Fascinated as any by Amsterdam’s infamous Red Light District, it was on my long to-do list on my recent visit to the lovely European city. Kitted up in warm clothes, braving the rain and chill in the air, my campus friend Tammy and I stepped out into the city around midnight on my first day there. I was in awe of the lights, buildings, roads, bars, cyclists, people. Everything about the city really. We decided that my first stop was going to be the Red Light District. Excited as a little kid and slightly nervous, we ventured towards the bustling, lit up area. Its location was probably the most intriguing point for me. Situated in the city, not on the outskirts or in a secluded suburb, it had an almost old-world charm to it. Rows and rows of windows with almost naked women posing, gyrating, vying for attention. From afar, with red lights shining on them, they looked gorgeous. I, however, managed to get close enough to one to notice all the flaws that the lights hid in a situation that now makes me laugh, but at the time had me in the grips of fear. I unwittingly aroused the ire of one of the ladies. No one who visited had thought it fit to warn me that laughing at the girls was a no-no. Well, I laughed, but at something Tammy and I were talking about. The woman however thought I was poking fun at her. And why not? She was slightly older and bigger around the edges. This I noticed on closer inspection when I unexpectedly came face to face with her at her window. Thinking I was mocking her with my loud, full-throated laugh, she came at me. She stepped right out of her little cubicle in her lingerie screaming at me, pointing her finger and shouting all sorts of profanities. By now a large crowd had gathered around us. Tammy, standing nearby looked on wide-eyed, but waiting to pounce on her if she so much as touched me. But the woman, probably after realising that she was standing in the street in her underwear, looking about 70 percent less attractive in normal lighting, decided to retreat back into her tiny glass room lined with dildos and a single mattress on the floor. Needless to say that that was the start to an eventful holiday in the beautiful city. I decided to take in the rest of the district and move on. Everything about the city delighted me. And having Tammy and her Dutch hubby, Koen, as hosts and tour guides made it all the more fabulous. We rang in my birthday with strangers singing for me and then a sweet, little surprise breakfast. I must say if it was not for Tammy, I would’ve probably gotten ridden over by one of the many cyclists and trams the city is also famous for. Their little bells failed to register in my head and I continued to walk on their pathway every day. They’re more dangerous, I think, than Johannesburg’s taxi drivers. They don’t stop, they don’t move. They just ride on whether you’re in their path or not. I must say the food was not that interesting. We have a much better pot and blend of variety here in South Africa. Truly grateful for that. Also grateful for the wonderful South African climate we all take for granted. I must’ve enjoyed about five minutes of sunlight in my week there. And finally, did I wander into the quaint, little coffee shops? You bet your bottom euro I did. Thoroughly enjoyable, mostly because of the mix of people, the music, and the cups of tea I was allowed to have there. Me being a huge fan of lovely teas. And did I have a pull on the infamous joint? Well now, some things are best left unsaid!!!!