Amelia Volendam Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Rotterdam

Oi mate, it’s me, Bond—James Bond, suave as fuck, “shaken, not stirred.” So, let’s chat bout findin a prossie, yeah? Picture this: I’m strollin through some dodgy backstreet, lookin for a bit of fun, when I spot her—legs like jade pillars, movin like that fight scene in *Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon*. “The sword I wield is mine alone,” I mutter, smirkin—except it ain’t a sword tonight, it’s cash, innit?

So you want to book a sex worker?

So, I’m wandering around, and I hit up the Dijk. It’s this long street by the water, and it’s packed with tourists. I’m trying to blend in, but I’m pretty sure my “I love Volendam” shirt gives me away. I see this cute café, and I’m like, “I need coffee.” I order a cappuccino, and the barista is super chill. We start chatting about the best places to eat. He’s like, “You gotta try the kibbeling!” I’m like, “What’s that?” He laughs and says, “Fried fish, man!” I’m sold.

Volendam visits St. John’s