Eurotrip: The Amsterdam Diaries

We enjoyed six days in London and two days in Amsterdam. A majority of the trip was spent in London but the amount of subject matter to write about is inversely proportionate because there is not too much to say about London. The culture shock was virtually nonexistent. They drive on the left side of the road, they talk funny, and they use a different currency. They drink better beer and they're very polite. For example, the percentage of girls in pubs who were willing to join us for drinks was much higher than the typical percentage in the States. I don't believe these girls actually wanted to talk to us but were too polite to refuse. One bar in Camden was charging a cover and my friend is trying to haggle the bouncer down. I suggest "How about zero for all three of us?" He replied, "I think you may want to find another bar." He was very polite about it, and this was in Camden! So London isn't much different besides those factors. I could easily live in London. It could serve as a headquarter city while I take little vacations all over Europe.

Amsterdam would not be an easy adjustment. I may come off as critical of the Dutch. I must preface the following with the acknowledgement that I did not see very much of the real Amsterdam. From when we were first dropped off at the Central Train Station, we didn't escape this center of piss, filth, scum, degenerates and Eurotrash until halfway through our second day. In that time, I personally consumed an eighth of mushrooms, a dimebag of Jamaican weed, a shot of very strong absinthe, a dozen or so pints of beer, and three whores. Somewhere during that second day we just started walking away from the sleaze. Away from the Red Light District, the Charlie People, the drugs, the menus in English, the pukes and cheats and thieves and filth and piss. Away from the ever-present feeling of being robbed. We got the fuck out and got lost in the real Amsterdam, where the real Dutch must live. We came upon clean, quiet streets with beautiful still canals and houseboats. More relaxing bars. If more of my time was spent in the real Amsterdam, I may have had a better impression. Now, I've said all that to say this:

The best aspect of Amsterdam is the food. I loved it. Real food in portions sized for humans of normal size. There were no cheeseburgers or fries or ranch dressing or fried food or any overprocessed shit on a plate. Real food is good food. I loved it. However, the service is pathetic. In retrospect, it was pleasantly pathetic because it has made me realize more about myself -- how American I am and how good of a server I am. In Amsterdam, you seat yourself at a dirty table. In five or ten minutes, the server will come over to clean the table and take your order without saying anything. The food is slow. The bill comes slow. You pay slow, and your change is slow. Every lunch takes at least ninety minutes. HURRY THE FUCK UP! I GOT SHIT TO DO! I GOTTA FUCKING GO! And I realized this is one kind of European dynamic. The art of living. Relax. Enjoy the moment. This can be nice I'm sure, but I am simply made of something different. A producer. I am proud that I can work a double running my ass off delivering great service to demanding, fussy, fat Americans. I can throw all the kegs into the cooler fast. And I am proud that after a double I can change clothes and run down to Forest Park to do four sets of stadium steps at the tennis court and four 50 yard sprints on the soccer field before jogging back. I value work. I would have a hard time living among people I consider lazy. I saw a 60 Minutes special once about the French work week. 35 hours / week plus five weeks vacation. That is obscene. An embarrassment. I would lose my optimism, become cynical.

Moving on, I could not get enough water in Amsterdam. I try to drink a gallon of God's nectar every day but these fucking Dutch were playing defense. I ordered tap water everywhere I went, but they wouldn't make it happen. One coffeeshop refused to fill up a bottle I bought there with tap water for me to leave with. This turned out to be a famous coffeeshop one block from the Red Light District (very experienced in abusing and robbing tourists). Looking back, I should have spat on her bar. However, I had just eaten a shitload of magic mushrooms and was in a contemplative mood rather than confrontational. I started to think about this situation and all my international marketing / managment classes and documentaries detailing Europeans' view of Americans. One consistent complaint I remember is that Americans are always asking for the biggest, the best. I had unconsciously been doing this. I asked the bitch at the coffeeshop for the biggest water she sold (which turned out to be a 6 oz. glass bottle for 2 euro). At this bar named Absinth, I ordered three shots of the strongest absinthe on the menu. At the first coffeeshop I bought the most expensive weed they sold, etc. etc. I am an ugly, obnoxious American! Now I want to fit in. So we go for lunch and I order soup (even though it's not on the lunch special) but I want soup so I order what I want without being frugal or seeking value. I also get the same 6 oz. glass bottle of water. The water tastes good and cold from a glass, but I can sweat six ounces on my three block walk to work. But I drink it slow and enjoy it. And I'm wearing Eurostyle clothes I bought in Amsterdam because it's too cold to wear what I brought. And I feel like I'm becoming one of them. (But I'm not.)

Amsterdam is the Vegas of Europe. Their racket is pussy and drugs (drugs instead of gambling). All the Europeans with risk-taking in their blood left for America over the centuries. Hence Vegas = pussy and gambling, Amsterdam = pussy and drugs. Later that day we started walking away from the concentration of tourists. We walk away from this area that embraces filth and found a more civilized Amsterdam which will be where I stay if I ever go back. There are so many other subtleties I noticed and learned from and liked during my Eurotrip, but there's no reason to write these things. They are meant to be brought up in conversation. But I loved going. Next on my agenda are Spain (Barcelona), France (Paris), Italy (Milan and/or Rome).