Sun, Sea & Sex

August 2009

Location: Amsterdam

In need of a fun, cheap weekend away, Derek and I bagged a DFDS Seaways bargain to Amsterdam for a cheerful £47 each. Our 2 night mini cruise departed from Newcastle ferry terminal on a very blustery (but, thankfully, dry) Saturday afternoon.

Check in was nice and smooth, and in no time at all we were making ourselves comfortable in our compact, yet cosy, cabin onboard the MS King of Scandanavia. 

Although small it was very practical, complete with claustrophobic bathroom and a folding top bunk bed – of which neither me nor Derek wanted to volunteer ourselves to sleep on. The likelihood of us being able to negotiate the steps in the dark after a few bevies at the bar seemed too great a potential for one of us ending up in a full body cast – so in the end, we decided to compromise by spending one night each on the top bunk. Couldn’t say fairer than that!

So with sleeping arrangements sorted, we swiftly unpacked our clothes – and food (we’d smuggled a small picnic onboard just to keep costs down, after checking the restaurant prices online beforehand), then we finally relaxed with a customary ‘first drink of the holiday’ glass of wine as the ferry left the terminal. 

Considering how windy it was, we sailed smoothly out into the North Sea and were on our way. Venturing out of our cabin, we went on to search the maze of corridors and decks. Neither of us had been on a cruise before, so we were both eager to explore.

We’d expected the ferry to be crammed full of hen and stag parties, so were actually surprised by the lack of L plates and lager guzzling groups – though there were the odd few around, (mainly girls donning fluorescent leg warmers and other 80s get-up), but overall, the crowd onboard was a real mixed bag of elderly groups, young couples and families with small children.

After some extensive exploration of the ferry, Derek and I headed to the bar to do some serious relaxing – and just as we sat down with a couple of drinks (and a prime sea view), lo and behold, in wandered two friends of ours, Tracey and Dave – what a small world it is – and so the four of us spent the rest of the evening drinking and being merry.

When we turned in for the night, I decided to take first turn on the top bunk – since Derek had indulged in a few too many bottles of Grolsch! Thankfully I had no mishaps, so by the time we arrived in Amsterdam the next morning I was able bodied (albeit slightly hungover) and ready for our sightseeing coach trip into the city centre.

After being inundated with a good hour’s worth of historical and cultural snippets from the coach driver (unfortunately none of which I can remember), we disembarked the coach and were given four hours in which to experience our own Dutch mini adventure.

Derek’s head was feeling more fragile than mine (as a result of the night before), and so neither of us was in the mood for anything too deep or meaningful. We bypassed the Van Gogh, Rembrandt and Anne Frank museums and made a bee-line straight for the Sex Museum. 

And it was a canny good laugh for 3 euros each. At first we weren’t quite sure what to expect, but we found just about everything from turn of the century photographs, to a mack-wearing mannequin flasher and a couple of 10 foot phallic seats (which you could pose on to have your photo taken). 

 It was all good, light-hearted fun – a place where young couples and old couples were all giggling like school children. 

Apart from the last room, (which does carry a warning sign to suggest the easily offended should refrain from entering). Of course, this didn’t apply to us, so in we went – and all I will say on the matter is yuck!

Afterwards, we wove our way around the jam-packed streets of Amsterdam – managing to almost get ran over several times by trams and cyclists, and we also got a little bit lost. Stopping at a canal bridge to get our bearings it soon dawned on us that we had stumbled upon the Red Light District after we both noticed a scantily clad woman sitting in the window of a building called Moulin Rouge. We had a quick mosey down the infamous street, (it would have been rude not to), and came to the conclusion that Sunday mornings/afternoons must be a quiet time for the Red Light District because there weren’t many people about, and most of the women sitting in the windows looked over fifty! 

Retreating back to the main streets, we were suddenly hit by an overwhelming cultural urge (and a need to sit down). So we clambered onboard a canal boat and set off on an hour long cruise. Historic information spewed out to us from speakers, which wasn’t particularly insightful, but the experience was relaxing and quaint all the same. So peaceful in fact, I almost fell asleep – and I undoubtedly would have, had it not been for the little boy behind who kept kicking the back of my chair for the whole duration of the trip. The canal cruise was around 8 euros each, and it was worth every penny (or cent). It was nice to just float around Amsterdam’s network of canals, soaking in the sights and the sun.

All chilled out and relaxed, (albeit with a child’s shoe print on the seat of my pants), we popped into a restaurant for a nice slap up meal, which didn’t cost the earth. Then afterwards we paid a visit to a nearby bakery to get picnic supplies for the return journey home.

The coach journey on the way back to the ferry terminal was an experience in itself – and probably not rare either. A group of teenage lads were sat towards the back of the coach, and whether they were drunk, stoned, or both, I’ll never know – but one of them projectile vomited ALL OVER. I thank my lucky stars, even to this day, that Derek and I were to the front of the coach, because even the poor people sat in the middle were in the line of fire. Everyone from about five rows back had the backs of their heads pebble dashed with sick. The coach driver, a large Dutch woman, went berserk and threatened to kick us all out unless somebody cleaned up the mess. Anyway, suffice to say it got cleaned up – and I’m sure the youth in question was a marked man when we all stepped back onto the ferry.

The actual journey home was bumpier than the outbound one - but we didn’t mind because we were so worn out we ended up turning in early anyway. After all, it’s never a good sign when you’re sat cradling a cup of tea whilst on holiday rather than an alcoholic beverage (well, for us anyway).

We woke up refreshed on Monday morning, just in time to watch from the deck as we pulled back into Newcastle ferry terminal. All in all, it was a very interesting weekend to say the least!