Stoned & Sun-burned in South East Asia - Vietnam & Thailand [EDITED WITH PICS]
Posted: Wed 6th Mar 2019 01:06 pm
Last chopper into Saigon.
I took this day ‘off’ as a work-from-home day, to allow myself time to make some final preparations and pack at a more leisurely, stress-free pace. A few visa-photos taken at a photo-shop in the center, a few extra clothes and deet-bearing insect repellent purchased and we’re in business.
As the winter sun made its early evening home in the western horizon, the clock ticked and this journey grew ever closer. This was my first time going to either of these new countries, and to Asia at that. The missus put some Kale Chips in the oven to prepare a healthy snack. I ran to the Albert Heijn and grabbed some beverages to ‘spike’ on the train and neck down at the airport right before security.
I had about half a bottle of THCyrup left, I poured about two-thirds of said remainder into a bottle of Albert Heijn fresh-pressed fruit juice, and poured the remainder of that into the Missus’s fresh-squeezed orange juice. I did a final sweep of the apartment to make sure everything was packed and/or left behind in good order. I took a cheeky pre-chug of my inebriant-laden juice just for shits-n-giggles. I don’t know if was my wariness of the long journey ahead or this particular batch of syrup (re: it was the strongest I’d gotten from the master-chef to date), but I swear I felt sluggishly, almost overwhelmingly body stonage and eye droop-age.
We pack light as to only carry one backpack per person, so despite it being the middle of January we’re dressed rather light for the ten minute hike to Centraal, a mere flimsy wind-breaker, covering a long-sleeved shirt and some fabricky light pants, with long-johns underneath. I quickly realize (or don’t rather) that I’m to properly mashed to dole out so much of a fuck about the blustery temps for which we are so under-dressed. We get on the train, and the better half realizes the healthy snack of toasted Kale chips she prepared is smelling like a proper wet fart oozing from her bag. We get off at Schiphol she promptly dumps them, along with our now emptied juice-bottles.
After a few hiccups at international security - I haven’t had to go through this part of the airport in ages, it then dawns on me that this is my first time leaving the European continent in nearly six years, wow! I digress, we make into onto our flight without a hitch, and despite the lengthy journey and full-flight, I’m able to actually catch some Zzzs on the plane and the flight breezes by relatively painlessly (I’m sure the THCyrup had its hand in that). We make our descent towards Kuala Lampur, Malaysia - and the crew makes announcements to that regard, among which are “Malaysia takes the possession and trafficking of illegal drugs very seriously, and penalties can include the use of capital punishment - please be aware and cautious”, so glad I maintained the sensibility not to resort to any of my infamous “floo-powder” tactics, though we see very little sign of drug specific scrutiny in our brief hour long layover.
An hour in KL and we’re airborne again in the direction of Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. As the plane descend over the night sky in Saigon, I gaze out the window mesmerized by the assorted rainbow laden boulevards of vivid neon lights below me. We touch down, and of course a hiccup in a visa-application process, keeps me sitting in a waiting-room for the better part of an hour. Name-called, $25 paid and my visa is slapped onto my passport and we quickly wisk ourselves through customs and into the whole new world out there.
We catch a taxi from one of the purportedly trustworthy companies - Vinasun. It seems we get an honest driver as the fare is even a bit under what we were told to expect, I leave him a nice tip and we get checked in and settled. Bags dropped in the room, it’s rounding 9PM local-time on a Saturday evening, we’re eager to get out and see what the bustling city has to offer. The first thing you notice about HCMC is the abundance of scooters/moped/low-power motorcycles just dominating the streets, they move at a surreal floating pace and can be quite mesmerizing to watch, that is till you almost get run over by one in the process of doing so.
Our first port-of-call this evening is the Bui Vien area, known as the ‘backpacker district of Saigon’, google maps suggests it’s a quick 10 minute walk from our hotel. We take it all in. I also notice the prominence of small shoddy plastic furniture on the sidewalks/”terraces” in the front of most cafes/eateries. These are properly small chairs, that in the Western world would be for children, but the masses filling them show that they’re also more than suitable for full-grown adults. People are sitting on these small chairs everywhere, and people are eating everywhere. The Vietnamese love to eat, you can catch them doing it at all hours of the day in all sorts of fashions and places.
We arrive a short while later in the heart of Bui Vien, the main drag is packed like a box of sardines, blaring trashy techno and pop mixes pulsate out of pulsating discotheques and bars lining it. We venture into the heart of the madness, the sensory intake is ample to say the least, strobe lights, pounding bass, wall-to-wall two way traffic of humans (surprisingly mostly locals given that the area is titled “backpacker district”) and amidst all this rolling food-carts whipping up all sorts of funky Eastern delights, soups, dumplings, Bahn Mi, freeze-dried squid, emitting less than pleasant by fumes as byproducts.
We stop in the middle of all this and stop at a random cafe to grab a beer, a bite to eat and take in the madness. After filling our bellies we make the daunting journey of the main drag, the flow of human foot-traffic has increased yet more. We make it to the top of the main drag in the direction of our hotel. We stop at another large multi-storied by at that intersection, and are greeted with the heavy stench of cannabis smoke. Full disclosure, part of my incentive to rove this backpacker district stems from what some of my research had told me. I had not planned to (easily) find, let alone partake in the herb on this trip as the horror-stories of draconian laws against drugs (including cannabis) abound in Southeast Asia. That said, my research in an effort to avoid these things and legal trouble actually revealed that despite implementing the most stringent of laws against cannabis on the books, Vietnamese law enforcement often look the other way regarding our favorite plant and its use.
Apparently the corruption of the country and revenue potential of the plant are enough that in many parts of the country, but especially Bui Vien, both sale and consumption are rather brazen.
After mulling it over with the missus, (we wanted to ‘feel out the situation’) a lot of the people we shall puffing joints weren’t even just Westerners but also locals. We decide to go for it. I cross the street there’s a guy sitting on a fold out chair next to a rolling cigarette cart. He has Raw papers even behind the case. I ask him “smoke” and make the international “joint” symbol by pinching my index and thumb by my lips, he nods agreeingly. I ask to see and inspect the wares, my guard is up as I heard despite the tolerance the ‘vendors’ here often like to pull the ‘bait-and-switch’ with tea leaves on unsuspecting tourists. However, he says I can take the bag he handed me to inspect. It looks to be about 3.5-4g with prevalent orange hairs, mildy fresh/damp, not loud smell, but better than I would’ve expected, I don’t even see any seeds in there.
We barter over price, he originally quotes me something amounting to about 17-20 USD, however I counter with a lesser amount, coming out to about 15 USD. An aside, the Vietnamese Dong is a very inflated currency so the bill denominations you work with, even for small purchases are quite high numerically. This is my first few hours using this funny currency and I’m trying to get the correct change, the guy goes into my bill-fold of my wallet (slowly) and pulls out the correct amount, let’s me inspect that it is indeed the correct amount and he hands me a pack of Raws and the bag (I negotiated the papes into final price) and we’re off. I recount my cash, and everything was there, anywhere else in the world - that would have been a red-flag and half, and just not flown. But for some reason it worked in this case, and I was not exploited aside from apparently paying a bit more on the weed than I should have, but it wasn’t too bad.
The only bud-shot (of actual wares) I have from the entire trip. Some Vietnamese street-weed (allegedly Cambodian grown).
Finally our first taster of Asian weed in tow, we head back towards our hotel. We duck off just out front of the hotel and twist one up. It’s bit damp so doesn’t stay lit amazingly well, but I hardly find any seeds breaking it up, it burns with whitish ash, and is surprisingly potent all things considered - I’m a happy camper. We finish the joint and round the night off with a night cap at a local craft brewpub a block from our hotel - not before stopping by the Circle-K to stock up on awe-inducing Asian munchies. Day (or Night) one rather, has been a success to say the least. Much more adventure on the horizon.
I took this day ‘off’ as a work-from-home day, to allow myself time to make some final preparations and pack at a more leisurely, stress-free pace. A few visa-photos taken at a photo-shop in the center, a few extra clothes and deet-bearing insect repellent purchased and we’re in business.
As the winter sun made its early evening home in the western horizon, the clock ticked and this journey grew ever closer. This was my first time going to either of these new countries, and to Asia at that. The missus put some Kale Chips in the oven to prepare a healthy snack. I ran to the Albert Heijn and grabbed some beverages to ‘spike’ on the train and neck down at the airport right before security.
I had about half a bottle of THCyrup left, I poured about two-thirds of said remainder into a bottle of Albert Heijn fresh-pressed fruit juice, and poured the remainder of that into the Missus’s fresh-squeezed orange juice. I did a final sweep of the apartment to make sure everything was packed and/or left behind in good order. I took a cheeky pre-chug of my inebriant-laden juice just for shits-n-giggles. I don’t know if was my wariness of the long journey ahead or this particular batch of syrup (re: it was the strongest I’d gotten from the master-chef to date), but I swear I felt sluggishly, almost overwhelmingly body stonage and eye droop-age.
We pack light as to only carry one backpack per person, so despite it being the middle of January we’re dressed rather light for the ten minute hike to Centraal, a mere flimsy wind-breaker, covering a long-sleeved shirt and some fabricky light pants, with long-johns underneath. I quickly realize (or don’t rather) that I’m to properly mashed to dole out so much of a fuck about the blustery temps for which we are so under-dressed. We get on the train, and the better half realizes the healthy snack of toasted Kale chips she prepared is smelling like a proper wet fart oozing from her bag. We get off at Schiphol she promptly dumps them, along with our now emptied juice-bottles.
After a few hiccups at international security - I haven’t had to go through this part of the airport in ages, it then dawns on me that this is my first time leaving the European continent in nearly six years, wow! I digress, we make into onto our flight without a hitch, and despite the lengthy journey and full-flight, I’m able to actually catch some Zzzs on the plane and the flight breezes by relatively painlessly (I’m sure the THCyrup had its hand in that). We make our descent towards Kuala Lampur, Malaysia - and the crew makes announcements to that regard, among which are “Malaysia takes the possession and trafficking of illegal drugs very seriously, and penalties can include the use of capital punishment - please be aware and cautious”, so glad I maintained the sensibility not to resort to any of my infamous “floo-powder” tactics, though we see very little sign of drug specific scrutiny in our brief hour long layover.
An hour in KL and we’re airborne again in the direction of Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. As the plane descend over the night sky in Saigon, I gaze out the window mesmerized by the assorted rainbow laden boulevards of vivid neon lights below me. We touch down, and of course a hiccup in a visa-application process, keeps me sitting in a waiting-room for the better part of an hour. Name-called, $25 paid and my visa is slapped onto my passport and we quickly wisk ourselves through customs and into the whole new world out there.
We catch a taxi from one of the purportedly trustworthy companies - Vinasun. It seems we get an honest driver as the fare is even a bit under what we were told to expect, I leave him a nice tip and we get checked in and settled. Bags dropped in the room, it’s rounding 9PM local-time on a Saturday evening, we’re eager to get out and see what the bustling city has to offer. The first thing you notice about HCMC is the abundance of scooters/moped/low-power motorcycles just dominating the streets, they move at a surreal floating pace and can be quite mesmerizing to watch, that is till you almost get run over by one in the process of doing so.
Our first port-of-call this evening is the Bui Vien area, known as the ‘backpacker district of Saigon’, google maps suggests it’s a quick 10 minute walk from our hotel. We take it all in. I also notice the prominence of small shoddy plastic furniture on the sidewalks/”terraces” in the front of most cafes/eateries. These are properly small chairs, that in the Western world would be for children, but the masses filling them show that they’re also more than suitable for full-grown adults. People are sitting on these small chairs everywhere, and people are eating everywhere. The Vietnamese love to eat, you can catch them doing it at all hours of the day in all sorts of fashions and places.
We arrive a short while later in the heart of Bui Vien, the main drag is packed like a box of sardines, blaring trashy techno and pop mixes pulsate out of pulsating discotheques and bars lining it. We venture into the heart of the madness, the sensory intake is ample to say the least, strobe lights, pounding bass, wall-to-wall two way traffic of humans (surprisingly mostly locals given that the area is titled “backpacker district”) and amidst all this rolling food-carts whipping up all sorts of funky Eastern delights, soups, dumplings, Bahn Mi, freeze-dried squid, emitting less than pleasant by fumes as byproducts.
We stop in the middle of all this and stop at a random cafe to grab a beer, a bite to eat and take in the madness. After filling our bellies we make the daunting journey of the main drag, the flow of human foot-traffic has increased yet more. We make it to the top of the main drag in the direction of our hotel. We stop at another large multi-storied by at that intersection, and are greeted with the heavy stench of cannabis smoke. Full disclosure, part of my incentive to rove this backpacker district stems from what some of my research had told me. I had not planned to (easily) find, let alone partake in the herb on this trip as the horror-stories of draconian laws against drugs (including cannabis) abound in Southeast Asia. That said, my research in an effort to avoid these things and legal trouble actually revealed that despite implementing the most stringent of laws against cannabis on the books, Vietnamese law enforcement often look the other way regarding our favorite plant and its use.
Apparently the corruption of the country and revenue potential of the plant are enough that in many parts of the country, but especially Bui Vien, both sale and consumption are rather brazen.
After mulling it over with the missus, (we wanted to ‘feel out the situation’) a lot of the people we shall puffing joints weren’t even just Westerners but also locals. We decide to go for it. I cross the street there’s a guy sitting on a fold out chair next to a rolling cigarette cart. He has Raw papers even behind the case. I ask him “smoke” and make the international “joint” symbol by pinching my index and thumb by my lips, he nods agreeingly. I ask to see and inspect the wares, my guard is up as I heard despite the tolerance the ‘vendors’ here often like to pull the ‘bait-and-switch’ with tea leaves on unsuspecting tourists. However, he says I can take the bag he handed me to inspect. It looks to be about 3.5-4g with prevalent orange hairs, mildy fresh/damp, not loud smell, but better than I would’ve expected, I don’t even see any seeds in there.
We barter over price, he originally quotes me something amounting to about 17-20 USD, however I counter with a lesser amount, coming out to about 15 USD. An aside, the Vietnamese Dong is a very inflated currency so the bill denominations you work with, even for small purchases are quite high numerically. This is my first few hours using this funny currency and I’m trying to get the correct change, the guy goes into my bill-fold of my wallet (slowly) and pulls out the correct amount, let’s me inspect that it is indeed the correct amount and he hands me a pack of Raws and the bag (I negotiated the papes into final price) and we’re off. I recount my cash, and everything was there, anywhere else in the world - that would have been a red-flag and half, and just not flown. But for some reason it worked in this case, and I was not exploited aside from apparently paying a bit more on the weed than I should have, but it wasn’t too bad.
The only bud-shot (of actual wares) I have from the entire trip. Some Vietnamese street-weed (allegedly Cambodian grown).
Finally our first taster of Asian weed in tow, we head back towards our hotel. We duck off just out front of the hotel and twist one up. It’s bit damp so doesn’t stay lit amazingly well, but I hardly find any seeds breaking it up, it burns with whitish ash, and is surprisingly potent all things considered - I’m a happy camper. We finish the joint and round the night off with a night cap at a local craft brewpub a block from our hotel - not before stopping by the Circle-K to stock up on awe-inducing Asian munchies. Day (or Night) one rather, has been a success to say the least. Much more adventure on the horizon.
). My easily sorted OTC transaction out of the way we had back to the intersection where I purchased last night's green.
