The night is just beginning, the terraces are full and a snippet of a Dutch sentimental song is drifting from a pub. In the Red Light District there are a ladies behind the windows who look at Mark approvingly, but they refrain from really ogling him because he has me on his arm. There are drunken tourists, and a vagrant type is vomiting over the railing of a bridge. There is no doubt that Amsterdam is a unique city. 'Her...