I LOVE AMSTERDAM
Artist unknown. Postcard purchased at the Amsterdam Flea Market.
It was March 2001, in the city of Amsterdam, “Kingdom of the Netherlands,” a rich, beautiful, and lovely city, later designated “World Book Capital” by UNESCO in 2008, renowned far and wide for its abundance of culture and sex, where the words of Saint Augustine once rang true: “Prostitutes act in the world like the bilge of a ship or the sewer of a palace: Remove the sewer, and you will fill the palace with stench. Similarly, with respect to the bilge: Remove prostitutes from the world, and you will fill it with sodomy.”
On March 21st, a Friday declared by UNESCO for the first time as “World Poetry Day” during its 30th General Conference in Paris in 1999, I traveled to a Literary Gathering that weekend, from Friday to Sunday, in Amsterdam. I was invited by World Poetry, an invitation I accepted, although I had to pay a registration fee for an identification card with a blue lanyard to wear around my neck, plus all travel, accommodation, and living expenses.
This Gathering was held under the theme “Peace and Love Through Poetry,” and poets from all over the world: Canada, China, Colombia, India, Israel, Japan, Korea, Puerto Rico, Spain (myself), Switzerland, Tunisia, and the USA—gathered to listen to and read poetry and present books. The voices of the attending poets resonated throughout the hall, their many languages translated into English throughout the day.
Among everyone present, the Koreans and Japanese stood out the most, creating a genuine connection of poetic brotherhood. We were able to listen to each other and be together united by the desire to bring about Peace and Love in the World and to change these difficult times we are living through.
On Thursday afternoon, we had our tickets and were to meet at the Met Hotel Amsterdam, 3.8 km from Vondelpark, the Van Gogh Museum, and the Moco Museum, both 4 km away. Most of the participants were staying there. I stayed at the Rembrandt Square Hotel, located in the lively Rembrandt Square, just over a 10-minute walk from Dam Square and the Rijksmuseum.
The poetry readings took place in the morning from 10:00 to 12:00. The afternoons were free for everyone to do as they pleased.
On the first day, March 21st, the presentation took place with a greeting from the Delegate for Culture of the Amsterdam City Council, thanking us for holding this Literary Encounter open to everyone and wishing us every success.
I took a moment to approach her and ask if I could meet with her the following Saturday, as I wanted to give her some gifts from my city of Burgos. She told me to come to her office at 12:30 after the poetry reading.
I did so, and she received me very kindly. I gave her a miniature figure of the Fountain of Flora and a gold-plated pin of a lady with the city’s coat of arms. She gave me a beautiful navy blue silk tie with an imperial ship embroidered in the center, which I always wear to weddings, communions, and baptisms.
She also gave me a Swiss watch, which I put on as soon as I left the City Hall, and which I later gave to a sex worker. On this first day, before noon, I read my poems from “Exquisite Poetry,” which included references to La Celestina (The Calixto and Melibea’ Loves) and Dulcinea del Toboso (Don Quixote’s platonic lover).
In the afternoon, I went to visit the high-roof barges anchored in the canals, where it’s legal to consume marijuana, hashish, magic mushrooms, and even marijuana pastries, with edible bulbs planted in large pots, and on some, to have sex; the owners encouraged you to visit the Temple of Venus, the Erotic Museum, as well as the marijuana cafes and massage parlors offering happy endings.
I resolved not to attend the Encounter again until the farewell day, Sunday.
From the first moment I started trying everything, Amsterdam tasted like sex and marijuana to me. On Saturday, after my visit to the Delegate of Culture, I spent the entire day exploring the city’s more sensual areas, such as the Red Light District, also known in Dutch as “De Wallen,” where prostitution is offered from behind windows.
Around two in the afternoon, I reached into my pocket, took out some money, gave it to a beautiful prostitute, and pulled out my penis, intending to give her three or more good stabs. But, since I was already hard, I found myself ejaculating next to the bed, unable to do anything, my semen left for the use of her establishment.
Afterwards, I had time to visit Madame Tussauds, located in Dam Square, where I spent the whole night partying with hippies and young prostitutes, to whom I said, showing them my erect penis:
-Do you want to be my girlfriend? Do you want to taste this good stuff?
They answered me, grumpily:
-Get thee behind me, Satan!
Go to the Red Light District, or fuck off. Or suck your a dick like a dog.
I also walked past gay clubs, but I didn’t go in, not even out of curiosity; although they had some gay men and others dressed as women at the door inviting us in.
On Sunday, at ten in the morning, or maybe ten-thirty, I went to the best flea market in Amsterdam, the IJ-Hallen Market, which is the largest market in Europe and attracts visitors from all over the world. There I bought this beautiful postcard by an unknown artist, which reminds me of the service I received from a beautiful prostitute on a barge on one of the main canals; I don’t know if it was the Herengracht, Prinsengracht, or Keizersgracht, all fed by the Amstel River.
There, in the restroom, a pretty young woman was offering her cunt while sitting on the toilet. Behind three or four perverted men, who looked Chinese or Korean to me, I waited for half an hour longing for her to open her hole after cleaning her cunt with a sponge and drying it with a dish towel.
I gave her a quickie, asking her as I came:
-Bardomera, do you never let me penetrate your back hole?
She answered with a smile:
-No. This is my only position.
Before leaving, I gave her the Swiss watch that the Delegate of Culture had given me.
-Why this? she asked.
-Because I was satisfied.
The truth is that the watch had stopped around five in the morning.
Horror Sleaze Trash 