Clinging bicycle bells welcomed us as we stepped out of Amsterdam’s Centraal Station into the cool late night air. The streets were buzzing with mingling tourists, smart cars and blue and white trams that roll down the centre of the main streets. An intimate network of small streets can be walked from one side to the other in 30 minutes. Carefully, of course, as there are 600,000 bicycles to contend with along the way. Webbed with weathered bridges and houseboat-lined canals, Amsterdam is a quaintly exotic oasis of culture. It is not only a city, but a way of life.
After a quick stop in St. Christopher’s Inn The Winston on Warmoestraat, our hostel and home for the weekend, we set out to explore our surroundings in the Red Light District. I felt a bit sad for the women dancing under the glow of seductive lights in large windows, on main streets and in alleyways, but maybe that’s just the feminist in me because they seemed to be enjoying themselves.
Fat City, now a pool hall and pub, was our first stop. My parents met there long ago before it changed from a club and youth hostel where my dad was a DJ and my mom was a backpacker. Being in Amsterdam where coffeeshops dot every street, we stepped into a smoky den and then made our way past whispering drug dealers back to The Winston, where we spent the rest of the night dancing in the club run by the same management as the hostel.
The next morning, our first full day, we started with a hostel breakfast followed by tea at a caf called Bagels and Beans (coffee beans, that is) then the obligatory canal tour that starts outside the Heineken Experience. From there, we walked along the canal, up through the grassy space near the Van Gogh museum and got distracted with hot waffles, cherries, ice cream and Chocomels to wash it all down.
Eventually, we made it to Vondelpark, a welcoming green space with joggers, Frisbee players and more bikes. Back on the other side of town, we dined at a pancake house and walked through the Bloemenmarkt flower market before heading out for an unforgettable night at The Paradiso, a huge club converted from an old church.
In one room, we caught a show called The New Young Ones, which featured six hot new Dutch rock bands. In another room, the sold out Willy DeVille, bluesy rock that was around back when my mom saw him in Buffalo in the 70s under the band name Mink DeVille. A new crowd filed in for a techno dance hall and DJs till 5am, complete with an acrobat woman who
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