An article discussing proposals to relocate Amsterdam’s famous red-light district (De Wallen) to the suburbs reminded me of a dumb thing I (then, a rambunctious 67-year-old, know-it-all youngster) did while visiting Amsterdam 15 years ago.
I wrote about it at the time at the Austin American-Statesman and included the product of my dumb action, the photo discussed in the article below.
Today, older and hopefully wiser, I am sharing the story sans photo, out of respect for the privacy of the ladies involved – a respect I should have shown at the time – and without any intent of passing moral judgement.
Hopefully, there are some amusing aspects and lessons learned in the story that make it worthwhile for me to share, for you to smile.
As I am half Dutch and half Latino, I never know which side of my personality will prevail in stressful situations. This became pointedly clear during our recent trip to Amsterdam.
While strolling through scenic Amsterdam, my wife and I unexpectedly and unintentionally found ourselves in the midst of the famous red-light district with large shop-front windows displaying smiling young ladies in various states of dress and undress. They were sending inviting glances to the google-eyed passers-by.
On the other side of one of the famous grachten, or canals, there were two particularly attractive, scantily clad ladies smiling at me – I believed.
Flattered, I started taking photos. But these ladies did not want to be photographed and started shouting, “Hey Grandpa, put that (bleep) camera away, or else bleep, bleep, bleep…”
Well, my acquired American personality told me that I had every right to photograph these ladies, so I took just one more picture.
Suddenly, I felt a claw-like grasp on my shoulder and heard a deep voice bellowing at me , “Didn’t you hear the ladies; they do not want their picture taken.” Startled, I turned around and looked up, and found myself staring at one of the biggest and meanest-looking men I have seen in a while. (Did I mention I am 67 years old, 5 feet 4 inches tall and have never taken hand-to-hand combat lessons?)
I wish that the levelheaded, pragmatic Dutch side of my personality had won out that day and that I had said I was sorry for taking the photos. Instead, I kept yelling at this giant, “Get your hands off me.” I was not going to be insulted or intimidated in front of my wife. Eventually, I pulled away. But, as big “Jan” let go of me, he hissed, “I should have thrown you in the canal.” I waited until I was several steps away before yelling at him, “You just try.”
Wrong (Latino) personality, wrong words! As I walked a little faster, I could hear footsteps rapidly approaching. Resigned to taking a very cold dip in the canal, or worse, I invoked my religious personality and said a quick prayer while waiting for the inevitable.
I felt a hard push on my back, heard some obscenities, but – surprise—I was not flying through the air into the canal. My salvation was two policemen on bicycles who had come into sight just ahead of us.
I learned several lessons from my red-light district experience. One of them is, don’t believe everything you see in the movies.
Remember the scene where the woman takes off her shoe and goes to town on her partners assailant? Well, in real life, there is very little, if any, on-the-scene participation by the female companion.
Afterward, I had to patiently listen to endless lectures as to “What not to do in Amsterdam.” I also resolved to enroll in “Martial Arts for Seniors with split personality issues.”
By the way, Amsterdam city officials recently [2007] announced plans to drastically curtail and regulate the activities in the red-light district.
