The next stop in our European adventures brought us to Amsterdam, famous for it’s loose drug and sex laws. One of our first sights was a pot grow house. All legal baby.

We only had a few days there, so we quickly rented some bikes to get around. Taking a break in one of many interesting downtown plazas.


Three in the morning and hungry? Just grab yourself a burger and fries out of a slot in the wall!


The infamous “Red Light” district. You can see why they call it that. Each girl (or their pimp) rents a window.


Need some vitamins? Internet? What about psychedelic mushrooms?


50 Euro and you can hang out with her for a while, maybe she could help file your taxes. All of the sex workers are unionized.


Your friendly neighborhood Applegate gives a wave during our 3 days of constant bike riding.


Yep, here she is. The Heineken brewery.


Amsterdam is the most bike friendly city in the world. Here is the proof, a floating parking lot just for bikes.


Who da thunk? A church in the middle of the Red Light district. There are over 100 sex workers positioned directly around this church.


Alex and I decided it would be a good idea to go in search of the wind mills that make Holland famous. Our first step was boarding a ferry across the river.


We needed to get across another river so we found the nearest bridge and began biking. Well, I guess biking across a bridge is a major offense in Amsterdam, and we were quickly arrested and taken to jail.


On the way to jail, the cops were nice enough to take us by our first wind mill which we biked so long and hard to find.

The back of their Mercedes sports cop car was a bit of a squeeze for Alex and me.


This half smoked joint on the side walk of the police station really made me think. So you can hire hookers and do a variety of drugs, but the second you bike across a bridge, you get arrested and fined 95 Euro. Interesting.


This is a 95 Euro cup of hot chocolate.


After being taken to the bank so we could post our own bail and pay the fine, we hopped back on our bikes in search of some more wind mills.


Roaming the alley ways, I was approached by an undercover police woman who warned me of pimps that liked to beat up photographers. I told her I would take my chances.

There were hundreds of Scotts in town for a football match, all wearing kilts. This one had a few too many and resorted to laying his head in his skirt in front of The Bulldog.

Well, thats all for Amsterdam. More Europe adventures to follow.