There’s an old Indian saying – “do not judge a man until you’ve walked two moons in his moccasins.” That’s a lot of moonwalking and, when you’re in the Netherlands, an uncomfortable trot in wooden clogs.

Nevertheless, I squeezed into a pair (metaphorically, of course) and trotted to an infamous ‘coffee shop’ in the Red Light District. (Where else would I suggest when accompanying my boss on a business trip?)

It was horribly garish. And utterly uninspired. A Rastafarian at the counter, toad stools for chairs and Japanese tourists sucking on spliffs, making peace signs for pictures.

The ‘buffalo soldier’ at the bar turned down the music, the crowd sang loudly and while everyone else got high I thought to myself, this is a low.

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