Drugs, Sex and Improv in Amsterdam

I like to think of myself as physically fit. I reason that anyone who can run ten miles is in pretty good shape. I can run ten miles. I know I can because I did it in 1999. I have witnesses!

You may infer from the above that my self-esteem is a fragile contentment built on suspect reasoning. Which is why I avoid physical exertion. Exercise inevitably results in my body telling my ego that it is a damn liar. It can be an ugly scene.

I mention this so you understand my alarm when Denise suggested that we take a Free Walking Tour of Amsterdam.

Amsterdam is not a small town. It is a major world city. This could involve a lot of walking. It might force me to face reality. I didn’t buy airplane tickets and book an expensive hotel because I wanted to dispel my own illusions. If I wanted to do that I could have saved a lot of money by just looking in a mirror.

While we are on the subject of hotels and exercise, let me tell you about Amsterdam’s Hotel Nadia. Before I do that, however, I need to say something about Dutch taxes. Before your eyes gloss over please remember that it was taxes that led to the American Revolution and intergalactic warfare in Star Wars, Episode I: The Phantom Menace. It also is what caused Amsterdam’s canal-side homes and businesses to look like this:

Amsterdam adjoins a dam of the river Amstel (hence the name, “Amsterdam”). Beginning in the late 1500’s and extending into the 1600’s the city built four concentric canals. The horseshoe-shaped canals originate at the Amstel, cut through the city center, then flow back into the same river. Goods were transported down the Amstel river, then through the canals. Merchants living next to a canal would receive the goods and store them in the upper floors of their homes/shops.

If merchants built traditional homes, homes many times wider than the ones now bordering the canals, a relative few would be able to enjoy canal benefits. The city enacted a property tax designed to discourage residents from hogging valuable canal frontage.

Rather than levy a tax based upon a building’s total square footage, the government taxed owners only on the size of the facade. This encouraged owners to build homes which were narrow, but deep and high. Hooks were placed on the roof so that goods and furniture could be hauled up from the canal and taken in through an open window (thus avoiding the narrow stairs).

This brings us to the Hotel Nadia, which is on one of the canals.

Upon entering the hotel Denise and I were confronted by this staircase:

I immediately heard a disembodied female voice from above. I couldn’t make out exactly what was said, but the voice had a distinctive Russian accent so I assumed it had something to do with Donald Trump.

Believing the reception desk had to be on the ground floor, I looked for an intercom speaker while turning toward an impossibly narrow hallway, just to the right of the stairs. Denise grabbed an arm and pulled me back. She pointed skyward to a tiny, almost imperceptible face sticking out a window at the top of Huayna Picchu. There, from on high, Natasha Fatale beckoned us.

We couldn’t check in unless we first climbed the stairs of death.

Denise was traveling unusually light, so the bag I carried upstairs, one step at a time, weighed only a few hundred pounds. Half way up my body challenged my ego to a fist fight. Eventually both reached the summit, body breathing hard and ego crumpled like a dead snake. Natasha checked us in and we were given access to our room.

Denise found in our room a brochure for the Free Walking Tour. She suggested we immediately take advantage of the opportunity. I insisted we never do anything even remotely like that.

We began the tour by meeting our guide at Amsterdam’s oldest building, which is a church. The Dutch, being a practical people, have dubbed the building “The Old Church.” It has been called “The Old Church” since before America was a country.

The Old Church, built in the 13th Century, sits in the middle of the red light district. You may well imagine the battle which must have ensued when brothels were built across the street from Amsterdam’s most venerable religious building, consecrated by the Roman Catholic Church and once frequented by Rembrandt.

According to our tour guide, there was no protest. To the contrary, Catholic priests sponsored the brothels. They saw prostitution as a positive force for the city, and for the church.

Amsterdam was a port city. Newly arrived sailors would be desperate for, let us say, affection. The red light district lured frisky sailors to a singular area, away from neighborhoods where they might otherwise encounter and molest the virtuous wives and daughters of city elders. The sailors could later feel an appropriate amount of remorse, confess their sins and, in exchange for a monetary donation, obtain the Lord’s forgiveness.

Unfortunately, ships often sailed very early in the morning. Sailors might have to leave the city before confessing their sins and buying forgiveness. Enterprising priests resolved the problem by allowing sailors to buy forgiveness before sinning. Geographical separation of church and brothel would have made the Lord’s commerce much less convenient for everyone concerned.

Our tour guide was a handsome young man with long strawberry blond hair and a winning smile. He began the tour by explaining that other walking tours generally charge 25 euros per person. They get that money up front. The “Free” Walking Tour allows you to enjoy the tour and then decide how much payment is justified. Some cheapskates might pay less, but others would pay more. I knew from Denise’s admiring looks, which were not directed at me, that the free tour was going to be more expensive than one with a set fee.

We walked a bit. Our guide pointed to a couple of Amsterdam’s famous “coffee shops.” These are shops where you may or may not be able to get a cup of coffee but most definitely can buy marijuana. I was familiar with the concept because I had been to Amsterdam in 1985. Back then it seemed impossible that a person could just walk into a store, look at a menu, and buy marijuana. I resolved to discover whether rumors of that reality were true.

They were.

Our tour guide explained, however, that trafficking in marijuana still is not legal in the Netherlands. Much like 17th Century Jesus, Dutch law enforcement indulges coffee shop sins in exchange for money, paid in the form of taxes. But the government will not allow coffee shops to grow the weed they sell, and it prosecutes importers. I don’t know that drug cartels lobbied for this arrangement, but who else benefits from both sanctioning retail sales and not allowing retailers to grow their own pot?

That last bit of commentary was way too serious. So let us pay our handsome guide for the Free Walking Tour and be on our way. We have time for dinner and a show.

Meandering from the Hotel Nadia we came upon Long Pura, an Indonesian restaurant. Neither Denise nor I had ever eaten Indonesian food. Truth be told, if Mike Pompeo demanded that I find Indonesia on a map I would have to ask an NPR reporter for help.

We examined a menu taped to a window. It bore no claim that the food was free so I thought we could afford it. We went inside.

The wait staff was dressed in traditional Indonesian garb. Or at least that is what we were told. Having never been to Indonesia, for all I know they just pulled sequin blouses and parachute pants from the lost and found box at a MC Hammer concert. But they looked real nice and were very attentive.

We ordered a sampler dish. I don’t recall the name of our order, but if you go to Long Pura you should take this picture and tell the server you want whatever this happy American lady had:

After dinner we went to Boom Chicago which, like Long Pura, was just a short walk from Hotel Nadia. Boom Chicago is an American improv group. We did not know it at the time, but Amsterdam’s Boom Chicago is kind of a big deal.  Seth Myers, Jordan Peele and Jason Sudeikis are among its alumni.

We enjoyed the performance so much we went back the next night. The actors were the same but the show was quite different. We laughed and laughed. After the show an actor announced that although the official show was over he would perform a stand-up routine and everyone was invited to stay for that.

A young actor who had performed brilliant and hilarious improvisational comedy began a routine that he no doubt had spent many hours writing and rehearsing. He began by saying how he hated dogs. He mocked an old girlfriend who cried when her dog died. The bit might have worked if it had been delivered by Cruela de Vil in Hell, but in Amsterdam you could hear a pin drop.

Speaking of evil women, remember how in The Wizard of Oz Miss Gulch, who would become The Wicked Witch, rode a one speed bicycle sitting straight up?

Virtually everyone in Amsterdam rides a similar bike.

You may think that observation came out of nowhere. But the wicked witch also didn’t like dogs, and also got what was coming to her.

My next article will be about Spain. Perhaps about Benidorm, which is Spain’s answer to Spring Break in Fort Lauderdale, except for geriatric Brits. Hit the subscribe button and you will be notified when that little gem is posted!