(Amsterdam Red Light District Old Church Square - “Quartier Putain” 1977)
Amsterdam:
If memory serves me, I caught the boat train to Amsterdam from Waterloo Station and departed from Southampton across the North Sea.
I have recounted elsewhere about the trip.
Arriving in Amsterdam’s port around 9:00 in the morning on a crisp autumn day, made my goodbyes to those that I had met on the trip over and slowly made my way into Central Amsterdam and eventually located my friend Dan Gravel at his flat.
I hadn't seen Dan in a few years. The last time that we had hung out together was when he was still with Chris living in New York.
Dan had moved to Amsterdam a couple of years previously; his flat was up on the third floor of one of those narrow houses that Amsterdam is well known for on Sint Jacobstraat in the heart of the red-light district. It was a great location to hang out and central enough to get to all the various amenities that Amsterdam offered.
I started exploring pretty much off the bat, hitting the local comic store which also sold hashish by the gram and by the ounce. (a great favourite with the various drug tourist…) It was so odd just walking into a store and purchasing hashish without any of the fear and paranoia associated with drugs found in the rest of the western world.
It was a marvelous feeling not looking over one's shoulder just because you were holding. I took to it readily, happy to feel free of the strictures of the US & Britain.
I soon discovered the various cafes bars and coffee shops where you could smoke Hash and purchase it as well, it was a real holiday.
I should describe Dan's flat. It was up on the 3rd floor consisting of a living room/ bedroom combo with kitchen and toilet. The windows were large as they often are in Amsterdam and there was an appendage off of the front of the building at the top for rope and tackle to haul furniture and other items up through the windows as a stairwell was so narrow making it impossible to carry up furniture and other large items.
Dan's flat was full of books, art, records as he had an insatiable curious mind. We spent many a comfortable night talking, having a drink, smoking hash and just hanging out with his friends. We had lots to catch up on as we hadn't seen each other for several years at this point as well. His health was off, and I happily ran errands and picking up food for him etc.
Being the red-light district it was quite busy at night and sometimes during the day on the weekends. His ground floor neighbor was a prostitute aged perhaps 55 to 60 years old. I kid you not; she had only one leg standing outside her flat on crutches… most of her trade seems to be very young Greek or Turkish sailors. She would have six to eight visitors a night and Dan always marveled at her abilities keep going. She also was incredibly sweet and kind, offering pastries to us in the morning when she came back from the store.
Dan's flat had the one room that serves as bedroom and living room. The small kitchen had a trundle bed that pulled out from underneath the sink. That is where I slept while staying with Dan. The way the piping was you could actually sleep underneath the sink but I was way too claustrophobic for that, pulling the bed out into the narrow kitchen.
The neighborhood was fairly tame during the daytime, at night it would get busy but what was really wild was the weekends when the buses of German tourists would unload and drop off single men & couples looking for a bit of sexual entertainment and whatever else they were into. I enjoy drifting through the crowds observing people, seeing how they reacted to being in Amsterdam. It really was a surreal circus on the weekends. In my wanderings, I discovered a Chinese Immigrant gambling den, in one of the basements, walking by as they opened up their window for air…. They saw me looking in, and slammed the window shut. I ran, not wanting problems.
Dan’s Flat 3rd floor, 4th building down…
My day(s) often consisted of walking about for awhile, finding a good cafe, sitting back and reading or working on the book that was formulating in my mind at that time.
It was remarkably a golden time to be there before the hordes of tourists began to appear in the '80s. Modernity had not yet thoroughly trampled the city.
I could go to the Van Gogh Museum, it would be just the guards & I in there for hours. I know you can't get as close to the paintings now as I could then, it was amazing to be able to see the actual brush strokes that Vincent had laid on the individual pieces. Having always been a fan of his work, this experience was unequaled, not being jostled by crowds, not looking over heads, but being able to stand and meditate upon a painting for as long as you wanted and needed to do. The guards would gently remind me not to get too close. Golden Afternoons….
I spent many hours as well in Rembrandt's museum with hardly anyone being around. Rembrandt's work as people know is an amazing study of light and shadow. What moved me the most was his use of browns and golds subtly layered up in the most wonderful way. It was incredibly humbling being in the presence of his works.
I stopped a couple of times outside of Anne Frank's museum but I just couldn't make myself go in it just seemed that there was this cloud of sadness over the neighborhood and especially over the house.
After a few weeks of smoking hash daily and spending a considerable sum on grams I bought an ounce. It seemed the way to go. I spent many the evening sitting in the window watching the street action below, whilst smoking hash with Dan.
A routine emerged. I would get up in the morning, fix coffee and smoke hash along with breakfast. I would go out to a cafe a little bit later for some writing, and continue to smoke through the day into the evening. I often found myself wandering down the canals past midnight, balancing on the edge above the water and the houseboats. Magical moments in my memories.
Eventually it was time to move on and allowed Dan to get on with his life and me with my travels.
I contacted my friend Michael in Germany who knew I was coming for an extended visit with him. Michael was very excited. We had met in Berkeley a few years before, meeting through mutual friends, Eve & Dylan, who were an item when we both met them. Michael was attending Cal Berkeley as an exchange student back when. He was now back in college in Freiburg in Breisgau.
After a few days I packed up, bid farewell to Dan and headed to the train station. I had about a half ounce of hashish with me which I thought would be a nice present for Michael. I was extremely high when I got to the train and then like a ball of confusion rolling down the hill I managed to miss my connection and then managed to get thoroughly lost in the rail system… oh bother.
Ended up going in circles around the Netherlands for 12 hours and then I got off the train somewhere, found a bed and breakfast and a meal and got on the train back to Amsterdam the next morning with my tail firmly tucked between my legs.
Dan was in stitches when I showed up on the doorstep that afternoon. He was happy just the same to have me back.
Decided to stay in Amsterdam for another week and during that week we finished off the rest of the hashish. Making my farewells once again, this time I went to the train station, clear headed and straight having earlier notated what trains to take to get to Germany. Boarded the correct train, found a nice window seat and sat down to read Leon's Iris's "Trinity" about the ongoing conflict in Northern Ireland.
Germany:
It was a beautiful day as the train made its way towards the border, the landscape started to change, hills started to appear and then great fields with magnificent oaks in the middle.
Soon… crossing the border and then after a bit finally arriving at the station in Munster while I was still reading my book. As the train came to a halt, I felt a presence next to me outside the window. I turned and looked, staring down into the barrel of a Heckler&Koch sub-machine pistol held by a German policeman who was pointing it directly at my head. I was thoroughly befuddled with this turn of events, I slowly put my book down and put my hands on my knees as the compartment door burst open and several policemen poured through with the guns drawn pointing them at me and yelling. I was thrown up against the wall with my arms spread out as one officer held a gun to the back of my head and yelled at me in German. I'd taken German classes in school and could understand what he was saying but I decided not to answer back in German but to answer only in English “What is going on, why are you doing this?”
They continued to yell at me in German as they first frisked me, tore my travel bag apart, made me slip my boots off to only find my passport along with my stash of traveler’s checks. They started yelling about the amount of money in the traveler’s checks, where did I obtain a passport etc. etc. and I still maintained not to answer them in German until they started speaking English to me.
Their demeanor slightly changed when they started to suspect that I perhaps was not the person they thought I was… At this point, the policeman who had been yelling in German at me switched to English. He told me that I fit the description of one of the Baader Meinhof Gang, in that I was dressed exactly as one of their members, as I was wearing a slouch hat, a long raincoat, etc.
They put their guns down when they realized I wasn't a threat and then they decided to question me like "what was I doing in Germany how long I was going to be there?"
I answered I was going to visit a friend and I'd probably be having a very short visit after the greeting I had received from you all.
This was not well received I have to say.
Eventually they let me go on my way with a somewhat sheepish "have a good time in Germany!"
I was absolutely pissed and angry after being terrified by having a gun shoved in my face, and then another to the back of my head… I started walking towards the exit of the station to who knows where…. and I walked right past my friend Michael who was coming down to greet me and he had to call after me and chase me down the corridor.
With all that transpired I realized why I had been delayed going into Germany because I can't imagine what would have happened if I had been caught holding the hashish. It was as if an angel was sitting on my shoulder and leading me into confusion so was not to be caught up in the mechanisms of German law.
I calmed down as we walked the streets together towards Michael's parents’ home where he was visiting and had come north to meet me…
So, looking back on the events of those days, the weeks before I went to Germany, Hanns Martin Schleyer, ex Nazi & prominent German Capitalist was kidnapped and executed by members of the of the RAF(Red Army Faction) Baader Meinhof Gang. During the hunt for the culprits, The Netherlands were shut down for 24 hours, all rail traffic halted, as well as a media blackout, which included the playing of Jean Michelle Jarre’s “Oxygene” for the whole time period on radio and tv. (Still one of my fave albums from that time period)
From what I have come to understand the German police/border units were looking for Rolf Heißler. I see little resemblance, outside of clothing, and being dark complected… but at that point I am sure they were grasping at straws. I have a feeling I was observed by Dutch police boarding the train, and the information was relayed on to the German Authorities.
There is more to this tale of course and I will return to it but this is enough for now. The Bader Meinhof gang continued their operations for another couple of decades. I was never mistaken for a member of their group again thankfully.
Thank you for reading!
Gwyllm
Being aware (and accepting) influences, both negative and positive while journeying in a foreign country can only add to the richness to one's life. You are fortunate to have traveled with a fearless open mind.
Thanks Cheryl!