Het Ankertje

Northern European Traveller from UK sent 9 Dec 2008
I dropped in here on my way out of Holland in August '08. Although slightly worn and dog-eared, the atmosphere was amicable - not intimidating, as is sometimes the case in run-down gaffs. I asked advice of the barman and he gave me his tips for making use of the wares. Having been told so many times that grass and hash do not mix in joints, I was surprised when he explained how he mixed his favourite weed, whatever might be the most appropriate currently available, with a variety of hash. I'd already smoked enough grass in the Netherlands that summer to have had enough of it, so I found his suggestion appealing. He recommended the Afghan at €9.00 per gram, so I tried it. Mixed with some of the grass I needed to get rid of before leaving the country I was pleasantly surprised by the effect. I'd travelled as far as I wanted to go for one day, having left the UK on the 23:59 Norfolk Line ferry to Dunkurque and driven strait all day. (I don't smoke and drive.) He let me take my time making use of their computer and internet (Quick crash course in Dutch!) to find accommodation nearby. Circumstances kept me in the area for a few days and I looked forward to dropping in there again. When I did, I bought five grams of 'HiYa', which they pronounce as 'HeeYah', though I'm sure the intended pronunciation should be like the short form for 'Hi Ya' (as in 'Hello You'). It was €7.00 per gram, which I was told was the best value for money. The Afghan had gone and there was no point paying 30% more (€10.00 per gram) for the 'Dynamite'. I was satisfied by this advice and would gladly patronise this shop again. The lady who advised me the second time was very friendly, although initially taken aback by my use of English. (I'm English, which they don't hear too much of in the flesh in the provinces, but recognise it from the BBC, which most people in Holland watch, and rise to the occasion when it arises.) She gave me a pack of king-size papers for free, the best book of roach card I've ever used and sent me on my way with a genuinely friendly smile that, one more superfluous and sad time, left me lamenting the primitive state of human society outside the Netherlands. Sometimes, cycling or walking around a Dutch town with a gram or a joint or two in my breast pocket, I feel like crying, knowing this is the only place I can feel truly free.