bloemen en coffeeshops

// flowers and coffee shops

"She's a beauuuutiful flowerrrr" sings an equally beautiful man. He is blessed with great depth of tone and I am greatly blessed to hear it. He is zipping past me on an electric wheelchair, barely avoiding several collisions while his words echo around us along the street. He takes off around the corner still singing and as a few people chuckle good naturedly, my first impression of Amsterdam is formed. Crazy people are part of the charm here, which is lucky because they are in no short supply!

It seemed fitting that my first taste of Amsterdam left me with a quickened heart and involved a beautiful flower. Over a century ago, when Tulip Fever ravaged the Natherlands, fortunes were made and then lost on the tulip marketwhich boomed and then crashed as markets do. The Dutch didn't lose their love for flowers though, as the visually unimpressive but very well stocked flower markets attest. Pushbikes and statues are often decorated with flowers for no apparent purpose. The city is many things, but the three that stand out are the flowers, the weed, and the red lights.

Amsterdam is not a place that does anything half heartedly, except perhaps for making rules. The rules pertaining to soft drugs are notoriously soft themselves, and the city streets are lined with "coffee shops" where alcohol is unavailable and weed, in various forms, sells for about 2‑5 euros a gram. The coffee shops are great hangouts with or without the pot..

The vibrance with which Amsterdam approaches each day is in contrast to the number of potheads that inhabit the place. There is a strong, almost mainstream activist culture. Discussions on the right to free speech are on everyone's lips in the still resounding aftermath of the Dutch newspaper that printed anti Muslim comics. Of course, environmental concerns are high on the list as with everywhere in the western world. Nobody talks much about the sex industry, it seems to be accepted at face value, much like the women winking from their windows. The night time girls pose and wave, some look nervous, most look bored, the best ones make you believe they want you and not your money ‑ according to my observations it's large groups of drunken poms that this works best on. The red light district begins in the street behind my hostel, which puts me in a 'good' part of Amsterdam but not the posh bit. I like it here. There are clothing and shoe shops, the pretty red lights (is it menat to look like Christmas I wonder?!), a good variety of interestingly decorated coffee shops and lots of people all through the day and night. Amsterdam sleeps between the hours of 6 and 10am; at any other hour the streets are busy and safe.

Amsterdam's good points are in most cases also her bad points. Pot is easily accessible but it means that many tourists see little more than the inside of various coffee shops. Mushrooms are also easy to get hold of and while I've had a lot of funny conversations with very happy people who insist that the walls are melting, I've also seen more than one person end up in an Ambulance after taking the 'really strong' ones. The red light district is a great, giggly little outing at night, but the daytime girls are testament to what happens when you don't leave in time ‑ they are older women to whom daylight is not kind and life is even less so. The live sex shows run continuously through the night and are at first surreal, but swiftly become more remniscient of the Melbourne Comedy Festival than of the star‑shaped‑sunglasses‑toting porn industry. The couples (they have to be real couples to be hired) have created routines that tie in with the music so you are treated to some very energetic displays, which are hilarious until you realise that your boyfriend will never, ever be that fit. Hmpf.

My favourite thing about Amsterdam is the canals. Each canal belt has its own personality and the shops I've found along the way have provided delightful window shopping (and occasional purchasing). I have the prettiest dress in the world that I bought from a shop where everything was red. I also have some cool earrrings that I will probably give to Billie because they would look great on her. I found some boots after 2 days of shopping and they are extremely comfortable and warm. I also found a shop full of 60s lamps, a stunning hat shop, several excellent vintage shops (luckily my suitcase is definitely full now) and lots of other little paradises of antiquities and oddities. I have a favourite shopping street that I am studiously avoiding, nestled between two canals near Anne Frank's house.

And of course, between all the flowers and cycles and space cakes, there was time to visit Anne. With three other Perth girls from my hostel, I walked through the Secret Annexe that hid eight people for so long and pretended there weren't tears tapping insistently at my eyelids when I thought of the little girl's hopes for the future, her longing to breathe fresh air (which she finally would, in the concentration camp where she died) and her many plans for her future. It's not the first time on this trip that the extent of my own good luck has been contrasted against the extreme misfortunes of others. It makes me feel obliged to pursue everything I desire with everything I have, given what a head start I've had. You resolve to live your life with inspired abandon when the shadow of your freedom is cast in the light of such heart‑rending courage.

It's been a lovely trip to Amsterdam; I'm no longer feeling so uninspired by western europe, though the adventures awaiting me in eastern europe still beckon.

Tonight I take another overnight bus to Berlin, where by a stroke of luck Chris the London lad is working. He has a twin room at the Grand Hyatt so we're sneaking me in. Free 5 star accommodation is becoming a bit of a habit for me! After Berlin it's off to eastern europe, specific locations yet to be determined.

As I conclude, there is someone posing outside under a sign for "The Cock Ring". For me, Amsterdam will always be cyclists, flowers, canals and, now, cock rings.