Amsterdam
IF AMERICA WERE RULED by a triumvirate of Larry Flynt, the Mayflower Madam, and the late Dr. Timothy Leary, it would look pretty much like Amsterdam today.
Since many of the city's historic sites border its Red Light District (locally referred to as de Walletjes -- "the little walls"), visitors are struck by stark contrasts.
On the one hand, there's the Oude Kerk. Begun in the 13th century, it is the oldest and quite possibly the loveliest Protestant church in the Netherlands, with its oak-encased organ and a stained-glass window picturing the death of the Virgin Mary, in the Lady Chapel. But beyond the main entrance of the church, one quickly descends from the eternal to the infernal.
Running along the canals in Amsterdam's old city is an area roughly a mile in length crammed with porn shops, live-sex shows ("The Sex Palace: sadomasochism, teen sex, animal sex -- three shows -- live girls -- simply the best!"), bikini-clad hookers behind glass doors, and coffee houses selling pot, hash, and psychedelic mushrooms.
Amsterdam is the sex and drugs capital of Europe. Worldwide, Bangkok is its only rival. This once-Calvinist metropolis, with its quaint canal-side architecture, has become a druggies' Disneyland and playground of the sex-obsessed. Voyeurs can sample videos of the most bizarre acts imaginable. Shoppers browse in the Porno Supermarket offering "films, books, magazines, videocassettes and sex aides." The most popular souvenirs are socks decorated with pictures of marijuana leaves and boxer shorts displaying cavorting condoms.
For those seeking livelier entertainment, there are establishments with names like Club Rosa and the Banana Bar, offering everything from solo performances with fruit to copulating couples and groups engaged in sexual gymnastics. "Come on, sir. We have some really hot sex here," said a promoter at one of the theaters.
Holland is home to an estimated 30,000 ladies of the evening, morning, and afternoon. The most visible manifestation of the world's oldest profession is the window girls. Grouped geographically (one street has Africans, another Asians, a third blond, Nordic types), the district's hookers are weary and worn. In their '60s beach attire, they can barely manage a half-smile at male passers-by. Their tiny cubicles are equipped with a massage table, chair, and lamp. When a customer is being serviced, window curtains are discreetly drawn across the doors.
The window girls appeal largely to those with limited means or impaired senses. For the upscale market, Amsterdam has clubs. There, the girls are young and pretty, mostly Dutch. An hour with one of them is roughly three times the price of a cubicle courtesan (almost exclusively foreign workers). The clubs will send a driver to pick you up at your hotel ("no extra charge"). One advertises a jungle room and a presidential suite, though no replica of Clinton's Oval Office.
In October, the Dutch parliament voted to legalize brothels. Given the openness of these fleshpots (they advertise on street signs), why bother -- other than to put the government's seal of approval on a thriving business? The industry brings in hundreds of millions in tourist dollars annually for the Dutch.
But Amsterdam isn't only for lovers. Next to the Cannabis Connoisseur's Club ("Number One in Hemp Seed") is The Hash, Marijuana, Hemp Museum, with displays showing how different cultures through the ages have been enriched by addiction. Here a cult has grown up -- adults worshipping vegetation. At nearby Oosterhout, psychedelic tourists can reverently caress any of 2,000 marijuana plants on display at the Cannabis Castle. "It's the most beautiful plant in the world," gushes co-owner Linda Dronkers. "It's very spiritual. You have to give yourself completely to the plant."
Many have. As I walked through the prurient precinct, two young cops advised me to watch my wallet, camera, and fillings. Patrons meander out of coffee houses with names like The Flying Dutchman, Extase, and Pick Up The Pieces. The more than 1,500 of these joints throughout the Netherlands are having a definite impact on the quality of life. Crime is rampant. The drugs are cheap, but still too costly for those not capable of much effort. Some sweep sidewalks or run errands for the hookers. Mostly they beg or steal. The Dutch Ministry of Justice reported a 25 percent rise in violent crimes between 1991 and 1996 (a period when crime rates fell steadily in the United States). In various surveys, almost 75 percent of Dutch voters rank law and order as their primary concern.
Crime is only one symptom of the nation's drug policy. (Though not legal, so-called soft drugs have been decriminalized.) The Ministry of Health reported a 250 percent increase in teen marijuana use between 1988 and 1992. Quoted in an article in the May/June issue of Foreign Affairs, Dr. J. A. Wallenberg, director of the Jellinek Clinic, Holland's best-known drug rehab center, observes: "We have indulged ourselves in a kind of blind optimism in Holland concerning cannabis. . . . It can and does produce a chronically passive individual . . . someone who is lazy, who doesn't want to take initiatives, doesn't want to be active -- the kid who'd prefer to lie in bed with a joint in the morning rather than getting up and doing something."
To explain the phenomenon of Sodom among the tulips, guidebooks note that the Dutch have a history of tolerance. There may be more involved. The Netherlands has the lowest church attendance in Europe, itself the most secular continent. Many of Amsterdam's beautiful churches have been turned into museums to faith on the verge of extinction; others are municipal offices.
A short trolley ride from the Red Light District is the Rijksmuseum, with its incomparable collection of 17th-century art. The display starts with altar art and moves on to scenes of domesticity and marital contentment, like Frans Hals's "Wedding Portrait of Isaac Abrahamsz Massa and Beatrix van der Laen." I stopped in front of Nicolaes Maes's "Old woman at prayer." The subject's eyes are closed. Her hands are together in supplication. A look of tranquility lights the withered face. On a nearby window ledge stand an hourglass and a Bible. Time moves swiftly and eternity beckons. From a culture that produced such sublime beauty, Holland's sex and drugs tourism seems all the sadder.
There is a weariness to all of this. The relentless pursuit of sensory indulgence ends in that old ennui. Some fear that Amsterdam is a harbinger. Or is it the sexual revolution and drug culture gasping for air -- barely living proof of the ultimate boredom and futility of pleasure divorced from higher values?
Don Feder is a Boston Herald writer and syndicated columnist.