city of sin

The cool thing about Europe is that unlike in Canada where it takes you several hours and potentially hundreds of dollars just to get into another province (not that you would want to do that… ew, Alberta), it’s ridiculously easy and convenient to just drive into another country. Like, say, the Netherlands. Yeah, guess where this is going. This weekend, I went on my first outside-of-France trip of exchange to Amsterdam, land of windmills, cheese, and stroopwafel.

So let me give you the rundown on all the things I ate over the weekend because this is what matters most to me. Per usual, skip this if you don’t care about food (but then, why are we friends and why are you reading this?). First of all, oh my god stroopwafel. Despite having consumed way too many of these, I still don’t know how to pronounce their name. That doesn’t matter, though. What does matter is that they are perfection in a bite: crisp, golden waffle cookies that sandwich chewy caramel, lightly spiced with notes of cinnamon and nutmeg. Amazing. You know what else is amazing though (nailed that segue): Dutch pancakes. Dutch pancakes are crisp on the edges and light and gorgeous – the textural lovechild of an American fluffy pancake and a thin French crêpe. I was fortunate enough to experience this twice over my time in Holland – once with bacon, apple, and golden raisins, and once with apple and vanilla ice cream. While I still struggle internally with whether I prefer those to crêpes, I do know with great certainty that I can never again eat at an IHOP. European food will ruin me. From what I gather, Dutch cuisine centers heavily around slow-stewed meat and potatoes dishes. For dinner Saturday night, a crowd of us headed to a quaint restaurant that I don’t recall the name of, but whose food I will never forget. I had bacon and confit pork tenderloin with marrow peas and mashed potatoes. The peas and mash were perfectly cooked and seasoned, and the tenderloin was so tender I could tear it with my fork before it melted beautifully in my mouth. Lastly, of course I had to sample some cheese while I was there. The bulk of Amsterdam’s cheese production seems to be gouda, but it comes in many flavours and forms. I ended up picking up a log of smoked gouda, which tastes vaguely like bacon and is one of the best things to ever happen to me.

Moving on to less edible attractions, I had to make the standard touristy rounds. I’d been to Amsterdam once before with my family, but it was very strictly scheduled as the kids were shuttled from one attraction to another. This time, I took my time and enjoyed just walking around and looking at everything. The canals were as beautiful as the architecture, which was very. Most of the houses and shops that lined the water were painted in bright primary colours, and many had domed, bell-shaped roofs that would look right at home in a fairy tale. Also, it was really really cold. I’d looked up the weather forecast before going but it didn’t account for the windchill, which rendered my leather jacket hopelessly inadequate for preserving body heat. This was especially painful while we stood in line for about an hour and a half to get into the Anne Frank museum, which was a very emotionally heavy but educational experience.

A feminist aside: I was talking to Caroline the other day about sex positivity. She was saying that she thinks in North America, we kind of forget the true meaning of the term. We know for the most part, for example, not to slut shame. What people wear or what they drink or whatever other personal decisions they make is nobody else’s damn business so long as they are happy and comfortable. But we still have a long way to go to removing stigma for things that are less normalized in North America, like sex work. I’m not fully familiar with sex work laws in Canada (which will soon be remedied by a Google search), but I know that several recent laws aim to eliminate it. North American culture tiptoes around topics like sex and drugs made taboo by legislation – which is, imho, utterly ridiculous. When we remove stigma, we allow greater access to things like support when needed. I could go on about this, but that isn’t really what this post is about. What it is about is my trip to the Netherlands, a country whose policies recognize and respect personal freedom and autonomy – both bodily and otherwise. Amsterdam’s Red Light District is one of the city’s most famous tourist attractions and a large contributor to its reputation as a “City of sin”. My walk through it was interesting, but what bothered me were the comments I heard made (predominately by white, drunk men) about the women displaying in the windows. While sex trafficking is still a pervasive and harmful issue, voluntary sex work isn’t as simple. Sex work doesn’t mean women don’t respect themselves or don’t deserve respect. Sex workers aren’t necessarily diseased, or criminals, or dirty, or addicted to drugs. That said, not all sex workers are empowered, and not all sex workers participate by choice. It’s important to recognize that people who enter this industry are diverse, as are their experiences and reasons for doing so. When we eliminate stigma surrounding it, we allow for the creation of a safer work environment. I’ve barely scratched the surface here, but I’ll leave this article as a starting point for anyone who’s interested in reading more.