Day 4 Part 2 - 03/11/24 - Evening
With the plan for the boat set in motion, I begin the necessary preparations for the voyage. I grab a nearby tray and set up a rolling station, crafting each bifta with the speed and precision of Private Pyle assembling his rifle in Full Metal Jacket. One SSH for now to get the party started, then I grind the whole gram of Purple Strawberry Sherbert and roll it into 3 joints. I also make one of the Amnesia hash from Spirit, leaving enough for one joint of SSH, and another of Rocky Dennis, in the stash tin. The boat ride is 1 hour, so a spliff every 20 minutes seems reasonable.
- Walking to Bagheera
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- Rolling station
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I spark up one of the PSS joints. The nugs did indeed have a purple hue, and the smell is a mixture of champagne and Haribo sweets. The taste reminds me of Shoreline, another favourite of mine from the Devils Harvest/Green Place cup-winning glory days of 2014, so I wonder if this is a phenotype of the same strain. Wishful thinking, maybe. I'd kill for some Shoreline... anyway, the buzz is a medium relaxing high with stimulated thoughts, a classic Phenofinders mid-menu offering that took me right back to Voyagers and my youth. Redemption from the disappointing Kosher the other day.
Ready for the Smokeboat, we mosey on down to the dock just past Basjoe, where they are currently boarding. We haven't booked but hope to pay on arrival. The steward tells us that the trips are fully booked all night, but if we follow the 3 guys that just left, we can get to the Centraal Station location, where they will have spaces free. Deeply offended, I tell him I'm an Amsterdam veteran and ACD member, exclaiming that i know exactly where Centraal is and roundhouse kicking him and his clipboard into the canal. Not really, we just walk to Centraal Station.
We arrive at an empty dock, just as a boat pulls in. We join the queue, and get almost all the way to the end before realising we are in the queue for the Buddha Boat. No worries, I tell the Mrs, this line has been recommended to me specifically on ACD, but they might not take us without a booking and it's filling up quick. We hastily leave the queue and book the Smokeboat online, choosing what we feel is a safer bet. A short wait and our vessel for the evening arrives. We are some of the first on board, and opt for the outside seats at the stern, despite the freezing cold.
I ask the staff if the door in front of me (which can't have been more than 12 inches wide) was a toilet, and it was. No light, so I used my phone. I discovered that the toilet was just a bowl on top of a black hole, presumably straight into the canal below. I have visions of losing my phone to the abyss, then have a panic attack in the cubicle. Disturbed, I sit back down. We still haven't departed, but the staff informs everyone that they can begin smoking now. Not wanting to dip into my rations, I skin up some Rocky Dennis, lighting up just as the last passengers arrive. 4 joints in one hour, still reasonable.
The Smokeboat may be the most touristy option when it comes to 420 canal cruises, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. The staff were helpful and friendly without being pushy, and we bought 2 Heinekens at €8. Cash or card on board, no boring historical tour, just smokes, drinks, Bob Marley and 90s Hiphop for an hour. We chose to do the trip in the dark, and the outside seating went hand in hand with this, staring at Christmas lights as I got more relaxed with each joint. 2 hash and 2 PSS in that order, to fully appreciate the high of each. Floating through the city I love with the woman I love. Happy days.
- Smokeboat
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- Smokeboat
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- Smokeboat
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- Smokeboat
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- Smokeboat
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- Smokeboat
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We arrange to meet with my pal Elliott while on the boat. I suggest Het Gelderse, since it is close to the dock and I haven't been since the renovation. We disembark and make the short walk, only to find a full coffeeshop, and Elliott outside with a bag of Lemon Haze in hand. He gestures for me to roll a joint out of it, I say no for now. We head round to Green Place instead, and I see that Glen is working at the Joker as we pass. Into Green Place, we are both taken in by the smell of the Purple Punch, so we take a gram each at €12, and a seat at the bar. The Purple Punch SMELLS purple, Robinson's blackcurrant squash purple to be precise, and the taste reflects this. I have heard that Green Place have gone downhill recently, and while their focus has certainly shifted from affordable Dutch strains to overpriced Cali options over time, this one harks back to the days of old.
All 3 of us are starving, and wanting pizza. Elliott works some sort of Google witchcraft and finds a pizza place round the corner. We pass Jolly Joker again, and find a hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant with space for 8 people on a good day. Expecting a sweaty kebab shop pizza, Elliott assures me that the reviews were good, and Jesus Christ was he right. Stonebaked pizza, melting mozzarella and the spiciest pepperoni on Earth, my only regret is finding out they had home made chilli sauce I could have dunked the crusts in, after the fact. Minds blown, we decide to finally call into the Joker.
Glen greets us with a smile and a fist bump. We don't buy any weed here, just enjoy the rest of the Purple Punch, and some of the Gelderse Lemon Haze. Chats, smokes and laughs are had over an hour or two. Good times on the Nieuwmarkt with friends old and new, makes the holiday worth every penny. 3 cans of Coke and a Jolly Joker lighter, and not a cent changed hands. Tired, we exchange hugs and say our sad farewells before walking to Dam and tramming it back to the hotel.
10pm rolls around, and I want to hit the straat for one final hoorah in Mokum. My stash is low and I want to save some cash for the final half day tomorrow, so I allow myself one gram and one drink for the night. Still have a bit of SSH and Rocky Dennis to fall back on as well. With a €20 in the wallet and shrapnel in my pocket, I am determined to try Terps Army, so I make my usual loop once more, with the terrace of the Bulldog Palace being my second option. Terps is full again, and the Bulldog bouncer won't let me into the bar because I have chosen to wear jogging bottoms. None of the other local shops are tickling my fancy, so I peruse CoffeeshopMenus.org and choose Get Down To It as a buy and fly location.
I ask for a gram of the Watermelon Zkittles at €12, and a hash preroll at €4. I hand over the 20, then stand there like a chump before asking for my change. The BT explained to me in a condescending tone that he rounded up the gram to 1.3, in order to not have to give me any change. They pulled this exact same bullshit on my last visit in 2019. In the same visit, they sold a very drunk Scottish guy some €50 full melt hash, when he was clearly after a bit of pollen. They are clearly closing up, and I'm not in the mood for an argument, so I sit on a bench on the Leidseplein and smoke the fairly enjoyable hash joint.
Weighing up my next move, I decide that it is too late to try another coffeeshop, and I may not have enough change on me for a drink anyway. Fuck it, I think, the world is my lobster and I've got a little extra of the Zkittles. Time to skin up. The smell explodes out of the bag, and the joint is fucking incredible. Smooth smoke and perfect white ash, the taste is sensational. I pull out my notebook and write A+++. This is absolutely top shelf product. As a result of this joint, my feelings on Get Down are mixed, and my mouth is dry as fuck. As if by fate, I look over at Burger King and notice a poster: small Coke for €1. This tiny paper goblet may as well be a tankard at this point, and I retire to the tram stop for my next smoke. I notice that, at night, the tram billboards say "Goodnight" to the citizens in many different languages. What a magical city.
- The trams say goodnight
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- Leidseplein
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- Leidseplein
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- Leidseplein
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I while away an hour or so on the Leidseplein, smoking the Zkittles and finishing off the SSH while taking a few pictures and soaking in some last minute therapeutic vibes. The realisation that I am going home tomorrow washes over me. Swallowing the bittersweet pill, I kick the proverbial can all the way back to the hotel. In an act of defiance, I smoke one more Zkittles doobie at the smoke spot, before setting the dreaded check-out alarm and retiring.
Final Day coming soon...
Last trip: October/November 2024.
with your write-ups and the pictures to go along with it, fantastic. 
And Merry Christmas to you and Mrs.Sb21 also. 
can't wait for the next instalment!
