Spake Cake in Amsterdam.
I stared straight ahead until I realized Katy and Lindsey were giggling about something.
Hmmm. I kept staring. Then I started talking until Lindsey said ….You’ve been talking for two hours, Kim. Oh. They had been giggling all day. I guess it hit us differently.
Anne Frank house. A very tragic event in world history… but they were giggling. And I had to sit down. So … weak.
There was a flight of so-steep-they-were-vertical stairs… were we rock climbing in Anne Frank’s house? Oh. This was the flight of stairs eight hidden people had to use to hide from the Nazis. And this was the room in which Anne Frank wrote her diary while she sat, terrified of what was to come (two years in a Nazi camp until death came two weeks before the liberation).
Videos of people who knew Anne Frank. Dutch sounded like German. I understood some words. Speaking of words, I wasn’t using them. Kept staring…
Why the hell were they giggling so much.
Hmmm. I still had a piece of space cake left. Would anyone notice me eating a piece of rainbow-colored cake?
Then we were in a porn shop. They didn’t remember the hour between Anne Frank’s house and the gay porn shop. I did. They giggled the whole time and I watched them giggle. So many phalli. So many dirty things. So many hott men plastered on posters that read ‘I won’t tell your girlfriend…’
Very nice people helped us find the Red Light district. 6 p.m. and already the booths in the alleyways were filled with prostitutes. Some danced, some jiggled their breasts at us (I wonder if they swung both ways? Ew.), some stared at the ground, ashamed. Some just stood there. How many men had each been with? Was sex even an enjoyable experience for them anymore? My guess is no.
Sat by a canal for a bit. So many canals and bridges.
So tired from walking around Amsterdam all day. Went back to the Marriott. Katy’s friend had hooked us up with a room at the Marriott for 35 euros a night. Sweet. We rode that shuttle four times and never paid the 5 euro fee for it. Never paid for the bottles of water or the taxi either.
Slept. Best sleep of my life possibly.
The next day we left Amsterdam. I’m pretty sure I got a good taste of it… or at least a good whiff.
