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Amsterdam women

The Netherlands, 2000 —

I don't think this page is well-written, but it's a record of the time and some of what I was feeling, so I'm going to leave it.
Several factors influenced me to go to Amsterdam, as the first stop outside of my native United States.

Some friends were going to be there [though they never made it;] Amsterdamers speak English; I could smoke there; and, of course, I wouldn't discount the effect of the opening scene of Pulp Fiction. I wanted to come to Europe, didn't know where to start. These influences, none very decisive individually, were good enough together.

I did feel strongly that I wanted to come to Europe. There were different reasons for this, as well.

I had some idea that European women wouldn't be as harsh as American women. For that purpose, Amsterdam was a sore disappointment.

Amsterdam women didn't make me feel too good. Some of them hurt my feelings.

Amsterdam women are sharp. They'll make your ears lie back.

(Yeah, I know.... But it's as true as a generalization can be, I think. That is, not completely true, and not always true. [My friend Charmian said "maybe it's just you." Maybe that was part of it....])

When an Amsterdam woman says to you "Wat?," you know you've been corrected. She'll do that just if you're not completely clear and confident about what you're saying, or asking. Amsterdam women will make you wither up inside, and crawl away.