Pink Elephants, Mud, Cock Rings, and Marijuana
Written: Aug 05 '01 (Updated Aug 05 '01)
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Product Rating:
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Pros: unique experience, surrealistic artistic 60's feel, Two Dogs lemon beer
Cons: some people might be offended by the blatant open sex
The Bottom Line: Amsterdam's infamous Red Light District is a surreal mix of colors and shapes and angles, an artistic delight that doesn't feel like the world's largest outdoor brothel.
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| quasar's Full Review: Red-Light District |
It was quite simply the strangest evening of my life. I sat in a bar that looked like every other bar I've ever been in, enjoying a bottle of surprisingly good Two Dogs lemon beer from Australia and my world twisted off its axis.
It wasn't the sex. Amsterdam's Red Light District is known for sex, sex, and more sex. All of that I took in stride. But my brain seemed unable to cope when a random guy sidled up the bar, plopped down the local equivalent of about $2 US, and bought a hand-rolled joint from the bartender.
I tried to play it cool, not act like the prudish American. Here I was in Europe with a Swedish friend and four of his friends. I didn't want to embarrass my friend or embarrass myself. I had been out drinking with these people for three nights in a row at that point and it was a matter of pride that I was accepted into their group, the only female adventurous enough to join in on the fun. I didn't want to miss anything so I tried to hide my reaction.
I knew marijuana was legal in Amsterdam. I knew it, and yet this sight was so foreign to me that I just couldn't process this simple transaction. A few minutes later, my brain still desperately trying to come to grips, one of the guys went off and came back with a pre-packaged carton of joints. There were five of them and six of us. The guys, being well mannered, offered me one of them. My mind still not quite functional, I waved it away and lost my one chance to experience all that Amsterdam has to offer.
It's probably for the best. I don't smoke. I don't like the smell of smoke. I don't like the smell of dope either. And the bar was sufficiently smoky that I didn't really need to have a joint of my own. The simple process of breathing was giving me quite a high. Smoke was everywhere. But still, I feel strangely deprived. I am still a pot virgin and probably will be one until the day I die.
The bar was right in the Red Light District, not on the main strip filled with sex show after sex show, each one trying to come up with unusual ways to draw in more customers than the competing place next door. No, the bar was on the other side of the canal, closer to Centraal Station, amid the cobblestone streets and quaint looking houses that look peaceful and quiet until the red lights turn on.
Yes, there are honest to goodness red lights in the Red Light District. Hundreds of them. Each illuminates a full-length window, a glass pane no more than three feet wide looking in on a small room filled with brightly colored furniture, brightly colored lingerie, and brightly colored faces of posed girls of every size, shape, and color.
They are truly beautiful to behold. I felt like I was in a time warp to the 1960's. The scenes were highly fashionable, all corners and colors and light. The world's best photographer could not have set up better pictures, more visually appealing scenes. As a detached observer I got quite a lot of enjoyment out of the scenery here. I knew the girls were trying to entice clients into their small rooms, that they were prostitutes trying to make a living. But the brightness and clever poses made everything feel surreal, unreal. I didn't feel like I was looking in on the world's most public brothel. I was just enjoying the show.
We made our way over to the main strip to see a sex show. My friend assured my they were really funny and not to be missed. We walked around trying to decide which show to see when we saw some pink elephants gracing the entrance to a club called Casa Rosso. Recognizing it from a previous trip to the district, my friend led us in. We paid 50NGL (about $20 US) for the show or 75NGL (about $30 US) for the show and four drinks. The place was pretty full, and we ended up sitting in the first row.
I'm not going to describe my one and only foray into the world of live sex shows. It was entertaining. It was amusing. It was definitely a show, very theatrical, designed to please. Sex is a commodity in Amsterdam but it's also an artform. Some of the acts were visually beautiful, some hilarious, some just sort of there to fill time. I'd never been to any sort of sex show before and I really enjoyed it. I'm glad I went.
We spent about 45 minutes at the show, then decided to leave. We headed back toward Centraal Station, out of the district. As the red lights started to dwindle, the streets turned from cobblestone to mud. Along the mud-filled streets were some wooden planks to walk on, but even these were muddy. Mud was everywhere. This section is filled with bars, not-as-friendly looking as the one that we started our evening in. These bars looked rough, had rough names. One of them was called the Cock Ring. My friend and I really got a kick out of the name, plastered on a building with no windows, just a door and a brass ring over the sign. Had he been alone I think he might have gone in. But he wasn't and we didn't. I don't know what we would have found inside. Perhaps it's best I don't.
I sit here thinking back on that evening, an evening that even now has a surrealistic glow to it. My overwhelming memory is that of beauty, the abstractness and remoteness of the scenes laid out within the glass-encased diaramas. Sex isn't a dirty word in Amsterdam, and that night I understood why. I'm glad I got my glimpse into that rose-colored world. I recommend this unique experience to any adult visiting Amsterdam.
Recommended:
Yes
Best Suited For: Couples
Best Time to Travel Here: Anytime
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