Amsterdam part 5

Ryan wanted to take me to the Red Light District after his birthday. He went there on his birthday, but said he only looked around – he wasn’t a customer. This seemed a little hard to believe until I went there myself. In the daytime, it’s just like any other residential neighborhood, except there are strip clubs and stores selling porn and sex toys. In the middle of it all is the oldest church in Amsterdam.

What I didn’t like were the signs on some of the clubs. More than a few of them were pretty graphic. These signs are right on the street. At least the sex museum is indoors, in a controlled environment. You have to pay to get in and children aren’t allowed. The very graphic strip club signs are out in public where anyone can see them. Children and little old ladies walk by the clubs on their way to school and wherever little old ladies go. They’re probably used to it, but I can’t imagine seeing anything like this in Minnesota. We had laws against liquor stores being close to schools.

The Red Light District takes on a completely different atmosphere at night. All the customers come out and all the windows light up with red light bulbs. In each window is a girl in a bikini or lingerie waiting for her next customer. It seemed pretty degrading to me. The girls were like products for sale on display. But maybe it’s safer than hookers walking the streets. The neighborhood was also a lot more crowded at night. During the day, people were going about their business. At night, people – mostly men – gawked and lingered. We watched one guy pace back and forth, getting up the courage to go into one of the red rooms.

At first glace, it looks like there are more bars in the Red Light District than anywhere else. Ryan wanted to go to Molly Malone’s Irish Pub because he thinks my family is Irish. I keep telling him my ancestors were Highland Scottish, but he always forgets. He can’t tell the difference between Irish and Scottish, and don’t even get him started on Wales. If we ever go to the UK, he’ll probably start an international incident. Instead of Molly Malone’s, we went to a bar that had loads of Dutch, Belgian and German beer. I don’t usually like beer, but if you’re going to drink it, this was the place. European beer is thicker and makes American beer seem watered down. According to some Europeans, American beer tastes like horse piss. We can only wonder how they know.


Just another street by day
Prostitutes around every corner by night

Out in the open for all to see on a busy canal street

Oude Kerk
The oldest church in Amsterdam