We enjoyed an interesting breakfast of mixed cereal (literally, they'd mixed different cereals into one bowl. There was also, as one of the South Africans described, "mystery meat and mystery cheese" to enjoy with the "mystery cereal" on bread rolls or rye bread. To complete the meal, we could have hard boiled eggs in the whitest shell you've ever seen.
To get us in the mood for Amsterdam, our bus sound system played songs like "Because I Got High" and "Let's Talk About Sex Baby." Jen told us about an additional excursion that we can do in Amsterdam in the form of a Live Sex Show, which is apparently everything it promises to be for a whole hour. It's just very expensive, as things involving actual sex tend to be.
Still, it seems like most of our tour group are planning to go. Even those that complained about New Years being too expensive for them. In fact, I'd only spoken to one girl that wasn't sure if she'd be going or not, despite the fact that her mom had encouraged her to. It surprised me because she's such a party animal that I would've pegged her as the last person to feel awkward about something like that.
Well, thanks to our very expensive stop in St. Goar (for me, anyway), I don't have that much cash to flash anymore, so it's looking like our stay in Amsterdam is going to be a fairly mild one for me. Nicole asked John if he thought a Live Sex Show was worth the expense, to which he replied "it was not really a highlight of my stay there. It's kind of awkward. We sent a friend onto stage to get spanked by a bondage chick, which was funny, but otherwise no."
While our stop in the city may be limited due to our dwindling funds, everyone else was planning to live it up. Besides the Live Sex Show, Red Light District, and the legalised sale of marijuana, some Aussies were planning to hire an expensive sports car, which they planned to drive to Germany and take a wild spin on the Autobahn (which has no speed limit).
John is so excited that we'll be in Amsterdam that he keeps messaging Nicole with suggestions of things that he does recommend we do. He is desperate for us to go check out the place he used to live, but Nicole couldn't be less interested. One thing we will be trying is a noodle places that he reckons is the best ever called Wok to Walk. Nicole joked that we should take a photo of our lunch outside his door to please him.
He also suggested a place to try better weed than the places that tour guides normally recommend. Whether or not we do is going to depend very heavily on what it costs. If I did, I'd decided that it would be in an edible form since I'm quite sick of breathing in smoke at this point of our trip. Jen, though, advised against eating the brownies for those that are inexperienced, since it's hard to tell that you've had too much until it's too late.
For that reason, I wasn't sure if I'd bother with it at all. If I did, though, it would definitely be the very last time I ever try the drug, since the two previous experiences I've had with it have been highly overrated, and if this proved to be as disappointing, it will be the last time I ever waste money on it.
The first famous thing we would experience in Amsterdam would not be drugs or sex, however. It would be cheese and clogs. A Dutch guy, who turned out to be every bit as good looking as Jen had promised he'd be, explained to us how cheese is made and then actually made a clog for us before our very eyes! Afterwards, we were invited to taste the cheese that they had available for sale.
Due to my dwindling funds and the fact that I have probably already exceeded the weight limit for my suitcase, I didn't buy any cheese to take home. We have great cheese back home, anyway. I did get a lot of photos, though. There was a giant clog outside the store that we could sit inside and have our photograph taken in. That's as close as I came to taking a clog home with me.
The landscape in Holland was the least visually impressing of anywhere that we'd been so far. It is very, very flat, with canals along the side of the road and branching up into farms like a grid. The architecture, on the other hand, is pretty interesting. The houses are all squashed together, being a few stories high, but very narrow. Apparently, they can't even get furniture up their narrow stairs, so there are pulleys built onto each house to get stuff in and out through the windows!
Our hotel was a bit like a youth hostel. Our rooms were far, far away down some super long corridors, much like the Royal National Hotel in London. Our room, oddly, had two bunk beds in it, which was kind of strange, but Nicole was thrilled that the two extra beds meant two extra pillows for each of us. She kept smacking her head on the bunk above her, though, which I found a lot funnier than she did.
In the foyer, there was a vending machine that dispensed electronic goodies, like USB drives and phone chargers. There was also a smoking room that was amusingly called "The Dutch Oven." Dinner was a buffet again, served in the cafeteria-style restaurant of the hotel. We dined on chicken, chips, and over-cooked veggies, rounded off with melty ice-cream. It sounds worse than it was, though. We've definitely had worse food on this trip.
After that, we hit the town, which I'm going to let Nicole tell you about. Before I hand over to her, though, I should just say that, besides the language (to a point, since Flemish is actually more similar to Afrikaans than Dutch is), the Afrikaaners actually don't have anything in common with the Dutch at all. Maybe there was a time, but it certainly isn't true today. They don't look the same, eat the same things, have the same style, or think the same way (can you see Afrikaans people legalising sex and drugs? Not a chance!)
Anyway, I'll let Nicole take it from here, since she's so keen to fill you in on our Amsterdam adventure!
Actually, Vicky doesn't have much positivity after that point. After dinner, the group was getting ready to go to a live sex show. We formed part of a small group that opted not to waste money on an awkward experience (we made double sure with john, who lived in Amsterdam, that it was worth a miss). We all headed off to our meeting spot (where the bus would fetch everyone later), then proceeded to follow Jen through the red light district so we could get a peek. We walked down skinny ally (the name is given to the section of the red light district where only skinny prostitutes may practice) where we got the opportunity to see the statue of Bell, the patron saint of the prostitutes.
Our small group of people left behind decided to go to the ice bar (which had a bar made of solid ice),which was unfortunately full so we were turned away. We then decided to check out Amsterdam's famous Grasshopper bar (famous for its multiple levels serving various kinds of weed). Vicky and I agreed with the mentality of " when in Amsterdam", but were annoyed and confused when the our companions went in and started to rant about the weed they were being exposed to. They bought drinks, and proceeded to head for the seats outside in the cold and rain (away from the smoke) to continue their disdainful rant about Amsterdam's disappointments i.e. the prostitutes and narcotics (at this point we were bored to tears).
We politely excused ourselves from what Vicky very amusingly called "the prudy bunch", and headed of to have our own adventure. We headed off to the super market to get coldrinks, then poked around a souvenir shop full of amusing sex-themed trinkets, followed by a very slow meander back to the meeting point. We were shortly joined by the rest since the bus would be arriving soon to pick us up. After 30 minutes, one of our companions got an sms that the bus was not coming to get us. Regretfully, our less than exciting evening ended with us being forced to spend money on a taxi back to our hotel.
When we finally got back to our we did some washing (thank goodness I'm the genius that brought OMO washing powder), repacked our bags and climbed into bed. I was ready to say good riddance to a bad night, but Vicky had other ideas. She decided it was time for her to rant about our disappointing evening. I told her she was anti-high, for someone in Amsterdam, since she was being anything but mellow and giggly. I humoured her for a bit but at midnight i had to firmly tell her that I was tired and was going to sleep. Finally! So glad this day is behind us!
(Side note: No one had anything good to say about the live sex show. It turned out that their evening was just as disappointing as ours. We spent less money, at least. That was one redeeming factor of the evening.)
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