Meeting sex in amsterdam anons
And this all made me sad, because the time I spent in between the Red Light streets and the chip shops, when I would stumble upon the beautiful streets and historical corners, showed me Amsterdam as a real human city which is worth spending time in.It’s a fascinating place, with masses to do and see and so much character and good GOD such excellent cheese.But I sympathise with the locals, who are sick of being associated with nothing but sex and drugs.Amsterdam has nothing to do with sex and drugs, after all. Amsterdam’s legend is nothing more than a pervert’s fart.The pot isn’t smoked in a louche, bohemian manner but is ubiquitously tacky, with those awful marajuana-leaf icons everywhere as if we were all fourteen again and thought this was a marvelously risqué, naughty thing to contemplate.Little pockets of the city reek of weed, which itself smells like burnt llama hair and is deeply nauseating.It’s nothing to do with the thrills and the taboos and the lick-your-lips juicyness we hope it will be.It’s just a market, a group of traders carrying out basic transactions: here is a naked lady, would you like to view the range of tarifs or simply pay for a one-off basic option?
The city itself is stunningly beautiful; the buildings are charmingly Seuss-like and lean slightly sideways and forwards all over the place so you feel slightly woozy.
Canals ooze between all of the streets and are lines with trees, hanging baskets, chic bistros…
And slotted in amongst all this, like pieces of litter in a manicured flowerbed, there are hundred of strip bars, peep shows, sexy-fun-time-‘toy’-shops – and, of course, the infamous booths.
As soon as I had booked my flights, we established that the very important meeting was in fact taking place the day after my return to Berlin.
As soon as I had rebooked my flights and had several arguments with Easy Jet, we established that the meeting was in fact cancelled.I began to feel that a lot of Amsterdam is much the same, after a while.