20 hectic, fantastic and dreamy hours in the 'dam (I/II)
Posted: Wed 28th May 2008 07:41 pm
Hey there everyone!
Here’s a quickie (the trip, not the read), 20 fast and smoky hours in Amsterdam, courtesy of a very good friend. (Skip the first four-six paragraphs to get to the “juicy bits”)
It all started Thursday last at around two in the afternoon. I was busy at work, actually in a meeting with about twenty-two other people, all of whom there at an insanely high hourly wage (unreasonable in some cases, too little in others), when my phone (luckily on vibrate) rang. I didn’t recognize the number and since I am involved in work that has me contacting all kinds of people (allow me to be a little vague, it has proved prudent in here) I had to answer it, not knowing who it might be… It turned out it was a close friend of mine, with whom I have not spoken for quite a while for reasons I will not go into here, and since I was quite busy I asked him if he could possibly call me back a little later in the afternoon, to which he agreed. Immediately after I received a sms-message from my friend (let’s call him L for future references), which briefly read: “Hey dude, just wanted to know if you and the gf would like to come with me to AMS this weekend?”
I was quite surprised, and a bit excited, but since I was at work, the finances weren’t exactly inviting towards a trip to AMS and my gf and my own schedule I almost dismissed the opportunity right there and then. Luckily I waited to make up my mind, and told the gf the news when I got back from work. She was equally excited (and puzzled), but after having talked a little more at depth with our mutual friend we agreed that he should come to our place (being approx. 2 hours drive, in the right [=towards AMS] direction) while we figured out how to work our schedule around, what looked at the time, to be a 48 hour+ trip to the ‘dam, all paid for by our friend. (!!!!!!)
Long story short, my gf’s boss was (and still is) a real fracking pig, asshole, mother******, etc, and would not let her off even if she had (which she did) others to cover for her. Well, late Thursday night (I guess it was ca. four in the a.m.) we settled on a compromise; my friend and I would go alone, for 24 hours, and bring home a little treat for the gf if possible.
So come Friday morning I fixed a few things at work, called a few hostels without success, finally got thru to the flying pig uptown and booked two beds for the night, went to exchange some currency with L and we were off.
After an eventless trip through northern Germany and a quick drive towards the ‘dam we hit the Amsterdam metro-area, only to be stuck in gridlock for almost two hours before arriving at Arena, where we usually park, only to find this (P1 facility) closed of to normal traffic and being diverted towards some ill-defined “other facility”. Running on fumes and both VERY eager to get to the city centre we finally found an empty facility, dumped the car and headed for the Biljmer ArenA Metro station, from whence it is only a quick ride to my personal nirvana. Well, as our luck had it at that time, things would not be so, as soon as we entered the station and asked a nice, but a little too smart, female police officer for directions an alarm sounded and the station was evacuated due to a fire alarm going of.
Pissed of beyond belief, more than impatient and ready to kill the next person to cause us any kind of delay with our stares alone we headed for the taxis, got in a cab and conveyed our urgency to him. Fortunately he was just the guys to get us to where we needed in a fast, but safe and cheap (only 22 €) way.
We arrived at the Flying Pig Uptown at approximately a quarter past eight in the evening. The weather in the ‘dam was absolutely wonderful, I would guesstimate it to be around 22 degrees C in the shade, still sunny and no wind to speak of, just perfect. We entered the ‘pig and went downstairs to the bar where we, even on the stairs down, before entering, would be greeted by a heavenly sent of fine herb and hasj, cheerfull voices, music and laughter. We had arrived.
A little anxious about our reservations, it was past eight in the evening and I was a little insecure towards how much I stressed our late arrival earlier in the day, we approached the very friendly staff who expediently and professionally, with a humorous and welcoming attitude, checked us in, gave us some quick directions and let us loose on the city.
We quickly stashed our very limited luggage (consisting of only one small backpack, besides the one we would be carrying around with us for the stash, gear etc), and I agreed with L that I would run of to de Rokerij (being the closest of the shop within my standards I could remember the location of, of the top of my head) while he freshened himself up a bit after driving for six hours straight. It was his first time in Amsterdam so he had no concept of what kind of a creature a Rokerij is, from whence it cometh nor what it has to offer. I was, however, about to enlighten him…
I ran of towards Leidseplein and caught a dutch bike-taxi dude relaxing a bit right by the intersection at the casino, asked him for an offer on a trip to de Rokerij and back to the ‘pig, and got in (he was very reasonable, and very mellow and cool to chat with while we drove).
(and here is where the fun really starts, it had been hectic, on the verge of being a right pain in the ass, getting to this point, but as you, my dear reader, will most likely agree, things were about to change)
We quickly arrive at de Rokerij and I practically leap the six or so meters from the bike-taxi to the dealers counter and never forgetting my manners greeting him nicely and asked him for his advice on which of the Rifman hashes he had he would recommend if I was going for a little darker Moroccan hash, he quickly pointed me to the Rifman Sharriffa, @ 10 € per gram, of which I took one and a half. I then asked him for a recommendation for a good, strong sativa, and he, without even hesitating, nor looking, pointed directly to the NLX, two grams of this in the pockets and a quick chat with the budtender later I was back in the bike-taxi heading for the ‘pig.
I arrived at the bar to find L sitting with an ice cold Palm in his right hand and a big grin on his face. I quickly, but carefully, proceeded to skin up a joint of the Sharriffa and one of the NLX (for the road, we planned). I proceeded to light up the hasj joint. The Sharriffa deserves a little attention here; when I got it out of the baggie it was dark, almost like a light Nepal, sticky and fragrant. It looked to be a very decent smoke, and when I held a flame close for just two seconds to see what was up with this here good looking thing in my hand the where the heat dissipated almost went completely liquid immediately and gave of a wonderful rich aroma which tickled the nostrils with a promise of greatness to come. I put about 0,45 (guesstimate, but I tend to be really really precise when it comes to the Moroccans, don’t ask me why ) in the joint to keep the flavour of the hash intact, not to drown it out with a too heavy smoke, it would prove to be a very nice quantity (mixed with a “100” size _toasted_ ziggy).
I lit up the joint and it caught fire immediately, forcing me to do my probably silly-looking “put-out-the-flame-but-don’t-fuck-the-tip-dance’blow’n’wave”, which btw is such a nice thing to be forced to do, ya know it be da shit then… ;=) The scent the hash gave off was nothing short of spectacular after all the shit we went through to get to this point, and the taste rivalled it for my attention. I sat back and let the smooth smoke fill my lungs, we had truly arrived. The first pull on the joint gave me a slight euphoric feeling, which I mainly attribute to the circumstances, and oiled up my throat instantly, the taste was that of the best Moroccan hashes out there, with all the textures and complexities, the subtle hints of spices and the richness and depth of flavour only found here, in our heaven on earth. The creamy and smooth character was emphasized by the wonderful wave of pure THC high that followed immediately after the second pull of the joint, a high magnified successively by every inhaled lungful to come. After the first half of this very satisfying encounter with the fruits of the gods we headed of towards the Leidseplein in a sense of intense euphoria, Vondel Park with its merry voices and enticing scenery to our left and a whole world of dreams ahead.
I finished of the joint whilst walking towards the Leidse Plein (L, whilst being quite a heavy smoker was, although not explicitly, quite aware that it would be prudent not to try and keep up with me during the next 24 hours if he were to remember anything from the trip, indeed if he were to stay erect for more than a few hours), the taste never got harsh even though I did not treat the joint with the care I normally do and was quite greedy in my inhales and it, as a consequence, burned a little hot.
We were lucky enough to catch a young and very charming brunette to carry our high and happy bodies from the Leidse Plein to Dam Square in her bike-taxi (the perfect way to travel in the ‘dam for those of you who have not gone/tried yet!). Despite my 192 cm., 106 kilogram frame and L’s not inconsiderable 80some kilograms, the enticing female driver was still able to carry on in an very articulate and interesting conversation on the finer points of Dutch-Danish relations and cultural similarities and differences between these to closely related countries. Yeah yeah, I know, I get fucking boring to some people frequently, it is a occupational hazard I guess, but big part of my working life consist of academic conversation and philosophical inquiry, which, when you are under the influence of an intense cerebral high (read constantly in the ‘dam) spills into my free-time activities and conversations…
Arriving at Dam Square we took in the atmosphere and virtually floated up Damrak, heading to what would be Ls first coffeeshop experience. I made a point of picking the CS we would go to, and since L is a musician with a flair for the melodic himself I choose to take him to 420 café for some SSH and some Zappa/classic rock, plus one of the best settings in any coffeeshop, IMO, out there, save a select few.
We entered, greeted the staff and guest and proceeded towards the counter for Ls first encounter with the world of budtenders, volcanos and wonder that has to be experienced to be understood and believed. The very nice, American, budtender swiftly pulled out the Tupperware container with the Super Silver Haze, @ 11 € per gram to my recollection, and held it under the light for us to take in. The smell was exactly as I remembered it, fragrant, clean and strong. The weed looked absolutely amazing under the lights, fresh with huge (approx. 8-14 grams) buds that glistened with crystals and magic. The budtender agreed with me that this weed was amongst his all time favourites, with the provision that it was, as he put it “sometimes just a little too strong”, and added that he “smoked a freaking lot” in his own opinion. I commented that in my opinion that, given the weed is clean, there is no such thing and suggested that he should stop being such a girl about it (of course with a smile on my lip and a wink in my eye). He laughed out loud and agreed to throw some of the SSH in the Volcano, which we, after ordering some drinks (pear Loosa is the Shizzznatt with SSH!! Shit with any weed! ), proceeded to inhale. L held a little back with the vape since it was his first time and since the budtender had been kind and foreseeing (obviously getting the “I wanna get realle fucking high in this one” vibe from me) enough to fill a giant baggie with everything 0,35 of SSH had to offer (dealer scale this time, not my guesstimating), I was in for a nice sit in with my favourite tool. The SSH was, as ever, a wonderful, satisfying and extremely fragrant and aromatic experience, if you have not had this weed from 420 yet it is more than worth the trip!
After I finished of the baggie and handed it over to the budtender again L was ready for some more and we lit up the NLX fatty (about half a gram, nicely grinded up, with a sprinkle of toasted tobacco for the burn). The NLX (from de Rokerij) was potent, very potent, by the looks of L after his first few hits from the fatty, the smell coming across the table to me from where he is seated is equally potent, sweet but with a bite to it that tells you to pay attention, to inhale. When he passed me the fatty I was immediately impressed with the strong and intense flavour and the almost instant rush of happy thoughts and enticing pulls in the corners of my lips; they are longing to smile, to laugh, to be merry. We start laughing and giggling (something it has been quite a while since I have done from smoking a joint!) almost to the brink of it being a bit silly, but then the high shifted and I was really beginning to feel the SSH (Vaping always creep up on me, I love it!
), I felt like I was in an elevator descending rapidly whilst an elf in my ear was blow-drying my brain with the dryer on “Cool’n’High”. I was feeling more than fresh and ready to kick it to the next CS, and then of to the Red Lights to let L have a look at the wonders that are to be found there, when I remembered that I promised myself to get my hands on some good hand-rubbed hash asap when in the ‘dam, so at an impulse I went to the counter and asked to see the Nepal (@ 10 € per gram). I was not disappointed, to say the least. Brought forth was a midnight black-rimmed beautiful half-sphere of the oiliest, fragrant (I could smell it as he opened the box) black hash you could imagine. The tender told me that he preferred the Nepal to the more expensive, top of the line charras (I seem to remember its name to be Manali cream, or some such), which he only found to be a little better on the taste but definitely not on the strength. That statement sealed the deal and I bought 2,5 grams of this glistening, finely textured hash.
We headed of towards Central CS, where I knew there would be some good deals, which L was looking for at that point (he btw paid for everything you will read us consume in this report, the trip there, the hostel, everything, save approx. 55 €I had laying around and brought, what a fucking buddy!). As some of you might have guessed the hour was passed the time Central was open (being at this time something like a quarter past ten to my recollection) and we changed our minds and headed to Coin CS (another personal favourite, staff is more than great, produce is good and it is very cozy and open from 07.00 to 01.00).
Walking in the door, after giving L a taste of the wonders of Warmoesstraat, I saw a familiar face behind the counter and went up to greet a good friend in one of the nicest, sometimes loudest, and definitely funniest budtenders working today. Matt was as always more than welcoming, offering me drinks and entertaining tales on the house as is his custom, among these a horrific story of his latest (and _last_) trip away from the ‘dam which resulted in him and his girlfriend being locked up for more than a week (at least afaik) in a Thailand jail (with lady boys, rapist, murderers and everything else the orient has to offer to boot) for having THC in their piss!!!! (WTF???!!!!). He ended up proposing through the bars of the jail, and they are, afaik, still happily married, never ever to leave the Netherlands again of their own free will! What a fucking story to go with a joint of the two grams of Moonshine ice-O (@ 37,5 per gram) he suggested us after a few questions that ended up in him saying “oh, it’s with that on, you are looking to really fuck with your heads are you?”. I guess we just could not hide it from a professional such as him. The smoke was, in spite of the steep price tag, very satisfying, it had a smooth lemony taste that ended in a spicy finish, whilst gripping the back of your nostrils and upper throat saying “I will fuck with you buddy”. The high came on almost instantly and was, as Matt had told us, very Sativa, giggly and a little dizzying, while taking you one trip full of waves of tingling sensations moving up your spine. Very tasty and potent indeed, although not a product I myself would bye owing to the price, but as I said, not my money and L insisted on “money is not an issue”.
After skinning up and smoking an extremely tasty joint of the Nepal and chatting a bit more to Matt, who agreed the Nepal was a tasty and good priced hash @ the 10 €s a gram, and a female regular (she has been there 80% of the times I have been to the Coin) who told quite explicit, yet entertaining, stories from her personal life (she is very attractive, sweet and charming, but surprisingly forthcoming), we headed of, another Nepal joint in my hand (the high was smooth and cerebral, just as I expected from top shelf hand-rubbed Nepal), towards the Red Lights.
We spent half an hour walking thru the charming streets gazing at the scenery and attractions, and then proceeded to the Bluebird to see what magic they could provide. The Bluebird looked a little quiet from a distance but a soon as we entered we found it to be just the right kind of full, with the usual friendly and diverse crowd. We headed directly for the two wonderful books, L stared in wonder at The Book of the Gods (the greenery for the uninitiated), while I was browsing in wonder through The Book of Dreams (the solids). I came upon the Afghaan Border @ an amazing 12,5 €s for 2,5 grams, and after seeing this exact deal recomende on this forum a few days back I could not refuse and immediately asked the budtender for a serving of that. When he returned I asked him for his recommendation on some weed and he pointed directly and silently to a baggie in the book. I let my eyes wander down his arm and over his hand, finally settling on the baggie his fingers are pointing to. My heart skips a beat, could it be? Why have I forgot, what has been the first thing I have looked for every time I was in the Bluebird, but not this time? What was the weed I had so long longed to smoke, to see if any of the hype was right?
If you know the Bluebird you’ve guessed it by now, it was the fabled Bluecheese. I purchased a bag without hesitating and went directly to roll a fatty with ca. 0,6 gs of the cheese in it. The first hit was puzzling; “ehm, huh? What was that taste?”. The second hit was an answer to that question: “It was fucking goooooood!”. It is hard to describe just what the Bluecheese tastes like (and I am usually not at a loss for words as this report demonstrates eloquently), descriptions such as “it tastes like cake, a good cake” “it taste like, well fuck if I know, it tastes good!” come to mind. The stone however I can describe! First of if was quite amazing how a weed would succeed in almost couch-locking me within a few hits, I mellowed right out, right there, and I had been running quite hot for quite some hours, actually right since the trip started to come to life the day before. I realised how I felt a bit drunk, without having touched alcohol for weeks, and commented on this to L, who laughingly consented to feeling the exact same feeling. It was very nice to be taken down a nutch without it fucking over our heads or sending us into at yawning fit looking for the nearest bucket red-bull and a heavy Sativa to get us going.
We agreed to smoke one more spliffy at Bluebird and bring another small one for the trip to t’ Nes, where I hoped to find some familiar faces and some Gulpener, good atmosphere and a place to get really serious about this whole smoking ourselves fucked business. We skinned up a spliffy of the Sharriffa and smoked that while we skinned up a spliffy of the Nepal for the road. The Sharriffa gave the Bluecheese (in addition to all the other strains and variants we had so far consumed) a nice twist and when we walked out the door after giving a big shout out to the bb staff for a terrific time and excellent service and gear I felt like I was walking on big balloons, another thing L agreed with. After getting my bearings (I honestly felt a little tipsy and was a bit lost for about twenty seconds in a part of the ‘dam I have absolutely no excuse to get lost in) we floated and bounced on our balloons down the street, stopping at New York Pizza for a few late night slice and a coke, ending up a t’ Nes at approx. half past midnight.
End of part one, part two will be up later tonight, right when I finish writing it up, shouldn’t be more than a few hours…
Cheers
SBX_DK
P.s. excuse the bad spelling and grammar, haven't had time to do a read through...
Here’s a quickie (the trip, not the read), 20 fast and smoky hours in Amsterdam, courtesy of a very good friend. (Skip the first four-six paragraphs to get to the “juicy bits”)
It all started Thursday last at around two in the afternoon. I was busy at work, actually in a meeting with about twenty-two other people, all of whom there at an insanely high hourly wage (unreasonable in some cases, too little in others), when my phone (luckily on vibrate) rang. I didn’t recognize the number and since I am involved in work that has me contacting all kinds of people (allow me to be a little vague, it has proved prudent in here) I had to answer it, not knowing who it might be… It turned out it was a close friend of mine, with whom I have not spoken for quite a while for reasons I will not go into here, and since I was quite busy I asked him if he could possibly call me back a little later in the afternoon, to which he agreed. Immediately after I received a sms-message from my friend (let’s call him L for future references), which briefly read: “Hey dude, just wanted to know if you and the gf would like to come with me to AMS this weekend?”
I was quite surprised, and a bit excited, but since I was at work, the finances weren’t exactly inviting towards a trip to AMS and my gf and my own schedule I almost dismissed the opportunity right there and then. Luckily I waited to make up my mind, and told the gf the news when I got back from work. She was equally excited (and puzzled), but after having talked a little more at depth with our mutual friend we agreed that he should come to our place (being approx. 2 hours drive, in the right [=towards AMS] direction) while we figured out how to work our schedule around, what looked at the time, to be a 48 hour+ trip to the ‘dam, all paid for by our friend. (!!!!!!)
Long story short, my gf’s boss was (and still is) a real fracking pig, asshole, mother******, etc, and would not let her off even if she had (which she did) others to cover for her. Well, late Thursday night (I guess it was ca. four in the a.m.) we settled on a compromise; my friend and I would go alone, for 24 hours, and bring home a little treat for the gf if possible.
So come Friday morning I fixed a few things at work, called a few hostels without success, finally got thru to the flying pig uptown and booked two beds for the night, went to exchange some currency with L and we were off.
After an eventless trip through northern Germany and a quick drive towards the ‘dam we hit the Amsterdam metro-area, only to be stuck in gridlock for almost two hours before arriving at Arena, where we usually park, only to find this (P1 facility) closed of to normal traffic and being diverted towards some ill-defined “other facility”. Running on fumes and both VERY eager to get to the city centre we finally found an empty facility, dumped the car and headed for the Biljmer ArenA Metro station, from whence it is only a quick ride to my personal nirvana. Well, as our luck had it at that time, things would not be so, as soon as we entered the station and asked a nice, but a little too smart, female police officer for directions an alarm sounded and the station was evacuated due to a fire alarm going of.
Pissed of beyond belief, more than impatient and ready to kill the next person to cause us any kind of delay with our stares alone we headed for the taxis, got in a cab and conveyed our urgency to him. Fortunately he was just the guys to get us to where we needed in a fast, but safe and cheap (only 22 €) way.
We arrived at the Flying Pig Uptown at approximately a quarter past eight in the evening. The weather in the ‘dam was absolutely wonderful, I would guesstimate it to be around 22 degrees C in the shade, still sunny and no wind to speak of, just perfect. We entered the ‘pig and went downstairs to the bar where we, even on the stairs down, before entering, would be greeted by a heavenly sent of fine herb and hasj, cheerfull voices, music and laughter. We had arrived.
A little anxious about our reservations, it was past eight in the evening and I was a little insecure towards how much I stressed our late arrival earlier in the day, we approached the very friendly staff who expediently and professionally, with a humorous and welcoming attitude, checked us in, gave us some quick directions and let us loose on the city.
We quickly stashed our very limited luggage (consisting of only one small backpack, besides the one we would be carrying around with us for the stash, gear etc), and I agreed with L that I would run of to de Rokerij (being the closest of the shop within my standards I could remember the location of, of the top of my head) while he freshened himself up a bit after driving for six hours straight. It was his first time in Amsterdam so he had no concept of what kind of a creature a Rokerij is, from whence it cometh nor what it has to offer. I was, however, about to enlighten him…
I ran of towards Leidseplein and caught a dutch bike-taxi dude relaxing a bit right by the intersection at the casino, asked him for an offer on a trip to de Rokerij and back to the ‘pig, and got in (he was very reasonable, and very mellow and cool to chat with while we drove).
(and here is where the fun really starts, it had been hectic, on the verge of being a right pain in the ass, getting to this point, but as you, my dear reader, will most likely agree, things were about to change)
We quickly arrive at de Rokerij and I practically leap the six or so meters from the bike-taxi to the dealers counter and never forgetting my manners greeting him nicely and asked him for his advice on which of the Rifman hashes he had he would recommend if I was going for a little darker Moroccan hash, he quickly pointed me to the Rifman Sharriffa, @ 10 € per gram, of which I took one and a half. I then asked him for a recommendation for a good, strong sativa, and he, without even hesitating, nor looking, pointed directly to the NLX, two grams of this in the pockets and a quick chat with the budtender later I was back in the bike-taxi heading for the ‘pig.
I arrived at the bar to find L sitting with an ice cold Palm in his right hand and a big grin on his face. I quickly, but carefully, proceeded to skin up a joint of the Sharriffa and one of the NLX (for the road, we planned). I proceeded to light up the hasj joint. The Sharriffa deserves a little attention here; when I got it out of the baggie it was dark, almost like a light Nepal, sticky and fragrant. It looked to be a very decent smoke, and when I held a flame close for just two seconds to see what was up with this here good looking thing in my hand the where the heat dissipated almost went completely liquid immediately and gave of a wonderful rich aroma which tickled the nostrils with a promise of greatness to come. I put about 0,45 (guesstimate, but I tend to be really really precise when it comes to the Moroccans, don’t ask me why
) in the joint to keep the flavour of the hash intact, not to drown it out with a too heavy smoke, it would prove to be a very nice quantity (mixed with a “100” size _toasted_ ziggy).I lit up the joint and it caught fire immediately, forcing me to do my probably silly-looking “put-out-the-flame-but-don’t-fuck-the-tip-dance’blow’n’wave”, which btw is such a nice thing to be forced to do, ya know it be da shit then… ;=) The scent the hash gave off was nothing short of spectacular after all the shit we went through to get to this point, and the taste rivalled it for my attention. I sat back and let the smooth smoke fill my lungs, we had truly arrived. The first pull on the joint gave me a slight euphoric feeling, which I mainly attribute to the circumstances, and oiled up my throat instantly, the taste was that of the best Moroccan hashes out there, with all the textures and complexities, the subtle hints of spices and the richness and depth of flavour only found here, in our heaven on earth. The creamy and smooth character was emphasized by the wonderful wave of pure THC high that followed immediately after the second pull of the joint, a high magnified successively by every inhaled lungful to come. After the first half of this very satisfying encounter with the fruits of the gods we headed of towards the Leidseplein in a sense of intense euphoria, Vondel Park with its merry voices and enticing scenery to our left and a whole world of dreams ahead.
I finished of the joint whilst walking towards the Leidse Plein (L, whilst being quite a heavy smoker was, although not explicitly, quite aware that it would be prudent not to try and keep up with me during the next 24 hours if he were to remember anything from the trip, indeed if he were to stay erect for more than a few hours), the taste never got harsh even though I did not treat the joint with the care I normally do and was quite greedy in my inhales and it, as a consequence, burned a little hot.
We were lucky enough to catch a young and very charming brunette to carry our high and happy bodies from the Leidse Plein to Dam Square in her bike-taxi (the perfect way to travel in the ‘dam for those of you who have not gone/tried yet!). Despite my 192 cm., 106 kilogram frame and L’s not inconsiderable 80some kilograms, the enticing female driver was still able to carry on in an very articulate and interesting conversation on the finer points of Dutch-Danish relations and cultural similarities and differences between these to closely related countries. Yeah yeah, I know, I get fucking boring to some people frequently, it is a occupational hazard I guess, but big part of my working life consist of academic conversation and philosophical inquiry, which, when you are under the influence of an intense cerebral high (read constantly in the ‘dam) spills into my free-time activities and conversations…
Arriving at Dam Square we took in the atmosphere and virtually floated up Damrak, heading to what would be Ls first coffeeshop experience. I made a point of picking the CS we would go to, and since L is a musician with a flair for the melodic himself I choose to take him to 420 café for some SSH and some Zappa/classic rock, plus one of the best settings in any coffeeshop, IMO, out there, save a select few.
We entered, greeted the staff and guest and proceeded towards the counter for Ls first encounter with the world of budtenders, volcanos and wonder that has to be experienced to be understood and believed. The very nice, American, budtender swiftly pulled out the Tupperware container with the Super Silver Haze, @ 11 € per gram to my recollection, and held it under the light for us to take in. The smell was exactly as I remembered it, fragrant, clean and strong. The weed looked absolutely amazing under the lights, fresh with huge (approx. 8-14 grams) buds that glistened with crystals and magic. The budtender agreed with me that this weed was amongst his all time favourites, with the provision that it was, as he put it “sometimes just a little too strong”, and added that he “smoked a freaking lot” in his own opinion. I commented that in my opinion that, given the weed is clean, there is no such thing and suggested that he should stop being such a girl about it (of course with a smile on my lip and a wink in my eye). He laughed out loud and agreed to throw some of the SSH in the Volcano, which we, after ordering some drinks (pear Loosa is the Shizzznatt with SSH!! Shit with any weed!
), proceeded to inhale. L held a little back with the vape since it was his first time and since the budtender had been kind and foreseeing (obviously getting the “I wanna get realle fucking high in this one” vibe from me) enough to fill a giant baggie with everything 0,35 of SSH had to offer (dealer scale this time, not my guesstimating), I was in for a nice sit in with my favourite tool. The SSH was, as ever, a wonderful, satisfying and extremely fragrant and aromatic experience, if you have not had this weed from 420 yet it is more than worth the trip!After I finished of the baggie and handed it over to the budtender again L was ready for some more and we lit up the NLX fatty (about half a gram, nicely grinded up, with a sprinkle of toasted tobacco for the burn). The NLX (from de Rokerij) was potent, very potent, by the looks of L after his first few hits from the fatty, the smell coming across the table to me from where he is seated is equally potent, sweet but with a bite to it that tells you to pay attention, to inhale. When he passed me the fatty I was immediately impressed with the strong and intense flavour and the almost instant rush of happy thoughts and enticing pulls in the corners of my lips; they are longing to smile, to laugh, to be merry. We start laughing and giggling (something it has been quite a while since I have done from smoking a joint!) almost to the brink of it being a bit silly, but then the high shifted and I was really beginning to feel the SSH (Vaping always creep up on me, I love it!
), I felt like I was in an elevator descending rapidly whilst an elf in my ear was blow-drying my brain with the dryer on “Cool’n’High”. I was feeling more than fresh and ready to kick it to the next CS, and then of to the Red Lights to let L have a look at the wonders that are to be found there, when I remembered that I promised myself to get my hands on some good hand-rubbed hash asap when in the ‘dam, so at an impulse I went to the counter and asked to see the Nepal (@ 10 € per gram). I was not disappointed, to say the least. Brought forth was a midnight black-rimmed beautiful half-sphere of the oiliest, fragrant (I could smell it as he opened the box) black hash you could imagine. The tender told me that he preferred the Nepal to the more expensive, top of the line charras (I seem to remember its name to be Manali cream, or some such), which he only found to be a little better on the taste but definitely not on the strength. That statement sealed the deal and I bought 2,5 grams of this glistening, finely textured hash.We headed of towards Central CS, where I knew there would be some good deals, which L was looking for at that point (he btw paid for everything you will read us consume in this report, the trip there, the hostel, everything, save approx. 55 €I had laying around and brought, what a fucking buddy!). As some of you might have guessed the hour was passed the time Central was open (being at this time something like a quarter past ten to my recollection) and we changed our minds and headed to Coin CS (another personal favourite, staff is more than great, produce is good and it is very cozy and open from 07.00 to 01.00).
Walking in the door, after giving L a taste of the wonders of Warmoesstraat, I saw a familiar face behind the counter and went up to greet a good friend in one of the nicest, sometimes loudest, and definitely funniest budtenders working today. Matt was as always more than welcoming, offering me drinks and entertaining tales on the house as is his custom, among these a horrific story of his latest (and _last_) trip away from the ‘dam which resulted in him and his girlfriend being locked up for more than a week (at least afaik) in a Thailand jail (with lady boys, rapist, murderers and everything else the orient has to offer to boot) for having THC in their piss!!!! (WTF???!!!!). He ended up proposing through the bars of the jail, and they are, afaik, still happily married, never ever to leave the Netherlands again of their own free will! What a fucking story to go with a joint of the two grams of Moonshine ice-O (@ 37,5 per gram) he suggested us after a few questions that ended up in him saying “oh, it’s with that on, you are looking to really fuck with your heads are you?”. I guess we just could not hide it from a professional such as him. The smoke was, in spite of the steep price tag, very satisfying, it had a smooth lemony taste that ended in a spicy finish, whilst gripping the back of your nostrils and upper throat saying “I will fuck with you buddy”. The high came on almost instantly and was, as Matt had told us, very Sativa, giggly and a little dizzying, while taking you one trip full of waves of tingling sensations moving up your spine. Very tasty and potent indeed, although not a product I myself would bye owing to the price, but as I said, not my money and L insisted on “money is not an issue”.
After skinning up and smoking an extremely tasty joint of the Nepal and chatting a bit more to Matt, who agreed the Nepal was a tasty and good priced hash @ the 10 €s a gram, and a female regular (she has been there 80% of the times I have been to the Coin) who told quite explicit, yet entertaining, stories from her personal life (she is very attractive, sweet and charming, but surprisingly forthcoming), we headed of, another Nepal joint in my hand (the high was smooth and cerebral, just as I expected from top shelf hand-rubbed Nepal), towards the Red Lights.
We spent half an hour walking thru the charming streets gazing at the scenery and attractions, and then proceeded to the Bluebird to see what magic they could provide. The Bluebird looked a little quiet from a distance but a soon as we entered we found it to be just the right kind of full, with the usual friendly and diverse crowd. We headed directly for the two wonderful books, L stared in wonder at The Book of the Gods (the greenery for the uninitiated), while I was browsing in wonder through The Book of Dreams (the solids). I came upon the Afghaan Border @ an amazing 12,5 €s for 2,5 grams, and after seeing this exact deal recomende on this forum a few days back I could not refuse and immediately asked the budtender for a serving of that. When he returned I asked him for his recommendation on some weed and he pointed directly and silently to a baggie in the book. I let my eyes wander down his arm and over his hand, finally settling on the baggie his fingers are pointing to. My heart skips a beat, could it be? Why have I forgot, what has been the first thing I have looked for every time I was in the Bluebird, but not this time? What was the weed I had so long longed to smoke, to see if any of the hype was right?
If you know the Bluebird you’ve guessed it by now, it was the fabled Bluecheese. I purchased a bag without hesitating and went directly to roll a fatty with ca. 0,6 gs of the cheese in it. The first hit was puzzling; “ehm, huh? What was that taste?”. The second hit was an answer to that question: “It was fucking goooooood!”. It is hard to describe just what the Bluecheese tastes like (and I am usually not at a loss for words as this report demonstrates eloquently), descriptions such as “it tastes like cake, a good cake” “it taste like, well fuck if I know, it tastes good!” come to mind. The stone however I can describe! First of if was quite amazing how a weed would succeed in almost couch-locking me within a few hits, I mellowed right out, right there, and I had been running quite hot for quite some hours, actually right since the trip started to come to life the day before. I realised how I felt a bit drunk, without having touched alcohol for weeks, and commented on this to L, who laughingly consented to feeling the exact same feeling. It was very nice to be taken down a nutch without it fucking over our heads or sending us into at yawning fit looking for the nearest bucket red-bull and a heavy Sativa to get us going.
We agreed to smoke one more spliffy at Bluebird and bring another small one for the trip to t’ Nes, where I hoped to find some familiar faces and some Gulpener, good atmosphere and a place to get really serious about this whole smoking ourselves fucked business. We skinned up a spliffy of the Sharriffa and smoked that while we skinned up a spliffy of the Nepal for the road. The Sharriffa gave the Bluecheese (in addition to all the other strains and variants we had so far consumed) a nice twist and when we walked out the door after giving a big shout out to the bb staff for a terrific time and excellent service and gear I felt like I was walking on big balloons, another thing L agreed with. After getting my bearings (I honestly felt a little tipsy and was a bit lost for about twenty seconds in a part of the ‘dam I have absolutely no excuse to get lost in) we floated and bounced on our balloons down the street, stopping at New York Pizza for a few late night slice and a coke, ending up a t’ Nes at approx. half past midnight.
End of part one, part two will be up later tonight, right when I finish writing it up, shouldn’t be more than a few hours…
Cheers
SBX_DK
P.s. excuse the bad spelling and grammar, haven't had time to do a read through...
Looking forward to the next installment. I will be sure to get by bluebird on my next trip there. It is one c/s I have not been in yet. Thanks!