Day One: Over Dose in Amsterdam
Posted by Dogbreath on Friday, 24 August 2001, at 10:46 a.m.
Day one of my visit to mecca started out well. My KLM flight arrived early and it was a nice flight. Even the KLM dutch coffee on the plane was good.
It seems my arrival procedures are becoming a ritual. First, I buy a train ticket at Schipol, then take the train to central station. Along the way, a lady my age from San Fransisco, USA introduced herself to me with a question, so I invited her to come along with me to central station. Wonder if she is looking to get laid, I thought to myself. She had a very heavy suitcase, so I assisted her with it on the train. Arriving at CS, we took the elevator down from the track to the main level. A big mistake... the small elevator reeked of fresh and stale urine.
Then the next ritual.. getting guilders from the ATM at CS. At this point, I determined it would be best to seperate from the woman, who appeared more and more flakey as I came to know her. As one who is moderatly flakey myself, and certainlt flake tolerant, she was just a little too far out there for me.. too far out california style type woman. So we went to the taxi stand, where I took a cab to my Mercure Frommer hotel.
Turned out to be a nice place, and they had a room ready for me early in the morning. The room is nice, but small... typical for an amseterdam hotel. Best of all, it has air conditiong, great with temps and humidity in the mid 80F range. This here is a northern boy, no longer used to tropical climates.
Then I took a tram to CS again, using an old strippenkarten, and purchased a seven day tram pass. It seems the trams are checking passenger tickets much more frequently than in past visits.
Then, a tram ride to the Dam, where I bought a small, cheap weed pipe at the OLd Mane head shop. By now it was around 10 am. Time for a few hits of first class sativa!
So I wandered over to the Greenhouse coffee shop. The indifferent weed meister gave me my requested Nevill Haze, at 30 NLG a gram. Then a coffee and smoke outside on the canal. Then back to the hotel for an afternoon catnap.
Three times I had step-in-dogshit nearmisses. Huge piles of dogshit, obviously from large dogs. Three of the two piles had fresh humanoid shoe imprints. Wew! Glad it wasn't me!
Could not help but notice, being male, the many beautiful aryian Dutch women around town, riding their "feits" (bicycles). Are they getting more beautiful every year, or is it just me?
At 6pm I met Nebe, an amiable Texan. We went to a table in front of Ricks Cafe and sat along a canal table. Hebe had some Kali Mist, and filled the bowl to the top. I took one solid hit and got a real nice buzz.
then about 20 minutes later, I started feeling ill. Hebe said I turned white as a ghost. Then I started sweating like there was no tomorrow. Was feeling worse and worse. Then next thing I know Hebe is standing next to me asking if I am ok. It seems I passed out for about 30 seconds, and had it not been for Hebe, I probably would have fallen into the canal from passing out.
Then after many minutes, I ordered a coffee. Hebe, a former medical techician, got me to dump sugar into the coffee. It worked. 45 minutes later it was time for an Argentine steak.
Then we cruised the red light district "window shopping". Lots of beautiful seductive professional women. Stopped at a coffee shop in the RLD for a java and some nmore weed. By then we were both tired, and headed back to our hotels.
It surpised me getting OD'd on weed, beeing a long time user, and a chronic, daily user of high end nederweed. But it can and does happen to everyone from time to time.
Day Two: Recovery
Posted by Dogbreath on Saturday, 25 August 2001, at 9:57 a.m.
Hebe and made plans to make the pilgrimage to Pax de Boot in Breda, sacred vessel of sativas. But I knew when I woke up I was not worthy this hot NL day. So when I met up with Hebe at the coffeeshop central, told him I was still wiped out from travel/jet lag, or so my excuse went, and said lets go tomorrow intead.
So we wandered over to Barneys Breakfast bar, where all the blokes from the UK hang, and had a nice pseudo scrambled egg US breakfast. othing like a coffee and food to get he furncae fire blazing again. Hebe rolled a huge joint of my Nevilles Haze, but too early for this dog to be blitzed.
Then we ambled back towrds the centrum, stoped in at the Freeworld internetten cafe so I could leave a message for the wife, as I could overhear te UK chick working there commiserate with someone else about dumb amerikans.
Hebe wanted to get a special weed grinder which pulverizes buds for joint roling, so we headed off towards coffee shop Katsu on the tram. Adress in hand, we found the address 70, but alas, it was not the coffee shop. later figured out it was some wierd 1e trype adress, not on the main drag, and we were hopelesly clueless. Since it was around noon, and getting damn hot , too hot for this yankee, I headed back to my air conditioned hotel while thin blooded Texan hebe ambled to the Albert Cuyp street vendor tents.
In the evening we met Vermeer at a watering hole in Spui. I had no idea what he looked like... and no idea what "Vermeer" meant. Was it a swear word in dutch? So, at 8 pm I saw a dude at a video game and asked him, "Are you Vermeer?" The dutchie said, "Ja, Ja!". Not convinced, I said "Amsterdam Channels?" Eh? he said? I said "Internetten?" Nay, nay! he said. So I said Sorry. A few minutes later Vermeer ariived. We had a beer sitting outide at a table with Hebe on a perfect summer evening.
We had a pizza dinner and beir in Rembrandplein, where Vermeer actually knew the owner on a first name basis. Vermeer was interesting, with a US perspective about living in NL, having been here with family for 6 months. He must also have a good wife like me... she gave him a hall pass to hang with channelites that evening bachelor style, but only after she researched the channels site and determined both dogbreath and hebe were acceptable companions.
After being coninually awed by all of the appealling ayrian goddesses strutting or bicycling by, we headed to the Dampkring for a smoke... my very first visit there. The weed line always seemed to be 5 people deep, so we smoked from stash in hand. By this time it was late... past 11 pm, and the dog was ready for a long catnap.
But Hebe and vermeer wandered over to to RLD for some window shoping while I went back to the hotel. Vermeer wanted to mximize the hall pass from the wife so took advantage of the liberty with Hebe. Say no more, all of us married guys know exactly where he is comimg from. Guess we all must have good wives to let us out on long leashes.
Tomorrow: Pilgrimage to the sacred sativa boot in Breda.
Day Three: The Pilgrimage
Posted by Dogbreath on Sunday, 26 August 2001, at 11:01 a.m.
Hebe and I started the day by meetig at the coffee shop Central across from the train station, Hebe's hangout shop and where he knows the owner. First coffee of the day and it tasted great. Lots of different types of characters coming and going at the cenral...
A highly fecond young pretty dutch damsel came in briefly to purchase some weed. She jiggled where ya like to see the jiggles, and wore some frilly semi see thru pants that left little to the imagination. After she jiggled out of the shop, the dutchie at the counter stated loudly, "Anybody that doesn't have a hard on now must be a homosexual".
We wandered over to the cyber cafe coffee shop to printout some directions to the Pax de Boot coffee shop in Breda, but their printer no longer worked. So I wrote the directions down. Even though the morning was still cool, the cafe was warm still from the previous days' heat.
On to Breda. We purchased our 58 NLG round trip tickets and arrived in Breda a couple of hours later. It as hot! Oddly, something one does not expect in the Netherlands, the sun was beating down like being in a hot desert, was occuring that day. The very friendly damsel at the VVV Breda gave us a map and maked the location of the address I gave her. No charge!
Then we walked about 20 mimutes, in the hot broiling sun, unpleasantly along side a high traffic road, fringed by an industrial area. Not gezelic. We were sweating like horses. Finally, we see a houseboat on the stagnant canal... a flat type houseboot, not the boot of traditional design.
Entering the shop, it was fairly full for an early Saturday afternoon. Mostly local folks it seemed..... and there were no english signs. We were greeted by the coffee shop dog, a small friendly border collie, who left us alone after we acknowledged her existance. But we were hot as hell and wet from profuse sweating.
We looked around and found the menu on a blackboard on the wall, then started to analyze the selection. Hummm. Nothing looked at all familiar except the always present white widow. I asked the young girl working the counter for a coke, then asked her if they had any sativas. "Soddy, we do not sell that strain." I looked at hebe and he rolled his eyes and smiled. "Do you have any Thai weed", I asked. "Soddy, no thai".
The first three strains on the board were C5, DTH and A. It was intuitively clear to us that the damsel at the counter was not a priestess of weed, so I bought the DTH, on the hope it was a durban poison/Thai cross. hebe got the C5. It was so hot in the boot, we decided to sit outside on the canal bank where they had a little nice shaded patio set up.
One sniff of our purchases made it clear we had selected some hi end sativa strains. Sweet, citrussy aroma. A few hits and I had a very pleasant attitude adjustmet. Same for Hebe.
We hung out there for around an hour, watching the folks come and go. Lots of folks stopping by briefly to score some weed. I saw one 75 year old damsel slowly but staedily creak up the gangplank with her purchase safely secured in her purse.
All in all, we found the Pax de Boot a very pleasant local coffee shop. But disappointment over the selection was heavy in the air. We concluded it was the kind of shop that if we were to visit it in a month or two, there would be a different menu selection as strains come and go with availability.
We headed back to the Breda train station, returning through the much more pleasant Centrum section of Breda. Yup, it was alive and vibrant just like most other neder cities. Lots of small shops, eye catching damsels and sidewalk cafe tables. We eventually stopped at a table in a shady part of the main drag, where there were dozens and dozens of outside tables. Eventually, a waitress appeared, and we ordered a club sandwich, primailiy because it was the only item on the menu we could comprehend. For 10 NLG, it sure hit the spot.
By now it was getting really hot. We caught the train to amsterdam, but it was an older intercity model, with very poor ventilation. In fact, no ventilation what so ever. The 1.75 hour train ride was pure hell. It must have been 15F warmer inside the train than outside. Even when the train was clipping along real fast, the air remained stagnat and still, even with all the small vent windows open.
Even though we sat on the shady side of the train, we were drained of all energy in only a half hour. Sweat rolled off of us. The worst part was sitting still at a rail siding on the middle of nowhere being baked over easy.
When we got out of the rail car in Amsterdam, it felt 20F cooler. And it was still plenty hot in amsterdam. We immediatly each got a cold soda and recovered.
After a cool shower and R&R in our respective hotel rooms, we met in Rembrantplein at 8:30. After a kick off smoke, we headed for De Dampkring coffee shop. Amazingly, the weed counter line was empty. Hebe bought 2 g's of AK-47, and we watched the automated diplay screen numbers increase until the total reached 2.000 grams.
We took our initial RLD reconnosence walk, then settled in to a coffee shop outside cafe table and smoked some more. After cooling down from the walk, and couple of cold drinks and herbal remedy, we did a rather extensive window shopping tour. Being saturday night, the RLD was packed with tourists. An unusualy high number of middle aged couples as well as older blue haired women gawking at the professional women. At one point, a scantily clad professional woman stomped put of her cabin and declared to the world, in broken english, "This is rediculous, these touists are not here for business".
We would walk along one in front of the other, then one of us would comment on an especially appealing saleswomen, "Wow. Did you see that redhead?"
After several unsuccessful attempts to find an outside cafe table.... everywhere was very busy that saturday night, we lowered our standards and decided on the Damrak. With low expectations, hoping only for a passable meal with no sickness three hours later, in an extremely high tourist traffic zone, we sat in front of the Bistro steak resterant. Amazingly, in spite of the incredibly poor service, we had wonderful argentine steaks. Yum. That hit the spot.
It was now past 11 pm, and after a filling dinner, it was time for a smoke. A shortwalk to the de Kruil coffee shop where a very pleasant sweet blonde dutch damsel gave us orange juices. After a final nightcap smoke, we both returned to our hotels to see what the next days adventures would be.
Day Four: Moonshine
Posted by Dogbreath on Monday, 27 August 2001, at 9:54 a.m.
It started out as another hot sultry day. Again we met at the central cofee shop, then migrated over to Barneys for a full breakfast. By late morning it was hot and steamy again. So we each wandered off seperatly, and after a futile attempt to do some shopping, which was difficult because of the crowds, I headed to my air conditioned hotel room for the daily catnap.
We met at rembrantplein at bushdoctor, only to have to move to a different sheltered place because of heavy thundershowers.
Does the word "drought" even exist in the dutch langauge? We pondered that concept in a wift of smoke as the rains fell heavily.
Then on to a big argentine steak. Nothing like the taste of dead animal flesh to stick to the arteries.
Afterwards, we again visitd the de Dampkring for the necessary after dinner smoke. Again, the weed line was very long, but our patience paid off. We each purchased some Dutch Moonshine. Available in three grades, from 35, 45 and 50 NLG pr gram. We had both read a lot of postings about this new moonshine stuff and were anxious to take it for a test ride. I had expected the product to be loose granular, like the stuff Gray Area hawks, but this looked just like hash.
After finally receiving a couple of coffees from the indifferent nordic blonde beauty behind the counter, beautiful on the outside only, Hebe loaded up the bowl with 50 nlg moonshine. I had one full hit. It had been years since the last time I had smoked hash... but this was not the gummy traditional hash. It as really clumped up resin... the kind of stuff that gums up your sizzors when manicuring finished buds at harvest.
THe smoke was hard on the throat, being hash, and I knew I had a heavy hit. Hebe, as usual with a dope tolerance 10 times greater than moi, finsihed thebowl then filled it again. Then, I started to get that queasy feeling again. "You all right?" Hebe inquired as my color turned towards ghostly white. "Nay", I said. So learning from recent history, I dumped sugar cubes into my coffee. Then we decided to step outside and find a bench to sit on.
Outside, no bench, but my proactive measures did the trick and after a couple of blocks, felt good as new again. So we wandered over to the RLD to do some window shopping. But first we went back to my hotel so I could drop off a piece of feline artwork I had purchased for my wife.
While waiting for a tram, a street woman approached Hebe and said something in dutch. Figuring she was pan handling, and had a general pathetic look to her, Hebe gave her some coins. Only he messed up and gave her 7.50 nlg, instead of the guilder or so. The woman looked very surprised. Then she started to chat with hebe, who only wanted to get as far as possible from the woman. I thought she was trying to see if he were interested in a BJ...... but no matter how horney one may be, the thought of that service from the woman was most unappealing. She had a nasty scar next to her mouth, and what appared to be herps on her lips, as well as other disease infestations on and around her mouth. Hebe , who works as a profssional health care person, in the sexuakly transmitted disease area, commented she looked like she had HIV also. I gave her the unkind nickname Roadkill Woman. Hebe became concerned when she got on our tram, afraid she would follow us.
We got off at Damrak, and heading for the RLD, we looked behind us and were releived she did not follow us. But now it was raining hard again, which put a damper on our window gawking.
At 10 pm we stopped in at the greenhouse centrum coffe shop, had some more smoke, then decided to retire early on the sunday evening. All evening long, hebe made the comment "Aryian Woman" everytime we saw another one of those fine dutch blonds about, and there were many, as well comments about the politicvally correct comments made on certain internet forums. "Must be the time of year".
Finally, the heat wave is broken and conmfortable temperatures abound. Life is goeden in amsterdam.
Day Five: The Statue People
Posted by Dogbreath on Tuesday, 28 August 2001, at 11:11 a.m.
It was a cool crisp sunny morning and it felt good after the heat wave. As usual, at the coffee shop central, Hebe and I met up to start the day, and it was hebe's last day, only central coffee shop had no coffee... the coffee machine had broken. A heresey in Dutch culture. Hebe finished his fat joint and we ambled to Barneys for breakfast. Coffee and hebe did another joint.
Next to cybercafe for a while. Then on to do Dam to see the Statue People. Nope, not in yet. So we sat in front of the Greenhouse coffee shop and had more coffee. Another huge joint for hebe and the first toke of the day for me. Just sitting back enjoying morning in amsterdam.
Back to de Dam and the stature person was in. A finacial offering into his colection box, then several photos, untill the digital camera batteries died. I stepped back and took in the scene of Hebe chatting with the staue man as he smoked a hand rolled cigarette. Odd, a person talking to a staue... a pure stoned observation.
Next off to Muntplein, where I picked up a delft coffee cup & saucer for the wife. But there is an exise tax on the cup, so I now have to take it to the customs agent at the airport when departing to get 32 NLG tax back. Now, shopping done with, over to de Dampkring. We both stocked up on Kali Mist, and smoked some more. Another big fat one for hebe, who was making the best of his last day.
After an afternoon catnap, we met at bushdoctor coffee shop at Rembrandtsplein. An evening kickoff smoke. Then a trot to de Dampkring for more supplies.
A tram to the red light district for some early recon. Being a slow monday evening, the streets seemed deserted, especially after the heavy tourist of the weekend. No problem getting an outside table in front of ricks cafe. After a very long sit, we ordered a beer, and the damsel went back into the bar. Eventually she returned with the goods, and we gave he some bills. Then she walked back into the bar, made change, then came out again with our change. That waitress made a lot of unnecessary trips going in and out of the shop for only one beer order. Where is that famous dutch efficiency? After more smoking, off to de Dam.
The staue man was there and her had just sat down for a cigarette break. He recognized us from this morning.
"It is slow tonight. You never know how it will be. It can change from 2-3 guilders at a time contributions to 5 or 10 cent contributions in less than a half hour."
"But I am very observant. I am here when the stores colse and people are happy and have guilders in their pockets."
"On slow days like today I work intill dark".
"Do you make a good living", we asked.
"It is ok, but there is no pension or social security."
"Look at that fool acros the street. I watched him for half an hour one day, and I had to turn around with digust."
Hebe and I looked at some wacko sitting under a light pole with a silver painted raincoat and hood on, tin foil on his face, supposedly a pseudo statue person. The sight was comical and hideous. We laughed at the site.
"I tried to organize all the street artists once, but they ould have nothing to do with it. Especially the russians, they are so hard headed."
"At first the polics gave me a hard time. Now they know what I do and acept me. But once I was arrested and spent the night in jail. They accused me of obscene behavior. They said my hand was on the breast of a young woman while a picture was being taken. Of all things,m she was Chinese too."
"I told them it was all a misunderstanding. I told them I couldn't have done it because I am gay. Told them to call my partner at home to confirm it. Now I do not put my arm around people for pictures."
"Do you have web site?" I asked.
"Soon, in about a month. I want to set up a web came near me and have it on the internet. But my internet provider is so slow."
I picked up one of his cards laying in the money box. The stature man is Mike Zilver and his web page will be www.mikezilver.nl.
Another scan of the professional ladies, then dinner outside at a Thia resterant, near the old church. We though we would die of old age before we were finally able to get our check. Then we moved three shops down in front of a non descipt coffee shop, for the after dinner smoke. Time to move on. An attractive darkhaired woman walked by who caught my eye, until hebe pointed out her hips, which were male, so the she was, at one time, a he.
Again, we window shopped thru the RLD and were awed once more by some of the professional ladies. A quick stop at de Kruel coffee shop for more weed.
Then we headed for Rookies at Leidseplein. Another smoke. By now, my brain was functioning at bare cognitive level, all higher functions having shut down.
we headed back to our hotels with mutal comments about getting together again some day in Amsterdam.
Day Six: The Urinator
Posted by Dogbreath on Wednesday, 29 August 2001, at 9:56 a.m.
Lets see now, what did I do yesterday? Uh, can't remember.
But I do remember having to piss *real* bad and looking for one of those metal curvey pissors seen here and there along a canal. Near Harlemerstraat I find one. I walked in the curved entrance, only to find, of all things, a huge solitary turd laying in the drain. And it was too large to blame iton a dog. Disgusting.
Say Seven: The Last Day
Posted by Dogbreath on Thursday, 30 August 2001
Always a sad time, that last day in Amsterdam. The reality of having to leave sets in, like an unwanted distraction. One last breakfast at Barneys, the morning smoke, then a final smoke at Central coffee shop before getting on the train to Schipol.
Already, schemes abound in the mind about when the next trip may be.
I must say there is an abundance of high quality herb in the dam... it is such a pleasure to have so much choice.
The weather was pretty good. One hot as hell heat wave, but seven days of sunshine, with only one evening of rain. Remarkable luck regarding the rain.
The gods were pleased.
A forum where you can read the great
adventures of the visitors to Amsterdam.
adventures of the visitors to Amsterdam.
2 posts • Page 1 of 1
AntyInFlorida and I just sat down with a big joint and read this post. Anty just kept repeating "I wanna go back now" over and over again. We both agreed the turd in the urinoir was very disgusting. After I re-read the post, I was remembering when you first posted it and how much I loved it then.
Great Post, keep em coming!
Great Post, keep em coming!
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