and economical gains for all womankind... yet, I need to say that I did not find it exercised there.
... wait, and I said I liked this city??? Yes, of course I do. This is a SMALL, VERY SMALL, portion of the city. Again, these monstrosities of myths make it seem like there are two sections to Amsterdam. Take a Right if you came here for cannabis, and a Left if you came here for fornication. I'll close the book, and tell the story the right way. Seek them out, and they can be yours. Opt out, and the city will have other opportunities awaiting your interest.
I sought out finding the red light district. Erik and I would never have found it had we not have looked. So, yes, it is possible to go to Amsterdam and never set foot in the red light district.
It's one of those cities that has something for everyone. Whatever floats your boat, or tricks your trigger, you can find it in Amsterdam.
So, Amsterdam...... peace my friend. You get a green light.
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