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About The Hague

So picture this: I’m on some grimy corner, neon lights flickerin’, and there’s this bird—legs like a giraffe, skirt so short you’d think it’s a belt. I’m like, “Blimey, you’re a walkin’ health hazard!” She’d probably clock me one, but I’d deserve it. Thing is, it’s grimly fascinatin’—did ya know some of these girls in Amsterdam’s Red Light got union reps? Yeah, proper workers’ rights for shaggin’! Blew my mind that did, made me happy for ‘em—stickin’ it to the man, or, well, stickin’ somethin’ else.

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Finally, the day’s winding down. I’m exhausted, but I feel accomplished. I’m walking back through the Markt, and there’s this food truck. The smell hits me like a freight train. I’m starving! I grab a frikandel and a drink. Best decision ever. I sit down, munching away, and I see the sunset over the canal. It’s gorgeous.

More drug labs dismantled in NL last year; Meth labs more than tripled