This was not the first place in the city we visited. Nor was it the second or third or fourth.

And we came close to not visiting at all.

But the reality, at least among English speakers, is that one of the first questions we would be asked about Amsterdam, when back in Abu Dhabi, is … “Did you go to the red-light district?”

So, to forestall the crestfallen “oh, you didn’t?” reactions … a pass through the neighborhood was our last “tourist” action of our 40 hours in the capital of The Netherlands.

And?Curious. Interesting. Sad. Pretty much exactly what you may have seen in TV or film.

To backtrack …

We first had dinner. The next morning, we took a one-hour tour of the canals. We went to the Rijksmuseum, the Louvre of Amsterdam, closed for 10 years for refurbishment till 2013, and saw The Night Watch. (I like it; Leah less so.) A very Dutch museum.

We crossed the square to the Van Gogh Museum. Waited out the line to get inside, and did the three floors of the exhibits.

(Like several of the great artists — Picasso comes to mind — the hometown doesn’t have the great artist’s best-known pieces. Van Gogh certainly fits that pattern. The Musee d’Orsay, in Paris, seems to have more of Vincent’s good stuff.)

We went back north a bit to go to the flower market, a long street with dozens of stalls with flowers and bulbs. We looked at every one for the no-water flowers that were such a sensation in Abu Dhabi in February … without success. Though one, at least, had bare bulbs he insisted would thrive with no water and without being planted.

Oh, and there was a break in the middle of all that for a very large vanilla soft-serve cone.

We returned to the B&B where we stayed, took a nap, thought of not going anywhere, considering it was raining lightly and was about 50 degrees …

But it struck me: “I will be asked about the red-light district.”

So we summoned the energy to go back out, to say we had been there.

The red-light district here is in a neighborhood know as De Wallen, one of the oldest of the city. It is just a block or two east of the main road that comes from Central Station.

First, we walked straight into and across it. Coming from the west, the neighborhood gets a little seedier for a few blocks, from a steak house to cannabis cafes, and then to the heart of it, where women in bikinis are posing behind glass walls.

We kept walking, and when you cross a particular canal … the red-light district is suddenly over. And it becomes a regular neighborhood with a small Chinatown.

We found a place to eat, at a nice tavern that was 1) warm and 2) dry and served some hearty food. Spare ribs and fries with mayonnaise, for example. As much bread as I could eat. Some Springbok beer.

After dinner, it was semi-dry, and we decided to take a swing back through De Wallen.

The crowd had picked up; it was about 11:30. Most of the people there appeared to be tourists (I heard American accents repeatedly), and overwhelmingly male, though we were not the only couple in the area.

One particular street, on either side of a canal, seems to have a preponderance of the women behind glass waving and smiling, and sometimes opening a door a crack, to invite inside a customer.

A couple of observations.

–The women seem more attractive than one would expect of professional sex workers. Almost Barbie-like, in some cases; I actually thought I was looking at mannequins. (Apparently, many of them are from eastern Europe and were lured to Amsterdam by criminals who take their passports and send them into the sex trade, where they can make, apparently, 1,000 euros in a night, though they may have to give much of it back to a pimp.)

–The atmosphere is very businesslike, almost sterile, and most of the men milling about seemed much more like lookers than buyers. Maybe that changes later in the night.

The most exuberant group we encountered were a bunch of young people on a pub crawl, who were wearing T-shirts that read, “Amsterdam red-light pub crawl: A night you won’t remember but never forget!”

(They were being shepherded by a bellowing young man, and I wonder if “organizing pub crawls” is something you put on your resume. It does involve some logistics and leadership, getting a bunch of drunk kids up and down a street, and then into the pub for their shots …)

Oh, and one silly moment. As the crawlers went past us, a flirting American kid said to a French girl, “What is the popular drink in France?” We know what he meant; what is the popular mixed drink at the moment? But the French tend not to do mixed drinks. We couldn’t hear what the French girl said, but the American kid said: “So, red or white?” Wine. It was just a particularly hapless pickup moment. Maybe more time on the crawl would make him more glib.

The windows with the women (50 euros for 15 minutes, by the way, and that includes the prostitute’s undressing and dressing time) gave way to cannabis shops and cafes, and then to dozens of pizza shops (for stoners with the munchies, apparently) … and then, bang, we were out of it again, and back on the main street leading from the train station into the heart of the city.

On the tram-ride back to the B&B, I mulled over the notion that Amsterdam, to many, is best known for its red-light district.

Which is unfortunate, because so much goes on here. Lots of culture and activities and friendly people who nearly all speak English and are polite enough to leave you with the idea that tourists in their city pleases them inordinately.

Turns out, Amsterdam is trying to shut down the district, or the prostitution, at least. It seems to involve a lot of human trafficking, and criminal gangs, and abuse, and the city is buying up the old building where the windows are.

(Typically, the Dutch are less concerned about “sin” than those lured into it under threats or other coercion. I asked our B&B host if she found it unfortunate Amsterdam is perhaps best known for very public prostitution and cannabis consumption … and she was less concerned with that than the notion of women involved in the business who never wanted to be.)

Still, a place with the Rijksmuseum and all sorts of sights … I knew I could not go back to the office and say, “Nope; didn’t do the red-light district.” It would be like going to Nevada and never entering a casino.

De Wallen is too securely a part of Amsterdam’s reputation.