. Sent 6 Feb 2012.
I went to Sticky Fingers on a very hot day in July 2011. Interesting experience. The coffeeshop is behind a cafe, and you have to know it is there before you can find it (thank you, Amsterdam Coffeeshop Directory). The locals were confusing. One tense looking large middle aged blond haired and ruddish complexioned individual looked at me as if I should lower my eyes. I countered with a "Hi", and that seemed to switch his mood in a second. Not very customer friendly. The blonde woman behind the counter was sort of goodlooking, but looked suspicious the entire time. The menu is pictures stuck to the counter top, you can point at what you want to order. The weed and hash are pre-packaged to whatever weight they choose, so you hit your 5 gram limit very quickly. Fortunately there are other coffeeshops nearby, so you can stock up going from coffeeshop to coffeeshop. The menu is reasonable, nothing like you get in Amsterdam, but there is a menu. I ended up buying Zero-Polm, which is a Moroccan hash, pliable, and of very reasonable quality, not too tightly pressed. I also bought some commercial imported weed, called Thai. Ok high because it is leafy and stemmy, with lots of seeds in it. The seeds have a very high germination rate though, and I have 4 of them growing right now, very vigorous plants, very inbred, and an extremely tropical sativa. The prices were well under $10 per gram, which is good. Without the menacing locals and a more expansive menu, this would be a good coffeeshop.
Northern European Traveller
. Sent 15 Dec 2008.
The first time I visited, in July, I was less impressed. I found the atmosphere intimidating. It's a standard enough type of setup, with half a dozen or so tables and chairs to either side of a bar when you come in. Perhaps I was just in a particularly paranoid mindset that day, although I wasn't stoned, but I felt as if all eyes fixed a penetrating gaze on me as I opened the door. They probably did and most probably usually do, but I couldn't shake the feeling that one or two of the old-style, long-haired, Rolling Stone-type stoners were miffed by the audacity of an unknown daring to invade their turf. I didn't sit down and went straight to the bar to see what was on offer. It was an unusually diverse menu, so I asked the barmaid what she might suggest. She was very non-committal and seemed, or perhaps it just seemed to me, to support the long-haired consensus of opinion that this was not the place for the unknown. To be fair to them, and coffeeshops in general, I often get this feeling. Her question in reply, which I've often heard many times in coffeeshops, 'What do you like?' didn't make me feel any easier. I like to get stoned. That's why I'm here. What am I supposed to say? Hers was a fair and obvious and question, as the menu was quite diverse. After a few seconds of feeling terribly uncomfortable and intimidated, I opted to try 0.8g of Zero-Zero has, which cost 6EUR. I bought it and left, but even as I unlocked my bike and cycled away, I still felt terribly uncomfortable and the feeling accompanied for the rest of the day. I blame it on my background in primitive societies, where cannabis is considered a moral weakness at best and a legal matter at worst. Later, when I'd settled down and had a chance to get myself together before rolling a beautiful joint, I had to admit to myself that any feelings of incompetence or trepidation, I came to view any such uncomfortable feelings the visit had inspired as a dysfunctional relationship between my own heart and mind. It was fantastic hash, reminding me of the sort we used to get in the UK when I was a boy. I got two or three beautifully enabling joints out of it and a couple of nice little fillers to tide me over. I would loved to have bonged it. I'm sure it would have then revealed an even more illuminating character, but circumstances unfortunately didn't allow. They do have good gear there, so I screwed my courage to the sticking place in August and gave it another go. This was a bit more palatable. If you go past the entrance hall with the locals on either side, the bar extends around to a section behind a glass door. I can't imagine why, because there's nowhere to sit down there (that I could see), so I can't imagine how the partition has been erected to comply with the smoking law, as in so many other coffeeshops, but the barmaid seemed much more amiable and informative that she had on my first encounter. It was the same lady. I suspect she recognised me. (If not exactly, I felt that she felt she'd been a bit short with me in July. She seemed much more willing to spend time with me going over the menu and I spotted something I hadn't had for twenty-odd years, since I lived in America. It was Columbian Gold - an old favourite, much sought after among Mexican and other lower-grade grasses in America. It was 9EUR for 2.8 grams, so I asked her, 'Is this really from Columbia' to which she replied, yes, it was. So I asked for 2.8 grams out of interest to see how my reaction to it may have changed over the years - a blast from the past. Then I wanted something a bit more familiar and European to compare it with and asked for a gram of something else (can't remember what.) She then said that she couldn't do that, because they were only allowed to sell three grams to anyone at any one time. I didn't argue with her, just said, 'Does that mean that I can come back and buy the other gram a bit later?' She said, 'Yes, I go off duty at three o'clock, so you can get another three grams from here in the afternoon.' She could see I was disappointed and gave in, saying, 'OK, you want the Colombian and what else?' I chose another gram of grass and she let me have it, notwithstanding their current house rules. It seemed a bit odd to me at the time, but it now looks like it was a precursor to the rule in Bergen Op Zoom and Bergen en Roosdenaal, where limits on sale have been restricted to two grams (see Azul). Anyway, I wasn't disappointed by the Colombian - it brought back a stone from my youth in a big, fat, pure-grass joint, which I rarely-rarely smoke now, having lived in Europe since 1981. The other grass I got there didn't stand out particularly, perhaps simply because I'd smoked so much Netherweed that summer that I was fed up with it. In summary, I would go there again, even if just to see what their unusually diverse menu has on offer.