2nd. Chapter Amsterdam It's morning and we've landed in Amsterdam. Known for the legal use of weed and the Red light district. I'm carrying a forty-pound bag. Which includes just about all the articles of clothes I brought to Europe. While my two companions have small backpacks. They mocked me and even nicked-named the bag, ET. As we wait on line to get cash from the ATM, I noticed the diversity of races in this city. Many white, Pakistanis, black and even oriental. As soon as we step out without saying a word to each other, someone yells out, "American's?" Now, I've always taken pride in not looking like a tourist. Though the forty pound backpack kind of ruins that disguise, but tourists are funny looking, ignorant, and wear clothes that not even the natives wear, furthermore, they take pictures of just about anything. It's just a matter of minutes before we find a hostel to stay at. As soon as we walk in I notice there's a large circular area in which people are smoking weed. Which is good if you like that. My two buddies looked like they were in heaven. They also had free Internet, a bar, pool table, small library and music. It�s a dark place, not much light except for the weed smoking. I liked its integrity. We checked in to our room. No one used the shower, because it smelled like raw sewer. Now mind you, I know it�s not a hotel or a motel for that matter, but any bathroom like that should be considered hazardous. We had been traveling for 2 days hoping to take a shower, but no. We had the shower from hell. We decided we really hadn�t sweated all that much. We�ve been living in the train for the past 2 days. I got to see some of the most beautiful buildings ever. For a town known for prostitution and marijuana, there sure is a lot of history here. The same day I saw this very pretty woman. I kept an eye on her, but did not have the courage to say hi. Our first night we walked around, and my friends bought weed. When they asked the bartender what he had, he pulled out 7 boxes with different types of marijuana. Now, I�m not an expert on the plant, but that is a lot of variation from one kind of thing. We then proceeded to the Red-light district. Now, coming from Miami and seeing prostitutes in the Bay front area, you kind of build a stereotype of what prostitutes look like. Fat, out of shape, dirty, missing teeth, and unattractive. Was I wrong. In Amsterdam these women were stunningly pretty. Easily Playboy bunnies or even models. It was like walking in heaven. There was every selection: black, white, oriental, transsexuals, big, skinny, fit, voluptuous, red hair, blonde, brunette, black hair, young looking, smart looking, naive looking, school girl looking. Well you can get the point. All of these women are sitting in a small room. The room has a large window that is illuminated by a red light, hens the name. I was in awe. Not that I support prostitution or have anything against it, coming from America, it is looked down upon to witness this. Men walking out of this stalls as if nothing happened. Couples looking in through the windows, and even walking out of the peep shows. To be open about sex is really un-American, but then again, so are a lot of things they do here. As we walk out of this area, we find that there are many restaurants & pizza shots around here. I guess they thin that all this temptation will cause hunger. So, we finally land in our beds. We really had not slept much on the train, because we did not want to miss out on our stops. As soon as we settle into our sheets we meet our forth room mate. Our Australian roommate had a problem containing his gas during his sleep. I'm seriously talking here, but there must be something wrong if you fart every three minutes. In no way am I exaggerating. You could get a stopwatch and time it. It was rather disturbing hearing it. At least they did not smell. Morning came and my mates and I rapidly split up. They wanted to smoke and I wanted to go sight seeing. What seemed like a 3 days stay turned into a week stay. On the forth day I decided to go to the Van Gogh Museum. So, I got on the metro and headed northeast. The best way to go sight seeing is to get lost. He the things the average tourist doesn�t see. I got of the train in front of a park and walked around. Wow! This park was amazing pretty. Open space all around, a big artistic fountain, and a castle at the entrance. I noticed a native playing basketball. He spoke English, which made the conversation a lot easier. He was from the northern part of Holland and had just moved to Amsterdam not too long ago. He wasn�t all that good at basketball and admitted to it. I was a decent player back in my playground days. As we are shooting hoops two Koreans come in asking if we can get a two on two in English. It was the native and I against the Koreans in a 15-point pick up game of basketball. It was originally set for 11, but the Koreans wanted a chance to come back. I really hadn't played in about a year, and the weather was cold. Not to make excuses, but playing in cold weather makes it hard to breathe. To make a story short, we ended up whipping the Koreans 15 to 7. It was a good game and it helped release some of the stress. After the game I placed my headphones and took pictures of the park and various objects. What I didn't know was that the park was right next to the museum. Then in a small way it hit me. Shit, I'm living many� s dream. "Looking at the world through eyes that have never seen. Many colors and things, No limit on the time, Just pick up my pace and cover all land, Remember the sky? It looks different from this side, And all the books that give highlights, Are not the same when you stand there...live feed. And ready to realize a dream, close my eyes, picture perfect, a memory for the times. No regrets, living life at my pace. Headphones on, and no second-guess. Train to train, city-to-city, Dream to dream. No melting ice cream. Just me and many' s dream. To travel around the world with my feet, living the dream." I never knew Van Gogh was so talented. I mean, you get sense of why he is famous, and hear it through other people and see it through books, but you don't really know why until you see most of his work face to face. The oriental paintings he did are amazing, the sketches, the way he painted the towns and landscapes. It was mesmerizing. I placed on my headphones and decided to see every sketch. I had the slower symphony- like songs from U2. Miss Sarajevo was playing and it did the event justice. Through Van Gogh I got to see his world. What do I mean by that? I got to see his moods, his intelligence, the world around him and god was I ever thankful for getting up my high to coming to see this. I spent about five hours in this nirvana. It was spent well. After the museum I took the wrong train back. Knowing that all trains come back to the main train station, I decided to be adventurous. I got to see the University and the normal city. It was nice and laid back. I even saw The Hard Rock Cafe. Which I thought was neat. On my way back I encountered the pretty woman again. This time I thought to myself, "you're never going to see her again, minus well take a shot." So, I walked up to her and introduced myself. Her name was Paola and she was from Argentina. Which was neat. We ended up spending most of the day together. We talked about music, and politics, cities we've visited and why she had come to Europe. She wanted to surprise her boyfriend in Italy. See, she had been dating this guy for about three months, and she had fallen in love with him. I think it is romantic. She had taken a chance, backpacked half a world to come see him by herself. Now, that takes a lot of courage. He had yet to know and she hoped the trip would have showed him her determination and affection for him. Though I think there was an attraction she had her boyfriend and I was not going to mess with that. I had come here for the same reason, and would have been the indiscretion of a beautiful encounter between two people. Instead, we agreed that if it didn't workout between her and her boyfriend, she was going to come to Barcelona and spend New Years with me. I liked her attitude; she was spontaneous and full of energy. After a couple of drinks and exchanging romantic stories, we played 9 games of pool and ended up winning all of them in a row. We went 9 and 0. Which in Pool Double I think is a record of some sort. After that I walked her to the train station, and off she went to follow her heart. Later on that evening I walked around the Redlight district. These women were just a sin to look at. Temptation lurked everywhere. One caught my eyes though. She wasn't lustful of had big breasts or anything. She looked like the girl next door (The role model girlfriend). Brown wavy hair, brown eyes, 5'10, fit body, a C cup, and she looked great on jeans and a shirt. Which is my weakness. Any woman that looks amazing in jeans and a shirt looks good in just about anything. We talked the basic monetary exchange. She said I could pay now or when we were done. I decided to get the uncomfortable part out of the way first. I asked her how long she had been doing this. She replied, " 5 years." I proceeded to make small talk as I took off my clothes. I can cum only once, it doesn't matter if it's during oral or penetration. There is also the time limit factor and one cannot lick or kiss. "I will suck you now, OK?" As soon as she said that it reminded me of the way we mock oriental prostitutes, "I love you long time." However, I kept the laughter inside and proceeded with the deed. In the middle I asked her what position she'd prefer. She said that it was about what I wanted, not how she liked it. I told her that the experience involved both and that it would please me more to please her. As I was finishing, U2' s 'Beautiful Day' came on the radio. Now this song is basically the theme to my trip. So I tell her it's funny, that this song comes up, because from now on, every time I hear it, it will remind me of this night. She smiled and told me she hoped it would be a good memory. I rinsed my face and hands, and told her she lived in an interesting city. She responded by telling me that she did not like it. She says the language is just distasteful, and that she and her friends talk English most of the time. She took a liking to me. Forty minutes had passed and she had not in any way hinted at the time. We said good-bye and she kissed me in the lips, which I thought to be unusual, but enjoyable. She was a lovely woman with a good heart just the wrong profession. Separation of the soul, for a split second there's no one home, just a body and a bone, with your soul looking from above, They call it lust with desperation, you call it a job with no inspiration, is it fun? There's no one home, just yourself and your thoughts, does your skin crawl, chameleon in your sky, are you surprised? when he turns out to be nice, and from the sky your soul starts to crash, noble and sophistication, he looks to you as a romantic connection, you can't help it, it's a feeling you tend to deny, some one so sincere, so beautiful inside, close your eyes and imagine what's inside. The next day was my last. I felt I had been here long enough. I was playing it safe by staying with my friends and not going on my own. I had it with the standstill this place was providing. All we did was hang out and waste time. So Howard (the guy who came up with the idea to go on this trip) and I went out to the nearest most expensive looking restaurant with jeans, a shirt, tennis and jacket. It felt awkward, but it was fun. Everyone looked at use strangely, though I just think its because they had a suit and tie. I had the roasted duck and some type of baked pastry. It was unpleasant to say the least. The duck taste like some one got a Zippo and placed it under. Mind you I had an unpleasant feeling to begin with because of the fact that I had just ordered duck. Something I have no recollection of eating before. However, I came here to experience the culture and if that is what this people eat so be it. The desert however was quite the opposite. It was carrot cake with cranberry sauce. Morning came and I decided to take a walk towards the other direction. The eastern part if you�re facing outside the train station. This section if full of commerce and food stands. For once I can see what Dutch people do. I walked the streets heard no one. It was interesting to see porno shops with their merchandise out in the open. This place asides for being known for smoking weed, prostitution, it is also known for it�s porn industry. Since 1992 around there, a fellow classmate of mine, Christy Austin was heavily into U2. I had an enormous crush on her. Almost every guy had a crush on her in that class. At that time U2 had come out with Achtung Baby and where on tour (The best tour the 90�s ever saw). So to try to have something in common with her I started to listen to U2. Well to say the least I fell in love with the band. Just about every song they wrong about I could relate too. Which leads me to belief they are the best band in the world (sarcastically speaking). However, U2 had just come out with the Beautiful Day video not too long ago. In this video Bono (the lead singer of the band) takes a bite of a green apple and is in ecstasy. So I, being the complete Bono wannabe, bought 2 green apples and walked around in my own tour. Across the street from the corner fruit market I spotted a caf� called The Doors, which I thought was cool. So I took a picture of it for the people back in Miami. Good I love days like these. The sun was out but was to no effect. You can walk for miles and feel like it�s all been five minutes. As I walk past a cheese shop I decide to go back and buy cheese. God, they had a lot of cheese in this store. They had about 100 different types of cheeses. Not to say that all cheeses are good for you or even taste good, but lord that was a lot of cheese. I bought three different types of cheeses. I can�t really remember their names, but they were delicious. As I walk around and take pictures of the lovely architecture I think to myself,� I have traveled through an Ocean and a continent to find the answer that in some way will determine the outcome of my life.� Intriguing is the anguish I�m suffering. What if I�m wrong by doing this. I really haven�t thought about it. What if I disturb what was meant to be, just a moment in time. Through the relentless over thinking I decided to dip myself in more misery. I decided to see the Anne Frank Museum. On the way back to the hostel I decided to ask my friends if they wanted to come. To my surprise they were getting high and said that going to her house would bring down their high. So on the way down I see this very pretty, blonde hair, green eyed girl. Her name was Michelle and she lived in London though she was American. She had wanted to visit the Frank Museum and so did I, so we went together. She worked illegally as a bartender. The Anne Frank Museum was just amazing and very sad. Though I can say this, the pictures and the stories of the attic do it no justice. That place is pretty big. They make it sound like a 15 square feet apartment. Either way, Michelle was a sweet girl. Attractive and a sports fanatic, I wish I had met her earlier. She was about 5'6, 113, dirty blonde hair, tanned skin color, green eyes and a warm smile. Like a gentleman I walked her to the train station and got her email. Though I never did email her. My train left in the afternoon so I had a bit of time to kill. I took pictures of the people I met in the hostel and parted ways with my fellow travelers.
Copyright © 2002 Roberto J Moreno |