Today we grabbed a leisurely breakfast along one of the canals in downtown Amsterdam and then headed to the Van Gogh Museum. I’m not a huge art fan, but I do appreciate Van Gogh’s work and some of my favorite art comes out of the Impressionist period. So I was excited to visit the museum.
It was interesting reading about Van Gogh’s history and seeing some of his most revered work. While I was walking through the exhibit I definfintely was able to relate to Van Gogh a little more than I ever thought I would. The museum did a great job of conveying his struggle to find his place in the world and leave a lasting mark before he faded away. I was surprised to learn that he didn’t really start painting until about 8 years before his death. He seemed to restlessly wander from location to location doing a variety of jobs before he became a painter.
When he started painting he felt all the pangs of uncertainty that any of us would face when embarking on a drastically new career. For some reason I have always had this picture in my head that all great artists understand their greatness and the legacy they are leaving to the world. They know they are making something special and it’s just a matter of it being found and appreciated. After reading Van Gogh’s personal letters, it was evident that he was incredibly uncertain about what he was doing and what his contribution would be to the world.
Towards the end of his life, doctors think he had developed Epilepsy and he checked himself into a mental institution for a while because no one really understood the condition back then. After that he seemed to completely lose faith in himself and ended up taking his life at 37 years old. He never knew the impact that his work would have on the generations that came after him. It deeply saddens me that he left this world thinking he was a complete failure. He never imagined that history would later look back on him as one of the most revolutionary painters to ever pick up a paint brush.
Even a painter of his caliber struggled to find meaning and purpose in his life. I don’t know if that means there is more or less hope for us finding those answers. But I think it does show us that none of us are alone in this quest.
After the Van Gogh museum we took a canal tour of the city that was pretty run of the mill. Then we hit up a bar that was recommended by one of my coworkers called Golem. It was a quaint bar in a small off the beaten track alley. The bar had a million and a half beers available and the inside of the bar looked like it would be better suited for a small loft apartment than an actual bar. But nonetheless, these are the type of places I love.
The first thing that strikes you when you walk into the bar is the beer list of course. But shortly after that I looked around at the patrons surrounding the bar and they were almost all locals. It reminded me of a book I read recently called the Tender Bar. The people were friendly and Syril the bartender was a great host. We ordered my new favorite beer of choice Leffe Blonde (a Belgium beer) followed by several Delerium’s. After hanging out for a bit, the bar started getting more and more crowded. So we took a table up at the top level of the little bar and a few moments later we were talking to the group of people next to us. We learned that two of them were actually from Minneapolis (what are the chances of that?). One was a teacher and the other worked at the Bedlam theater. They were on a month long trip and were squatting at the apartment of a friend in Amsterdam. So we talked with them for a while and then headed out around 12:00 or so to wander around the city.
On the walk home we came across the famous couple streets with windows of prostitutes. At that time of night there were probably 25 girls, one in each window, basically showcasing themselves in bikini’s and other scantily clad clothing. This was a truly eye opening experience. As most people know, prostitution is legal in Amsterdam (among other things), so it’s not every day you come across women legally selling their bodies. I’ve always had this visceral negative reaction to prostitution that I think has been engrained in me for a long while by my practically Puritan upbringing. I had this perception in my head that walking down “hooker row” and looking through these windows would be a depressing ordeal. I imagined that these women would all be selling their bodies because they have no other choice. I imagined that each of them would be plagued by disease and their bodies would show it. After seeing the whole environment, it really changed my perspective.
It was about 1:00 A.M. by now. The streets were quite busy at that hour with a variety of people wandering about and checking out the women in the Macy’s like store windows. As we walked past one window after another, I didn’t feel the depressing soul crushing sadness that I thought I would. Most of the women we saw were drop dead gorgeous and actually looked enthusiastic about doing their job. They seemed to almost take a certain pride in it all. The way the windows work is that these women rent a window for an 8-10 hour shift for 60-150 euro depending on the location. Then they charge 40 to 50 euros for 15-20 minutes of sex (reference: Wikipedia). Prostitution is treated like any other self employed trade job in Amsterdam. They get access to the social security system, can form unions, and have to pay income tax.
I’ve traveled more than most people I know, but I’ve never seen anything like “hooker row”. In a way, it really forced me to humanize prostitution much more than I ever did before. I’m still not a supporter of women selling their bodies, but the whole trip definitely changed the way I think about it.
