Today we left for Amsterdam and we should arrive there in a few hours from writing this. We took the coach to Dover and got on the ferry there. Dover is where, you guessed it, the famous White Cliffs of Dover are.
Once we got across the English Channel we arrived in Calais, in Northern France. We then hopped back on the coach and drove through Belgium. Flip told us there were two optional tours while in Amsterdam: the first was a canal ride and the second, which wasn't on the website, was a trip to the local sex-threatre.
In Amsterdam, sex-shows, prostitution and marijuana are all legal and socially acceptable. I don't feel right smoking weed or buying a prostitute -- which are two things my mother and girlfriend wouldn't be happy with me for doing, respectively -- so I just decided to go to the sex-theatre. But, since it's illegal to take pictures in the Red Light District and during the sex-show, to respect people's privacy, you'll just have to take my word on it that I actually went.
They have a custom on mainland Europe that I really like. To use the toilet (or, "toiletten" in Dutch), you must pay €0.30 ($0.38). This little bit of money is a tip to the janitor for their hard work. Much like tipping taxi-drivers in London, tipping washroom janitors is a must (actually, they won't let you use the washroom otherwise so it really is a must).
We're about an hour from Amsterdam and Flip is telling us about the Netherlands and Holland, like what to eat (eg: French fries dipped in mayonnaise instead of ketchup, or "kipkroket" which is miscellaneous deep-fried meat), what to drink, why most of the houses are tall and narrow (and sometimes very crooked) and how people in Amsterdam speak even better English than her (she's from Australia). She also warned us of a "beautiful blonde woman" that would invite people into a bar for a drink. After a few drinks, she would demand you buy drinks for everyone in the house -- which can lead you to spending over €8,000 ($10,400). Flip never explained what the woman's motives were, but I think perhaps the woman works for the bar.
Tomorrow morning we get to go shopping and I plan to go to the Anne Frank House. Tomorrow afternoon we leave for the Rhine Valley in Germany.
From our stop at a road-side food store, I discovered the Dutch are a very friendly group of people -- a lot more than the Brits! Maybe that's because of the weed, but I'd like to think the country of my forefathers is a very welcoming country (and it doesn't hurt that I'm Canadian).
PS: Flip said that along with weed, mushrooms are legal in Amsterdam too. However, I think I'll pass on those as well, even though she encourages people to use them because "you'll never experience it risk-free again".
PPS: Flip also says that if you get caught taking pictures of the "women of the night", they will summon a police-man or guard who will quickly arrive, catch you, smash your camera and toss you into the canal. I wouldn't mind being thrown into a canal, but after all the hassle my camera has given me, the last thing I want to do is have it smashed to bits.
After we arrived at the Hotel Nieuw Slotania and found our rooms, we were served an excellent buffet. I had pasta, salad, French fries (or "chips" in Europe; North American chips are called "crisps") and deep-fried chicken. I tried mayo with my fries today and they were pretty good! Although mayo isn't the healthiest of things to eat, Dutch people are the tallest in the world, so mayo can't be all that bad for you.
After supper, we went for our canal cruise. Amsterdam is beautiful at night! The shop lights glimmer on the water and it's stunning to see! Unfortunately, there was an open bar on the cruise ship and I used it a couple of times, so none of my pictures really turned out.
We had the option of red or white wine and I chose red. I'm not a wine drinker but Mark -- the guy I met in the elevator back in London -- took red wine and he told me earlier that he was a wine collector back home. I thought the wine was mediocre, but Mark said it was excellent. After my episode with Guinness in London, I'm starting to think that maybe alcohol and I just don't mix.
Before I discuss what I saw in the Red Light District, let me give you a brief history lesson:
The sex-trade is very popular in Eastern Europe. People from the east would come to the west and kidnap beautiful women and take her back to their country where she wouldn't speak the language and couldn't get help. Then, the kidnappers would sell her to the highest bidder and she'd be gone forever. The Netherlands are the half-way point between Eastern and Western Europe and Amsterdam is a capital of it, as well as the capital of the sex-trade. Or, at least, it was. Amsterdam legalized prostitution and offers medical-care and a decent wage for female and male "service people". Flip told us a story about a girl she once met that sat in a window of the Red Light District in a school-girl outfit while working on a laptop computer. Flip asked her if she was an escort or a student and it turned out she was both! She was using her working time to study and paid for her tuition and living allowance with the money she made through her, um, "study breaks". Amsterdam's Red Light District has drastically slowed the sex-trade and has, in a sense, won European women back some dignity.
Once we entered the Red Light District (the red lights mean a woman is available while the blue lights mean she's occupied) we saw many windows of scantily dressed women preening and flirting with the men who strolled past. I saw a few women get "purchased" and a few change their blue lights to red as men left their rooms. There were also many erotic stores in that area of town.
We finished our walk through the Red Light District and went to the sex-show at the Theatre Casa Rosso. We watched several "acts", some solo and some with partners, but all on a rotating table in front of a generic movie-theater.
The show did dehumanize sex, but before the show began we were told that all the couples performing not only knew each other, but were married! Twice during the show a solo artist called up a member from my tour group to help them with their act. Once on stage -- I learned later -- the performer informed the tour group member that they wouldn't have to actually touch anything inappropriate.
The final act was one where members of our tour group were selected to participate. The solo artist was a scantily dressed Hawaiian dancer. After scanning the crowd her eyes fell on me and asked me to join her on stage.
I declined. I didn't think my girlfriend would approve of me being at a sex-show, let alone being a part of it!
The solo artist chose five other people from the audience to join her. Once she got them onto the stage, she left for a few moments and returned, nude, with a banana. She then lied on the ground, placed the partly unpeeled banana into her vagina and got the chosen five to eat it. Although everything was clean and sanitized, I was very glad I didn't participate in that!
After the banana was finished, a person in a gorilla outfit with a very large, erect (obviously fake) penis came on stage. The gorilla flirted with the Hawaiian woman and the chosen five, walked to the edge of the stage and fired water (although it didn't seem like water!) from its phallus.
After making sure I got nothing on me, I looked back up at the stage to see the gorilla take off its fake mask and was stunned to see it was our female tour guide Flip!
After the show, we went for another walk through the Red Light District, this time through "Skinny Ally", which was not only a very narrow ally, but also contained very thin women wearing basically nothing at all.
Then we were shown the coffee shops, bars and cafes in the area. You don't buy coffee at a coffee shop, we were told. Instead, that's where you buy weed or space-cakes (which we were told to only eat half of, and then save the other half for later). If you want coffee, you are supposed to go to a cafe, and if you want alcohol you are to go to a bar.
Flip said we were on our own to get back to the hotel, but that she would be at a bar all night and if somebody was too drunk (many people were very drunk by then) to find our way home, she would take them back to the hotel later that night.
I decided I had had enough of the Amsterdam nightlife after that. Three other people (Kristi, Pam and Daisuke) and myself took a taxi back. It came to €18.20 and I gave the cab driver the change as a tip along with my best attempt at Dutch, "Dank u well" which means "Thank you very much."
Dutch is very similar to English and I wish I had more time to practice it. The phrases I know so far are:
When I started my blog, I wanted a place to tell stories. I wanted a place where I could keep memories and show them off for people later. My earliest entries on my blog are from 2011 (published in 2014), right after my trip to Europe. They're messy, they lack detail, and they are full of inaccuracies. Not the mention the wretched photography.
So, there's only been a slight improvement since then. Hahahahaha.
Four years later, my blog has become my hobby, my joy, my escape and my work. I spend hours writing content for my blog. I spend hours editing pictures, researching details, and adjusting content for SEO (search engine optimization). It's a full-time gig, and just the other day I published my 200th article. After 200 times of doing something, you'd think the articles would get easier, but they really don't. Each one is unique unto itself, and each one is a special time in my life that I shared with my readers.
About a year and a half ago I visited Kyiv, Ukraine. As I walked down the millennium old streets and gawked at the towering cathedrals, I saw the beginnings of a new country, one that was slowly rebuilding from a much darker time. The process of what I was seeing had a name. It was called decommunization.
Decommunization includes renaming architecture, changing laws and protocols, and even tearing down monuments. People's Friendship Arch in Kyiv, for example, which symbolised the friendship between the Communist East and the Capitalist West, was torn down. Some statues, like war memorials, are exempt, but there is still talk of making modifications to them. Anywhere you go throughout the former Soviet Union, the hammer and sickle are being removed – not from history, but from modern society.
Part 12 of my cross Canada series takes us to the smallest province in Canada, Prince Edward Island. However, don't let the name confuse you: PEI is actually 232 islands!
PEI also happens to have smallest population of any province in Canada, with only 146,300 people as of 2014. This means this province has less people than my hometown Regina!
Being so small, however, it was difficult to find images on Instagram. That isn't to say there's nothing there worth seeing! Quiet the quandary, actually. PEI has a few very unique locations that drive their tourism. One of them is the gorgeous themed village of Avonlea, named after the village in the hit novel "Anne of Green Gables" published in 1908. This story, and the subsequent stories, follows Anne, a red-haired "fiery" orphan who grows up on PEI. The story is an international bestseller, and is strangely very popular in Japan (or so I've been told)!