Day 40: Amsterdam

Sunday, September 22

Hey guess what i woke up to.
    If you guessed "the shithead on the bunk below me making phone calls," congratulations, you've won a vegan soup bone. Come collect it from me as soon as i figure out what a vegan soup bone is, and where to acquire it, and we'll make some vegan soup together.
    The woman on the other lower bunk, across from her, poked her head out from the wall of blankets and towels she'd made to enclose her bed. "Can you take that outside, please?"
    "Yes. Sorry. Sorry," she said, continuing to talk as she made her way to the door. She came back in a moment later, but then her phone rang again. She answered it, and started talking again before going outside. I guess credit to her for actually leaving the room, but like. You also could've done that before you started the conversation.
    I laid in bed a lot longer than i should have. My body wasn't ready to move. Perhaps the last several, more active days catching up with me a little.
    I had to do laundry this morning, regardless. It was almost 10 by the time i actually got out of the bed. I gathered my dirty clothes as quietly as possible, which was basically everything. I went downstairs, found two of the washers available, and loaded one up. I even took the shirt off my back and threw it in, because i'd been wearing that one for two days.
    With my laundry started, i headed down to the common room/bar area to try and catch up on my log while my clothes got clean.
    I was wearing my denim vest with no shirt under it, buttoned up for the first time since i'd bought it, and my swimming trunks, which i have not put on one single time during this trip. I feel it's important to note that my swimsuit features a cat with bandoliers and a Musketeer hat, riding a fire-breathing tyrannosaurus rex, with gyros floating around them, in bisexual lighting, with a rainbow in the background. Also the vest is a women's size, so without a t-shirt underneath, i'm showing an inch or so of midriff.
    Rate my fit.

    I am now walking around in public like this.
    I started looking through yesterday's photos, to write my log, and came across that setup for what looked like a run. Oh shit! I forgot to go to the website and translate it! I can do that now!
    Dam Tot Dam weekend. Four events. I'd already missed the Ribbon Dam to Dam Walk, which was yesterday; this is either a 20, 27, or 42 kilometer walk, starting at the Royal Palace on Dam Square, leading through the center of Amsterdam and the popular Jordaan neighborhood, to the Dam of Zaandam, and finishing at Dam to Dam Park. 42 kilometers is a full marathon. This probably would have been the thing i would most likely have done.
    Then there was the Damloop by Night, an 8 km/5 mile walk in the dark through Zaandam on Saturday evening...
    Oh. Motherfucker.
    If i'd looked this up as soon as i got back to the hostel, as intended, i probably could have still gotten in on that one. That would have been nice.
    Sunday, there's a bike race. I don't have a bicycle with me, so probably not that one. Although, i guess i could rent one from the hostel...available in 40, 60, 90, 110, 160, or 200 kilometer options. I didn't even consider it, though.
    And finally, the NN Dam to Damloop. With 50,000 participants, this is the largest running event in the Netherlands. The main distance is 10 miles. I don't know if i'm in a shape to handle a full marathon right now, but i feel like i could definitely have done 10 miles.
    This event, and this event only, of the four, was sold out.
    Dam to damn it all.
    Wish i'd known about this sooner. When i was planning the trip, i had searched for European marathons. I'd really wanted to run one during the trip. This hadn't come up. Probably because, even though they have the full 42 kilometer course, it's not meant to be a run, rather a walk. I definitely would have done it, though.
    Ugh.
    Next time, i guess.
    When i went to switch my load to the dryer, i paid for it using the central pay station for the laundry room, then turned to the dryer to activate it...and it was not powered on. So i did that, and then tried to select my load, but then it told me to pay for it from the pay station...so i went back to the pay station, which told me that dryer was already in use...
    I went down to the front desk for assistance.
    "I'm having some trouble with the dryer," i said.
    "Which dryer?" she asked.
    "Unit A."
    She clicked around on the computer for a second, then said, "Okay, i've reactivated it. It should be started now, if you want to just go up and double check quick."
    "Oh. Uh, okay," i said, and went to do that. The dryer was, in fact, running now, requiring no further action from me.
    That's...incredible. I was expecting to have to wait for a service person or something.
    We live in the future.
    I wasn't quite done with the log when my clothes were dry, so i did take the time to finish that up. I also really needed to shower today, so i did that too.
    All told, by the time i walked out of the hostel, it was almost 2:30 in the afternoon.
    But, i was clean, and my clothes were clean, so i was happy.
    Although i hadn't eaten anything yet today, and it shows.
    I did a quick search on Maps for bitterballen, determined to try this Dutch treat already. There was a café just a short walk away, called Café ONS, that listed bitterballen on its menu. Perfect! Seven minutes later, i was there.
    The reviews on Google were overall pretty good, 4.5 out of 5 stars, but i did notice a few of the top reviews were much lower, and specifically called out the service as being bad. I don't usually put much stock in it when i see online reviews complaining about service, i think there is a *certain type* of person who will always complain about waitstaff and enjoys berating them and is very loud about it. We have a whole class of memes about these people. Usually, when i see these complaints in online reviews, my lived experience turns out nothing of the sort.
    But oh god were they right, just this one time.
    The outdoor seating along the sidewalk was full, but there was a covered patio where i found an empty table for one, just at the open wall leading into the restaurant. I could see the bar, and the whole interior dining area.
    And i waited. Waited. Waited some more.
    Eventually i caught a waiter's attention, and he brought me a menu. I'd already looked at it outside, so i knew what i wanted, but without a word, he vanished immediately.
    I kept trying to catch his attention from there, but he was always zooming by with his arms full of food or drinks, or returning with full trays of empties. I felt like he passed by me more times than there were other tables on this side of the restaurant. Pretty sure he visited the table across from me, which had a group of eight, at least three times. I do not know how long i waited for him to take my order. He finally made eye contact with me once, and said, "I'll be with you in just a moment," and then zipped past another half dozen times before finally coming to my table.
    "You know what you want?" he asked.
    "Yeah, can i get the bitterballen, the goat cheese sandwich, and a Coke Zero. Also, what is the Chef's Sweet of the day?"
    He said something unintelligible. It sounded Dutch.
    "I'll try that, too," i said, without asking what it was.
    He took my menu, and was gone. A moment later, he was over my other shoulder, and he repeated my order, to make sure it was correct. I couldn't hear him the best, but it sounded right. A moment later, i had my Coke.
    Soon after, the goat cheese sandwich came. Served open-faced with spinach, diced sundried tomatoes, pine nuts, thyme, and honey on fresh brown bread. The goat cheese was a large round slab, right in the middle. I cut it in half, and the melted center of the cheese puck seeped out like lava.
    That sandwich was incredible. The cacophony of flavors coming together in a finely-orchestrated symphony. Mmm.

    I guess i had expected the bitterballen first, if they weren't coming together; it was listed under "snacks" and i thought it would be treated as more of an appetizer. My sandwich was gone, and i'd been sitting there with an empty plate for some time, trying to take it slow on the Coke so i wouldn't need another one.
    When the waiter, who by now i was convinced was the only one working the entire restaurant, came back to grab my plate, i asked, "Is the bitterballen still coming?"
    "Yes, they're cooking it right now. It will just be about...five more minutes," he said, giving me a look like he was trying hard not to betray anything, but i was certain he was realizing in that moment that he had completely forgotten to put in my bitterballen order.
    "Great, no worries," i said. And i waited.
    I was a little worried about the bitterballen. Liz had said she didn't like them, seemed like they might have a bit of a weird texture, i just wanted to try something new. I knew that sandwich was gonna be good, though, so i had hoped to have that to get the taste of bitterballen out of my mouth if it became necessary. If only the timing of dishes had gone the way i'd expected.
    They arrived soon after, eight deep-fried golfballs in a bowl, with a side of mustard. He also brought me a very tiny fork.

    I stabbed the fork into the center ball. The fried breading was a little too tough to get the fork into easily, and i ended up cracking the whole shell of the thing, revealing the beef goo in the middle. Still, i tried to keep it on the fork, but it was just flopping around on there, because there was nothing solid inside to anchor it.
    It burned my tongue, though; these things were definitely fresh out of the deep fryer.
    Flavor was alright though. Kind of like the little fatty bits inside of a good brat. It's just mostly the fatty bits, with a little shredded meat inside.
    I tried to wait for them to cool down, but that goo held the heat like Smeagol hoarding the Precious. I slowly picked at them over a long period of time, just eating them with my hands after the first one.
    I didn't mind them, but they're not the kind of thing that i would seek out again.
    After my bitterballen had been gone for a while, the waiter finally came to take my plate.
    "Ah, are you ready for the check, then?" he asked.
    "I'm still waiting on the Chef's Sweet of the Day," i said.
    "Oh yes, of course," he said, with that same look on his face. "It will be out in just a minute."
    It was a few more minutes. What he returned with was something similar to a miniature cheesecake, with a thick crust, a scoop of chocolate ice cream, and a mound of whipped cream, with cinnamon sprinkled across the top of all of it.

    It was quite good! I'm very happy that i got it. Definitely a better taste to leave the restaurant with than the bitterballen.
    After that was gone, i didn't have to wait too long for him to take the plate. "Okay, i'm ready for the check now," i said.
    "You can pay up at the bar," he said, pointing inside.
    "Ah, okay then," i said, gathering my phone and my camera and going to do that immediately.
    I approached the bar, and the tender already had my ticket ready. She was expecting me. I paid, and she slid me my copy of the receipt plus a mint.
    I took it and went outside, then put the mint in my mouth. Really wish i hadn't, though. The taste of that dessert lingering on my tongue was better, and i should've savored it longer. This mint did not match that flavor at all.
    It was 4:20.
    I'd been in that restaurant for almost two hours.
    You would think that a place that popular and busy would be able to hire additional waitstaff. I don't know how much they're paying that waiter, but he's clearly overworked and stressed to infinity, they should give him a raise. And some coworkers.

Well. What can i do with my day, now? I'd sort of planned on going to the Van Gogh museum. But it closes at 5. Looks like that's off the table.
    I think a lot of things start closing at 5ish around here.
    Alright. What's on Atlas Obscura?
    I took the ferry across the canal and plotted a bit of a course that would take me past several of the little outdoor monuments, or to buildings/businesses i didn't really want to go into, but wanted to see. I planned for the main part of the day to be Red Light Secrets, the Dutch prostitution museum. It seemed like it would be interesting. I'd also be going in the direction of Hortus Botanicus, the Amsterdam botanical garden, which was founded in 1638 to battle the Black Death. This is another of Liz's recommendations.
    I started at the Chet Baker Memorial Relief, a plaque with a bust of the aforementioned jazz trumpeter, who accidentally fell to his death from his second-story hotel room in 1988.
    In't Aepjen is just a block away from that. It's a bar, and one of only two wooden buildings that survived the fire which destroyed the rest of Amsterdam in 1452, which is why the rest of the buildings in the city are brick now. It's been a bar since 1519, when Dutch colonial soldiers would frequently return from the colonies abroad with new pet monkeys. Unable to pay their bar tabs with money, they would turn over the monkeys to the bar as a means to settle their debts. This apparently happened so many times, the bar was soon overrun with monkeys, and customers complained about the fleas. The monkey were given to a regular patron, Gerard Westerman, who kept them in his garden. Westerman's garden would eventually grow into the Artis Zoo, one of the oldest zoos in Europe. The bar is still covered in monkey decorations, from wood carvings to oil paintings to posters, and the name, In't Aepien, translates to, "In the Monkeys."
    Down the street, there's a church called "Our Lord in the Attic," or "Schuilkerk." This is a fully-appointed, miniature Catholic church in the attic of a residential building. The home was built in 1630, but due to the persecution of Catholics in Holland in the 17th century, owner Jan Hartmann converted his attic to a church to have secret mass in 1663. It was turned into a museum in 1888, making it the second oldest museum in Amsterdam, but it's also still a functional church.
    I wasn't able to go in, the building seemed closed. It was also surrounded by construction scaffolding, so i couldn't even get a decent picture of the outside. Not that there's anything special to see there, it's a secret church. The building still just looks like a house.
    Not far from there is Oude Kerk (Our Church), the oldest church in Amsterdam, built in 1306. They were having a service at the time, so i didn't dare to go in, but the church isn't really what i was there for, anyway.
    This is "a place where the sacred and the profane meet," according to the Atlas. In the Oudekerksplein, the church square, there is a statue honoring Amsterdam's sex workers. Her name is Belle, she was unveiled in 2007, and bears the inscription, "Respect sex workers all over the world."

    The church square also includes a metal relief placed in the cobblestones on the ground of a hand grabbing a naked breast, also a nod to the prostitutes.

    This church is right on the edge of Amsterdam's famous Red Light District. There are, in fact, brothels across the street, facing the church directly, including one named "5D Porn." There's also a more formal building called the Prostitute Information Center, which was closed.
    I was pretty close to the Red Light Secrets museum at this point, but they're open until midnight, and daylight was fading, so i thought maybe i'd go see some other things while i still could. Like the botanical garden, hopefully.
    Moving in that direction, i could hit up Amsterdam Oersoep, a covered walkway between buildings that features an aquatic-themed mosaic across its curved ceiling. The name means "primordial sea," and the 4,840 square foot glass mosaic pays tribute to the city's iconic waterways. There's also a large fish head sculpture on one of the walls that seems meant for a photo op. "There are also Art Deco mirrors and chandeliers made from recycled bicycle parts." - I grabbed that quote directly from Atlas Obscura because it's written exactly the way i would have said it anyway.

    I tried to get to Normaal Amsterdams Peil, the Amsterdam Ordnance Datum, from here. This is a spot of great scientific importance that denotes exactly where sea level is. It's like the equator or the prime meridian, but for the z-axis.
    It was within the fenced-off expo area for Dam Tot Dam, which was over, but all the clean-up crews were in there, tearing down the tents. I could not enter.
    I had noted a bit ago that "daylight was fading," but i suddenly realized that process was happening much quicker than it should. Gray clouds were rolling in, and it was cooling off rapidly.
    If i was gonna make the gardens, i better go do it.
    I started moving in that direction with great urgency. Little droplets of water were already beginning to hit my skin.
    Okay, one more stop. It's on the way.
    Biblioteca Ets Haim is the world's oldest continuously-operating Jewish library, founded in 1616 by Sephardic Jews who had immigrated from Spain and Portugal to Holland, for the promise of religious freedom. They'd been forced to live outwardly as Christians in their home country, and needed a space to figure out how to live publicly as Jewish again. The library holds over 30,000 printed works dating as far back as 1484, and 500 manuscripts as old as 1282. Very few of them are publicly available.
    It was closed, but i wasn't planning to go in anyway. This is also a UNESCO heritage site, and despite my recent history, i have no reason to break into this one.
    The precipitation was at a stage now that could verifiably be called "rain." It was still fairly light, but i wasn't happy about having my camera out in it. It's supposed to be water resistant to like 15 meters, but not, like, operable in those conditions. So it's probably not going to hurt it, even if i do get caught in a downpour, but there could still be problems.
    Also, i do not want to be rained on.
    So, now the question. Should i press on to the Hortus Botanicus? It is 0.17 miles from here, i'm so close.
    I'd really hoped the rain would slow down by now. I hoped i could ride it out.
    But no, this isn't going to get any better, is it?
    I should really head back to the hostel before it becomes a storm. The crowds on the streets have already thinned considerably.
    Actually, does this debate even matter? I pulled out my phone and checked Hortus Botanicus's hours.
    Oh, yeah. It closed an hour ago.
    Dumb. I should've checked in the first place.
    I turned around.
    Was i really just gonna go back to the hostel, though?
    Museums are just as out of the rain.
    Fuck it. I'm still gonna do the prostitution museum.
    I was getting really thirsty at this point, though. Like, for water, not for prostitutes. I had forgotten to fill my water bottle before leaving the hostel, and even if i had, it would've been long gone by now and i'd be looking for more. I hadn't seen any place to refill it on my travels today. Man, Paris really spoiled me in this department, with its plentiful public restrooms that have bottle filling stations on the outsides.
    The rain had basically stopped by the time i reached the museum.
    Red Light Secrets is the only place in the red light district where you're technically allowed to take photos. Every other establishment has signs up asking you not to take photos of the prostitutes, to respect their privacy. There are many signs up asking for respect, and i can see why. I did occasionally see people being shitty. I feel like this problem probably used to be much worse. You know, before woke. Which is great. That's not sarcasm. I feel like this still reads as sarcasm, but it's not. The fact that the younger generations are much more into respecting people's autonomy is a huge step forward.
    The description of the museum i saw before going in says that it gives you a look at how a prostitute's day-to-day routine goes, how everything works, to educate people about their lives, and show how the industry is working to prevent human trafficking. "Their goal is to help demystify sex work, and show that sex workers are people who should be treated with dignity and respect."
    The museum building itself used to be a brothel, so much of that structure remains intact. There's also an audio tour, which is largely taken from an interview with a former Russian prostitute named Inga, who worked in this building for 15 years. She's adamant to point out that she thought of herself as more of a "sex therapist."
    The museum tour is much shorter than i expected, but it is informative and fascinating. There are some rooms which are still set up as used to be, to show how that whole thing used to work. There's an exhibit on BDSM, with lots of toys and tools on display. There's plenty of thematically appropriate art throughout the building.
    One room included posters detailing advice given to the prostitutes on how to attract johns, including eye contact, lip licking, and beckoning with the fingers. Another outlined etiquette for johns or other uninvolved people on the proper way to interact with the prostitutes. The brothels in Amsterdam tend to have glass walls and doors on the ground level, where the available sex workers will stand when they're soliciting. Johns can approach the glass, but must be respectful; some of the rules include not tapping on the glass (like an aquarium) and not spitting on the glass, which...i mean. Come on, dudes, what the fuck.
    But most importantly, it is the prostitutes who decide who is allowed to enter the brothel. If a john looks, acts, or otherwise seems untrustworthy, he will not be permitted entry and the police may be called.
    The last bit of the museum before the gift shop and exit was walls covered in handwritten confessions, which i assume were made by previous museum guests. This is to represent the kind of things that johns tell prostitutes, because oh boy, do a lot of men like to talk to women after they've paid them for sex. These confessions get incredibly spicy. People admitting to some pretty dark kinks and fetishes that i've never even heard of or considered physically possible, a number of admissions of bestiality or infidelity, stories of having been assaulted. And then occasionally there are really tame ones, like "i put my finger in my boyfriend's ass and he liked it." Like. Sure, i can see how this might be confusing to you if you're really inexperienced, but your note is posted next to someone who intentionally cuts her clit while shaving, so uh. Uhhh.
    Also, there are, predictably, a few thrown in there that say things like, "everyone on this wall needs to go to therapy," and i find that disrespectful and annoying. Whoever wrote these, you don't seem to understand the spirit of the wall, and you missed the lessons of the entire museum.
    Anyway.
    There's a couple more Atlas Obscura things i can hit up from here. They're not super interesting, they're more like...just checking some boxes, i guess, but i didn't know what else to do. I didn't want to get too far away or too involved in anything, it wasn't exactly late, but there wasn't exactly a lot of day left, and i was running out of energy, anyway.
    As i headed toward the first one, walking along the canal still very much in the red light district, taking videos of all the racy neon signs outside of the establishments (being very careful not to get any workers in these shots; i think the building facades and signage are fine), i noted the variety of debaucherous activities on display. Brothels, obviously; but also sex toy and lingerie shops, weed stores, porn stores, gift shops with like postcards of dicks, bars advertising themed drinks, and live sex shows. What struck me was just how many of these there were, in such a concentrated area. On the one hand, it didn't feel like this much competition in one spot should be sustainable; on the other hand, now that the rain had cleared up, the crowds had returned, and these were the busiest streets of them all, i think.
    Also, i guess, like, Sunset Strip in LA is like this, with its thousand overpriced gift shops selling the same shit. Or Wisconsin Dells. I'm sure they're all doing fine.
    I walked by two guys standing outside a brothel, making lewd gestures at a sex worker on the other side of the glass. She was clearly unimpressed with them. She stared right past them, and locked eyes with me.
    And i did the same thing i always do when an attractive stranger gives me eye contact: i panicked, looked away, and kept walking. Why should things be any different with a prostitute than with any other stranger? There's no stakes here and this person is literally paid to be friendly. I could've at least smiled and/or waved. At the very least, not looked away like i was ashamed and/or disgusted. I hope she didn't take it that way, i certainly didn't mean to offend. I'm just like this with humans nowadays.
    The next few things i saw were pretty mundane. There's Kleine Trippenhuis, the thinnest house in Amsterdam, built into what used to be an alley between two other houses. It measures just under eight feet wide. Facing it across the canal is Trippenhuis, the widest residential house in Amsterdam, a mansion built by a family of arms dealers in 1666. Kleine Trippenhuis is still residential, except for the first floor, which is a sex shop now.
    From there, i went and saw the City Hall Urinal, a brick public urinal built in 1926 which is evidently so pretty, for a urinal, that they officially designated it a National Monument recently.
    Between each of these stops, i had been looking for a convenience store, or anywhere else i could get some water. I wasn't having any luck.
    I headed for the Hash, Marijuana, and Hemp Museum, less than a tenth of a mile from the City Hall Urinal. I stood outside for a moment, wondering if i really had the stamina for another museum, especially without getting some water first. I wasn't sure i did.
    I started walking down the street, hoping to find a drink nearby. There were restaurants, many with soda coolers. I considered it, but i was really hoping to get a much larger water bottle, like a 1.5 liter one. I didn't really want to have to buy several single-serve bottles. I was nowhere near my water goal for the day, i needed a lot, and i felt the dehydration.
    I gave up, and decided to just head back to the hostel. The rain was starting up again, i didn't want to get caught in it if it was gonna get worse. I put the directions in my GPS.
    It led me right back down the main drag of the red light district. I walked past that brothel again. The same sex worker was standing in the window. She saw me. She started tapping on the glass. I looked up, she locked eyes with me again, and made the seductive beckoning motion with her fingers. And i...
    Reacted the exact same way. I looked away, and kept walking.
    Dammit.
    Yeah, that wasn't what i was thirsty for. But i didn't need to be so rude about it.
    Anyway, this is how i overthink literally everything in my life.

I got to the ferry well before it left this time, and was able to get up to the front of the boat this time. Finally, i get to see the approaching shore instead of the receding one. It was nice to experience it both ways.
    It wasn't even eight o'clock. I didn't think i was necessarily in for the night; i'd still need to eat dinner at some point, after all. I went upstairs, dropped off my camera gear, and grabbed the laptop, to head down to the bar to write my log.
    I stopped at the front desk on the way, and extended my trip by another day. I have a few objectives i haven't been able to get to yet, another full day would be great. There were some issues with the computer system, but the clerk seems to have resolved them, and i think i'm good for another day.
    I don't know. I've written the log, it's after 11 now, i don't think i feel like going back out. The fries stand where i got that sausage last night has an Indonesian place next door; i've been told Amsterdam has the best Indonesian food outside of Indonesia (because of colonialism, of course), so maybe i should check that out.
    I'm a little concerned that i may have caught a light sneeze while i was out in the rain today. At least, i'm hoping that's all it is, and that's where it's from.