It’s hard to imagine that there could be something about a visit to Amsterdam that is more memorable than the sleazy brazen display of pink flesh in red windows. But there is. Because if you visit Amsterdam over New Year’s then without a doubt the main thing that you’ll remember, and indeed that will literally be sonically imprinted into your brain, are the fireworks. Fireworks are everywhere and everyone gets in on the action. And I’m not talking about the organised pretty kind of fireworks that might be timed to music and make you go “oooh, aaahhh”, though there were those as well. The memorable ones I’m talking about are the ones that are set off in a hugely crowded narrow street by vast numbers of random kids and scream and hiss like banshees while spewing out blinding plumes of toxic smoke, or are accompanied by seemingly endless incessant bangs so loud that you can feel your insides vibrate. The kind that have names like “Concussion Powder” or “Bullet Hit” and generally make you yell “arrrgghhhh, mother fucker!” while clutching your heart which is desperately trying to make up the beats it just skipped. And just to add a little more peril to the already terrifying feeling, don’t forget that all these crazy arse pyrotechnics are being dispensed by drunk, stoned, mushied-up crazy folk, in the middle of a very very large crowds of drunk, stoned, mushied-up people. Seriously nuts! Someone mentioned that human’s obsession with fireworks on New Year’s Eve originated from the desire to scare away ghosts and evil spirits in preparation for the New Year. I have no idea if this is true, but the way they do them in Amsterdam sure as hell scared me.
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