I’m not sure Amsterdam is the best place for girls’ weekend.
Come Saturday the price of hostels almost double and the town is taken over by Brits Abroad and ubiquitous stag dos.
You can’t blame stag dos for coming here though, I have to admit the girls in the Red Light District are absolutely gorgeous.
Ok, some are minging, but many are gorgeous, including the girl we paid two euro to stand in a secluded booth and watch touching herself on a revolving bed.
Unfortunately, my two euro peep show also got me a free show of the Kim Dotcom lookalike in the booth directly opposite me touching himself as well.
It was longest and most disturbing – ‘I should not be watching this but can’t stop watching this’ – two minutes of my life.
In terms of other stereotypical Dutch touristy things we managed to knock off while in Amsterdam, we:
Queued to eat at the famous pancake house where the pancakes are more like pizzas.
I bought my first souvenir in a long time – a two euro clog keyring which promptly broke two minutes later. My only clog souvenir is now this photo.
We got our fair share of photos with the ‘I Amsterdam’ sign.
We stumbled across many a weird window display.
And most excitingly, we discovered if you pretend to be mildly interested in buying some Gouda you can sample pretty much every variety of fromage in the cheese shops for free – making it the perfect backpackers’ free morning and/or afternoon tea.
In fairness, I did actually want buy some cheese but it’s not exactly practical as a backpacker to be carrying around a wheel of Gouda in your rucksack and I’m pretty sure my dorm buddies wouldn’t appreciate it either.
But in truth the thing I enjoyed most about my weekend in Amsterdam was having a female friend to hang with.
The hostels I’m in seem to be devoid of female backpackers, not that I mind the company of males, but sometimes you just need to have girly chats about love and life.
And I could have used her the night before when I came home somewhat upset/quite drunk after a particularly strange date with a Dutch man.
I accept it was partially my own fault, I’d built him up in my head, and in reality, he was, how do I put this – very Dutch.
Without her there the friend duty fell to Angry Meat Man who kindly cuddled me until I fell asleep.
I am forever grateful, though I do recall he owed me somewhat after the ‘Amsterdam is trying to kill me’ weed episode the day before.