Read One Night In Amsterdam Online
Authors: Nadia C. Kavanagh
One Night In Amsterdam
A Novel by
Nadia C. Kavanagh
ONE NIGHT IN AMSTERDAM
Copyright © 2014 Nadia C. Kavanagh
Cover Design by Jesus Cordero
Cover Amsterdam Photograph by S. Borisov
ISBN-13: 978-0692333358
ISBN-10: 0692333355
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical or real events, people or places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, places and events used in this book are products of author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, places or people is coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical or by any other information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author.
The following story is intended for adult readers only.
Try to be a rainbow in someone's cloud.
Maya Angelou
Amsterdam in 1662
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
EMMA
I glanced at the unusual sign our tour guide was pointing at for a second. The eccentric and kinky name ‘Condomerie’ etched in crooked capital letters was visible even far away. The triangle shaped, yellow sign hanging above the door swayed back and forth with the light breeze but I managed to read the words ‘Het Gulden Vries’ written underneath it. It was referring to the ‘Golden Fleece of a winged Ram’ in Greek mythology. Why in the world a condom store would reference Greek mythology on its sign, I had no idea but I didn’t dare to ask.
Strangely, ‘Condomerie’ didn’t look much different than other shops located in the highly touristic area of the city. In place of the succulent confectionaries embellishing the displays of a patisserie or mouthwatering truffles in a chocolaterie, the display behind the tall windows of ‘Condomerie’ were colorful condoms. They were all blown up like balloons in different sizes, strung out in multiple rows, and hung down with clothespins.
Sydney pulled my arm impatiently to cross the narrow, stone-paved street to check out the various designs up close. She was giggling and teasing me incessantly as I stood stubbornly. I threw a furious, disapproving look at Sydney and wondered again what I was doing in the most impudent area of the sin capital of the world, ‘Amsterdam’ with a group of brazen college kids.
“You need to check this out,” Sydney uttered too enthusiastically.
‘No!” I said and shook my head, glaring at her.
“Come on Ems… you promised. We were going to do this together,” she tried to cajole me this time.
“Hell, no, Syd! I am not interested in a condom shop. That’s not what I agreed.” I said but she didn’t care for my demur.
“Not just a condom shop Emma, it is Condomerie! Where else can you get customized condoms with different designs of the world?” she said, and crossed the street without waiting for me. “We are in Amsterdam. Loosen up a little, Miss Uptight!” She hollered across the street.
I ignored her and our loud group, hoping that they would stop bothering me as I checked my emails and messages. However, only a minute later, Sydney yelled again. “You’ve got to see this Emma. There is a condom shaped like the Eiffel Tower, and another like the Statue of Liberty,” she chuckled. “Oh my God, these are so hilarious.”
To be honest, she made me curious when she mentioned the Statue of Liberty design. I wondered how the symbol of my city became a condom design but I wasn’t going to let my curiosity surpass my rationality. I was soon to be a doctor. A year away from getting my residency. All I wanted was a relaxing vacation for a couple of days. Wandering around the Red Light District with Sydney and checking out condom designs did not fall under my definition of relaxation.
I was still mad at her for making me come to Amsterdam. I regretted telling her about my need for a vacation- it was supposed to be a short getaway to relax and recoup before my summer internship started at the clinic. My plan to go to Europe was meant for Bruges - the medieval picturesque city with pretty canals and houses that made the city look like a fairytale town. I wanted to visit the cathedrals and museums and of course indulge in most delicious chocolates and truffles in the world. As soon as I shared my plan, Sydney protested immediately, “Bruges… are you kidding me? How old are you? Fifty!” She said disapprovingly.
“Why do you say that?” I asked.
“Because, Bruges is a boring, old town. Only old people go there.”
“I disagree. I’ve been to Bruges before. It happens to be a beautiful, quiet town, not boring at all.”
“You said it… it is a quiet town! Again, it is for old people.”
“Syd! I like quiet towns. They are relaxing and soothing. I also enjoy the canals and the architecture there.”
“Well, if you want to see canals, great architecture and museums, I have another city in mind which is not so boring. I am sure you will love it there too.”
A week after our short, instantaneous discussion, all thanks to my crazy cousin and best friend ‘Sydney’ and her fast planning, I found myself in Amsterdam. Shortly after our arrival, she convinced me to take a tour given by our eccentric, purple-haired tour guide.
We met in front of the national monument at Dam Square at noon with a group of college kids and since then Sydney was eagerly following our guide, while I was constantly falling behind. My lack of enthusiasm was palpable. Sydney, on the other hand, was having a blast. I could hear her boisterous laughs every time the purple-haired girl cracked another sex joke. According to our somewhat lunatic tour guide, we were getting the PG-13 version of the tour. She saved her unabridged, rated R version for the evening tour. Still, her brazen jokes were making me uncomfortable. I wanted to go back to my hotel and read the papers for the upcoming seminar. However, I knew there was no way to sneak out without getting noticed by Sydney. I decided to suck it up for a bit longer.
Before long, our tour guide, now holding a yellow umbrella in her hand, instructed our group to move along for the next stop. Of course, Sydney used the perfect opportunity to make me stop in front of the infamous store, and took a picture of me with the condoms in the background instantly.
“Say cheese!” she said with a priggish smile.
“Whatever, Sydney! You are acting like a ten year old.” I grimaced, hoping the Red Light District part of the tour would soon be over but unfortunately, we had just started and had three more hours to go. Wishing the rest would be less embarrassing, I realized sadly that it was getting worse because our next stop was a BDSM store.
“Come on, Emma.” She pulled me again to check out the store. “Ease up a little bit and let go. What’s wrong with enjoying life a little?” She smiled mischievously, trying to soften me up. “You should try it, at least while we are in Amsterdam,” she winked. It was her usual advice: Enjoy yourself! Get drunk! Have some fun with a hot guy! Have a one-night-stand! Oh, no! I didn’t want to consider the possibility of that in a city like Amsterdam.
“I agreed to join you, didn’t I? I am still by your side in the infamous ‘De Wallen’, and I have to say, I have not seen anything I’ve enjoyed so far, just so you know!”
I wanted to remind her about our agreement earlier before she got more out of control. I still wanted to visit Anne Frank’s house and a few museums. Instead of enjoying famous masterpieces by Van Gogh or Rembrandt, I was in the Red Light District, passing in front of glass doors where sexy ladies dressed in provocative lingerie waved and blew kisses.
After a couple more blocks, our group stopped at an 800 year old church ‘Oude Kerk’, standing tall and impressive, and I was utterly surprised. Usually in normal cities, religious places are not located next to brothels or cannabis coffee shops, but apparently Amsterdam wasn’t a city like any other. Brothels and churches are located side by side in this unique city. Our tour guide explained how the church and clergy conveniently got rich, thanks to the sinners who felt bad for visiting brothels after returning from their long overseas journeys. I understood that everything in Amsterdam was about money, even religion. Back in the day, feeling guilty for their sins, sailors hoped that their generous contributions to the church and paid confessionals would grant them forgiveness. I felt sorry for those poor souls with guilty consciences, robbed of their money! Sex! Sin! Religion! It was certainly a lucrative business in Amsterdam.
Our tour guide continued to talk enthusiastically as we passed more glass doors rented by prostitutes who were considered independent business owners and paid a good amount of taxes. How great, I thought! The city of Amsterdam found a way to legalize everything people did anyway and made good money. Dutch people were awkward but definitely smart.
Next, at an open area surrounded by glass doors, our purple-haired guide started to explain the basic services the prostitutes provided and the base rate for a private fifteen minutes behind the doors, as if she was talking about a fifteen minute pedicure service. Thanks to her detailed explanations, I learned more about the sex trade in Amsterdam than I ever wanted to know. As she started talking about kinky details, I decided that I could not stand it anymore. I left the group and walked towards the church’s courtyard to sit by a tree and wait for Sydney.