A stoner chick's guide to Amsterdam

My first trip to Amsterdam was in 1991 when I was 21 years old. It was the classic backpack around Europe with hostel/train pass and the laying-sack-of-shit book Europe on $10 a Day. By the time my boyfriend (at the time) and I had hit Amsterdam, it was 6am and I was thrashed from traveling from Athens to Amsterdam in one fell swoop. (I don’t recommend this folks. I was young and stupid.)

We opened up the hotel book and walked over to this Christian Youth Hostel in the Red Light District (link). On one side of the hostel was a needle exchange and on the other was a whorehouse. Boys were in one dorm and girls were in the other. This was great news for me because I had tried to break up with my said boyfriend in Athens but couldn’t shake him. This sleeping situation meant that I could avoid him totally. However, I needed two things: food and drugs.

The hostel was a mix of Christians and degenerates. But the nice Christians said that if anyone wanted to sing to the Lord with them, they could eat with them. Lucky for me I knew a few Bible songs from when I was nine years old. Bingo: food.

I demanded $10 from the said boyfriend and bought a bag of Jamaican Skunk Bud that lasted me a week and I had to give the rest away when I left. Bingo: drugs.

The Radisson is very swanky, but not a TRUE Amsterdam experience. It was a huge hotel in a great location. My room had a window that faced someone’s office window, so I had to shut the blinds the whole week. HOWEVER, there was a great mini bar and lots of drinking was done in my room – the alcohol in the mini-bar was not overpriced, either.

Its location rocks because right across the cobblestone street is a deli and two "brown cafes".

(It looks like this hotel is Ramada-owned now. . .)

This hotel was about a 10-minute tram ride from Damn Square. However, this trip was my fourth trip to Amsterdam, so I was ready to branch out and see how the locals lived and played. It was the best decision I ever made. The hotel was darling and the location was supposed to be in the ritzy part of town. Right next-door was a bakery and next to that was a drugstore and a grocery store. Perfect!

The front desk gal was a kick in the pants! One day I asked her: “How’s it going?” to which she replied, “The bad are always doing good.” Ha!

My room had 24-hour porn.

I called this trip “The Vacation of Nine Baths.” The tub was about six feet long, two feet deep, and had hot water all the time.

Wow, the Eden was terrible. It was where all the tour groups stayed. The rooms were SMALL! And it was just very NOT fun. However, the location is ok, in the great gay section of town.

People in Amsterdam have this love for fries in a paper cone with a side cup of mayo. At first I was like, "Hell no, I won't go." But then after eating way too many rich meals, I was happy to eat some fries here and there. Walking it off helps.

One rainy afternoon, I made my way over to the Torture Museum. It’s right behind the main shopping street on DAMRAK. It’s hard to find, but totally worth it, if you’re a sick gal like me. It's now on Singel, near the flower market. It's cheap (7.50), but doesn't accept museum cards. It’s small and dank, containing your everyday racks, beds of nails, and iron maidens. It’s very tongue-and-cheek, but to a point. After a bit, it’s very disturbing and as you leave, you pass the mother of them all: the guillotine. They have placed a chair for you to pass out on if you wish. When I go back, I’ll do it again. Note: they have moved it to this new address, so if you’re traveling with an old book, make sure you got the right address.

Address: Torture Museum: Damrak 20.

Directions: It's hard to find, but just look for it. Make a left at the flag store and it's halfway down the block.

Phone: (020) 639 2027

"I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they've always worked for me." -- Hunter S. Thompson

Every November Amsterdam holds Cannabis Cup for a week. For 2004, it’s November 24-28. Passes cost $225. Included in your pass, you get entrance to all Cannabis Cup world-class nightly concerts and judges-only lounge at the Melkweg nightclub; entrance to daytime Expo center featuring grow seminars, exclusive judges lounge, cannabis related product vendors, counter culture guest speakers, and giveaways; coffee shop bus tours to all the entered coffee shops; and the right to vote for the best of 2003.

TYPICAL DAY OF JUDGING AT CANNABIS CUP
6am: I would wake up at 6am and test the weed from the last place I was the night before. Then fall back asleep.

9am: Wake up and eat breakfast and try very hard to shake my friends awake.

10am: Head out to my first cafe. Order a cup of coffee, $5 worth of weed that the place had entered in the Cannabis Cup, bust out my judges book, and critique it. I had to judge taste, smell, look, is it being high or is it like being stoned. Somewhere during this time, a friend would show up and tag along to the next place. Not one of them knew how to roll a joint. I rolled all the goddamn joints. Stupid stoners.

10:30am-11am: By this point, I am high. I am the map person. My friends have now all shown up and are too stoned to be map person. Get lost.

Noon-5pm: Judge three more cafes. Think highly about switching to hash as the coughing starts around 2pm.

5pm-7pm: Nap. Praise the lord. Ask my friends to nap, too, just to shut them up from talking about talking about talking about. Stoners.

8pm-midnight: Go to one more cafe and have a beer before showing up at the Cup for some late-night scheduled party. The conversation is always about how I cannot believe I have smoked this much weed. Reply: smoke hash.

Address: 28 different “brown cafes” around Amsterdam

Conclusion: I was the only one who finished all 27 cafes and voted. By the second day, my pals had quit. I was map person, rolled every single joint, and planned out the course of action. Stoners.

Nightlife Spot: Gay Amsterdam is not just for fags!

Description:
By the Eden Hotel, off the river Amstel, is the GAY area of town. The guys there told me that they hated be called GAY, but FAG was better. I had the best night out with them and am still in contact with one even to this day.

Dress code:
Slutty. . . gay boy style.

Directions:
Amstel Dam area

Here is the lowdown: prostitution has been legal in the Netherlands since Napoleon made it so in 1815; in 1996, the Dutch government started to tax it. According to statistics, there are now more than 25,000 prostitutes in the Netherlands and over half of these are said to be illegal immigrants. Sex always involves a condom and costs around 50 euros for oral and then full sex. There are also many brothels, both low and high class. In high-class brothels, such as Yab Yums, sex can cost upwards of 150 euros an hour.

A friend of mine told me that some prostitutes are more concerned about cleanliness than others.

Don't bring anything with you if you’re going cruisin’ in the red light district at night, but make sure you have enough money. Keep your head clear and keep the rest of your money back in your hotel safe.

On my last trip, I got so comfortable with the Dutch that I actually thought I was learning to speak it. This however is wrong. I was walking by a movie theater one day and saw a sign for This is Spinal Tap in plain English. So that night, I went. And I’ll be damned if that movie wasn’t dubbed in Dutch! That was probably one of the funniest thing I ever did while on vacation.

It was my first time in Amsterdam and then boyfriend and I were given two free tickets for a float down the canal trip. So we ducked over to the side and lit up. However, by this time, we knew exactly how much to smoke before it was too much. But I dared us to not just take ONE PUFF off the joint but TWO!

And that did it. It was Fear and Loathing in Amsterdam. I freaked out, climbed in in the boat, sat down, looked said boyfriend in the face, and firmly told him that I was going to die and that my heart was exploding. I put my head in my lap and cried. And off we went. . . Then just like that! Snap. I was floating. . . calm waters, beautiful views, slow, and serine. I was going to live. I sat up and smiled. Until tour conductor lady started talking.

She informed everyone that we would be on the little boat for an hour and a half and we were on a special tour of gables. "WHAT!" I shouted out loud to the dismay of tour conductor lady. My exclamation of "WHAT" had two parts to it. One part was Why! WHY so long? And the other was, What on Earth is a gable? Well, an hour and a half later I knew. They are the stupid things that stick out of the tops of the buildings in order to haul furniture into the thin Dutch houses.

I still have the photo the tour company took of everyone on that trip. At the end of the tour, all the photos are stuck up on this board. I saw mine and took it. I realized later that we had to buy them (dumb ass me), but the Dutch are too cool to go running down the street after some idiot American high on grass, lucky for me.

At least do this once. Do go. I do it every time I visit Amsterdam. However, there are several different companies doing this offering different styles and types of cruises. You run the gamut when you walk out of Central Station. What I do is look at all the brochures for the different operators in my hotel lobby. They all have them. And I chose that way.

If you have read my home page you know that I had a vision to go see the Great Pyramids. I just thought while I'm in that hemisphere, I might as well head over to Amsterdam for a week and chill out after my big tour. I had only been to Europe that one time, years ago. And now that I got a big fat settlement check, I was going to live it up!

This was my big 30th birthday Europe trip and I was traveling alone. I booked myself at the fancy schmancy Radisson SAS Hotel. That’s all fine and dandy, except I somehow managed to elude getting Pharos Revenge (explosive diarrhea that one ALWAYS gets when in Africa) while IN EGYPT, but picked it up on the British Airways flight from Cairo to Amsterdam. My whole trip consisted of drinking water, eating bread and cheese, and I learned the hard way that I should never ever venture more than six blocks from the hotel when I was in Ann Frank’s House. Medical marijuana was administered by professional Rastafarians, who were in a brown cafe around the corner from my hotel.

After a few days, I went to the concierge and had them book me a seat at the ballet. Amsterdam is supposed to have one of the best. I can tell you, however, that I was blown away and having two 10-minute breaks every half hour to smoke a joint was key. On the first break (I swear to God this is true), a Swedish flight attendant tried to pick me up. But I’m not gay and turned her down, but wished I was just so I could brag about it.

Here’s a photo of this place. You'll be here a lot. All trams come and go from here and this is the main train station if you’re coming from another location in Europe. It's also within walking distance Dam Square and, most likely, your hotel.

On my fourth trip, I finally got a clue about tram tickets. They sell them at the grocery stores or the train station. They look like long thin pieces of paper that you fold over and stick in the tram machine ON the tram. I think before I realized this, I was spending $3 a jaunt, whereas the tickets made it about $.50 a jaunt. Well, it's never too late.