For full functionality of this site it is necessary to enable JavaScript. Here are the instructions how to enable JavaScript in your web browser. Cameron Atfield finds that, despite efforts to clean it up, Amsterdam's infamous Red Light district is still seedy and sad. As I watch the couple having sex in front of me, I can't help but feel a little self-conscious about my new surrounds - and my fellow spectators.
This is my first taste of Amsterdam's famous live sex shows β and it's not quite what I expected. By submitting your email you are agreeing to Fairfax Media's terms and conditions and privacy policy. But within the walls of this dark, dingy theatre, I realised this was very different. This was a shared experience with strangers - not particularly pleasant strangers at that.
About 40 people are seated in the rows facing the stage. There are a few couples, a small group of women and one man sitting alone in the corner, with an overcoat probably at least three sizes too big. They whoop and holler their way through the entire "performance" - one even violently rips off his shirt.
The large security guards, discreetly positioned at the back of the room, watch with eagle eyes but don't make a move. Onstage, the couple go through their choreographed routine, almost robotic as they switch positions with utmost efficiency. Is this where you wanted to be? Where you thought your life would end up? Do you enjoy being watched? Or is this a means to an end, borne of financial desperation?
(mh\u003dAxtzQ30viD3yPQBS)14.jpg "Babes in Amsterdam")
But I will always wonder. When the couple is done sans happy ending, from what we can tell , they stand, smile and wave as they accept the applause well, whooping of the audience. They're followed by a succession of women performing various acts that can't really be described in any detail - needless to say, I'll never look at fruit salad the same way again.
