Take in the famed coffee shops and enjoy locally sold marijuana. Then, try the true Amsterdam experience as you dodge traffic, terrified, or just enjoy a drink.
After checking into the Hotel Prinsenhof (central location, good price, friendly albeit sarcastic staff, nice rooms - 4stars), we said what they all say in Amsterdam after checking in:
"Well, might as well get high."
I took in the city for the first time as we searched for a coffee shop.
The trams clanging by and the various cultures all wandering around, buying tulip bulbs.
The cobbly streets and tall buildings, shoulder-to-shoulder.
It's a tourist-trap that vehemently fights back, through artistry, through heritage.
I breathed all of this as I held up traffic, and exhaling I said, "Might as well get high. Where's the weed at?"
Soon, we found 'The Dolphin' which is now my official coffee shop of Amsterdam. I have no idea why. I suppose because it was the first we went into.
Fake coral screwed into the walls, the space seemed very tranquil and inviting as some guy impatiently tried to rent a bong.
We greeted the fellow behind the bar, who was from...somewhere. Who knows?
I asked him if the place belonged to him as he fixed our mint teas and I lit up.
No, he wished. It belonged to his brother. It was weird, how he said it. He made it sound as though his brother kept all the profits while making he himself sleep on a cot in the back or something.
The response was like, "No, I wish. It's my brother's, who is sadly still alive."
Anyway, we got high in a real hurry and then kinda sat around.
Andie immediately felt as though it was appropriate to leave, be it through the door or the wall, but I wanted to sip my mint tea and kinda enjoy her discomfort for a minute.
It was real mint tea!
It was hot water with sprigs of mint in it. When else would I be drinking something like that? Someone probably harvested it that day. Good lord.
Our mint comes from plastic packages, and when we open them the mint says, "Where in the hell am I? It's freezing here," and that's the last of the mintiness. When the mint asks the question, you smell a bit of mint and then all of the flavour leaves the plant forever.
Fresh mint tea, let's take our time.
Anyway, I finished torturing Andie and we booked it.
Suddenly the previously extremely busy street just up the way now seemed extra extremely full and uninviting, so we said, "Fuck this," and started walking in the opposite direction.
We encountered a large truck and crane that frightened us, but otherwise the path was relatively unpopulated.
Good, this is good. Let's keep going.
We held hands, knuckle-white, from the moment we left The Dolphin until about an hour or so later, by the way.
We had spent the past day and a half getting in everyone's path. We had already been constantly halting and correcting one another, for our safety.
Now, the city seemed to come at us from all directions, and we were nothing if not startled.
So, we held hands, and we'd tug in this direction or that direction to dodge oncoming people, and we'd pull taught for a full halt, like coaxing a horse around.
We both did this without discussing the tactic beforehand, and it really made me feel like I was walking with my future wife while high in some place I'd never been.
We desperately wanted a map then, just to get our bearings, I guess. I don't know why.
To decide on where we wanted to go, maybe. I suppose that's why anyone wants a map.
Anyway, Andie volunteered to pick one up for us by going into some bulk store or something.
She wandered in there while I thought of stuff to write down, searching for a pen.
Minutes later she returned with a chocolate bar neither of us had tried before, and that was it.
Though she did mention that she saw the "tiniest pineapple" inside, and she had been really tempted to buy it, so she could bring it home and name it, I guess.
She doesn't even like pineapple.
No map. We kept walking/directing.
Later, we passed a nice-looking hotel with one of those revolving doors.
Bound to be maps in there, we knew, so Andie again volunteered to get us one.
I should mention that the entire time we were in Amsterdam, Andie wore the very chic 'incognito in Amsterdam' look, sporting sunglasses and a long trench coat. She was as conpicuous as a person could be in a place like this.
So I said, "You got this? You're doing the talking?"
Yup, sure. Let's go.
We started revolving, and as we circled to the entrance she just said, "Can't do it. Can't do it," and kept pushing the door.
Then we were back outside.
I don't know how we got there, and suddenly we were there, and there were people and bicycles and cars and scooters just...intersecting...in front of us. It was mesmerizing.
"We're never getting out of here" I thought as I stared at this unending flow of traffic that should have made sense, but it definitely did not.
I don't know how we got out of there, but soon we found a tourist shop. Maps!
Also, I felt I really had to purchase a pen and start writing some of this stuff down because what was happening to us was amazing, wasn't it?
This place had a very animated middle-eastern fellow behind the counter.
I eyed the pens, first landing on some bics with windmills stuck on top of them. I was about to pick one up when I realized that a windmill pen might poke me in the scrotum, so I looked on to see nudey pens just next to these.
Perfect! Sexy place, nudey pen. Sexy lady to look at while I write, what could be better?
So, I take the pen and approach the counter and wait for some kids to buy candy.
While doing so, I think of what I'm going to say to the guy to sound like a tourist but a traveller at the same time.
I landed on "One nudey pen, please," as I laid it on the counter.
Genius.
"Oh, okay. Have to love the guys too, I suppose," he replied and I didn't know what in the fuck he was talking about, so I just said, "Yeah. Yeah buddy."
It wasn't until I next went to write something down that I realized I had bought a nudey pen with a guy on it.
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