Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Dungeons & Dragons (not the kind you think)

Today the girls went to the Amsterdam Dungeon, an interactive show about Jack the Ripper and other assorted historical fear mongering.

On the way to the Amsterdam Dungeon, I tried to take the girls to a lovely paper shop called Vlieger. They did not care at all.
One of them had to pee so I accidentally sent her to a "coffeeshop" to find a bathroom.

and two of them were confused about where the dungeon was.
Natasha was the star of the show. We don't know how they do the production when she is not in town. She screamed on cue, cut off someone's head, was burned at the stake, and came back to life. Some Russian tourists asked her how much she was getting paid. I smell a summer job in her future.

While we had 80 minutes to ourselves,
this dog posed for us.

We went to this cafe where you can buy lights. It was really not the least bit as charming as the photos make it out to be.

F and I then went for an adventure in the Red Light District. In the broad light of day it reminded me of how Time Square used to be when it was really and truly disgusting. I am not against the legalization of marijuana by any means, but the horny groups of nerdy and desperate men travelling in packs while still trying to recover from the night before the night before should really be made into a public service announcement to scare young people against what they could turn into if they head down a certain seedy path.

Listen to the sounds of depravity:

I didn't pay to go in, but those boys behind me were really prime examples of what you hope your children don't grow up to be.

As I managed to hit my foot on the screen of my computer hard enough to bruise it badly this morning, but not badly enough that I knew why I was in so much pain all afternoon; I ended up going to get a foot massage that I hoped would be fifteen minutes of expert reflexology that would make me feel like a million bucks. I was wrong. This Chinese lady who immigrated to Amsterdam a year ago and knew very few words of English or Dutch let us know that she really needed the money to send back to her children. She had remarkable strong and massive hands for a fairly petite woman and she made me yelp and cry and did very little to relax me.

at least the money went to a deserving person.

 She did not in fact know anything about reflexology but indicated to a poster on the wall behind me that showed that pain under your big toe has to do with your tits. There was in fact a photo of naked female torso superimposed on the anatomy poster of the foot. I am pretty sure it would have been more accurate to show a computer screen there right where the red bruise mark delineated the point of contact. Anyway, I managed to bargain her down to fifteen minutes and away from the secret Chinese medicine for pain that she was about to apply without letting me see the ingredients. I had a lump the size of a golf ball on the top of my foot  by the time we picked up the girls at the Dungeon place. Just in time to take them shopping for the odds and ends they didn't get the last three times we took them shopping.

The good news in the Red Light District was the Not-for-Sale organization's work at the Dignitas' store. They provide social services, housing, and job training in food preparation and service to some of the 25,000 women, many from Eastern Europe, who come to Amsterdam to work as prostitutes due to extreme poverty.

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