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The Boy in Amsterdam
It was a vacation — but not for my lonely heart.
More than any other city I’ve ever visited, Amsterdam seemed like a revelation.
I still don’t know why that was. Did it have to do with the fact that cannabis was a staple and not something hush-hush as it was at the time in the United States? Or was it that the Red Light District was a celebrated fixture instead of something hidden away for the sake of tourists?
I spent only hours there, but Amsterdam left an impression on me. Down gray cobblestone streets I walked, and it didn’t matter that it was a slightly gloomy summer day.
In a shopping area, a comic book shop stood next to a store selling sex toys. It was bizarre yet oddly delightful. I didn’t know what to make of it.
The canals sat empty while I was there, but I still took the time to look at the little gondolas resting there in the water. The whole place seemed far more peaceful than I might have thought otherwise.
Rain splattered the streets in teasing drops. My family and I sought shelter at an outdoor cafe with umbrellas over the tables. We ordered drinks and decided to stay for a while until the rain-shower passed.
I watched passers-by, as I’m apt to do when I’m in a new place. I try to get a feel for the way…
