I’d drunk coffee in a café where Rastafarians played piano and cats lazed around on the tables amongst a heavy haze of smoke. I’d walked around the market stalls festooned with tulips and wooden clogs. I’d dodged trams and bicycles and I’d sat in the red light district watching men gawping through windows at women wearing little but ultra-violet lit bikinis. Now, full of experiences, I was tired and ready to escape the ‘Amsterdam’ vibe before I became too submerged. The canal seemed the obvious place to stroll and yet I still couldn’t seem to get away from that feeling of ‘hangover’ that descended upon me.

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