Day of Marijuana Law Exploration

Holland: just weeks ago I did not know what the difference was between Holland and the Netherlands and so with great thanks to Wikipedia I learned. Holland is a part of the Netherlands, namely the northern part, which is where you will find one of many spectacularly cold and progressive Dutch cities called Amsterdam. The most famous aspects of the city are its canals, its chilled-out populace, its legalized prostitution, and, of course, its lax marijuana laws, making it possible for anyone over the age of 18 to purchase and smoke weed at one of the many many many "coffeeshops" scattered around the city. Now, native Amsterdammians (?) do not necessarily visit these coffeeshops, but the the population at large considers marijuana and even other soft, typically psychoactive, drugs to be perfectly acceptable options for intoxication. Like having a beer after work, you roll a spliff and cook dinner. It's pretty wonderful.

Anyway, during my little sejour at The Flying Pig Party Downtown Hostel last night, a hostel notorious for its extreme amounts of partying, I found that the Amsterdam international scene consists of the sort of "partying" that I did much more of in my high school days, including sitting in one room for hours and hours talking and smoking and drinking cheap beers and then staying up all night trying all sorts of psychoactives from the local herbologist and then passing out around 10am the next day. This to me for people ages 22+, not to mention 26+ is sort of desperate. I mean I of all people understand the need/want to party, but for instance one girl was relaying some adventures of hers in Italy etc. last year and bragging about having spent 800 Euros on piercings, tattoos, and hair dye on her trip. She was something like 29, but sounds remarkably like an 18-year-old to me. Congratulations that you did SO MUCH ECSTASY but, like, get a job. Also this self-righteous little brat from Israel was super-keen on trying to act discriminated against in every country in the Western World I was like are you kidding please get a job.

But I did meet some nice young people in their smoking room, a couple of kids from Colorado, another Canadian, another Australian. We chatted for a while, had some wine, smoked numerous spliffs. I went upstairs and watched half of 'The Dreamers,' more effecting since my Paris time has ended. Smoked a joint by myself in my room which I was sharing with three very tall Swiss-German boys and all their incomprehensible Swiss-German jokes. The weed that I bought was carefully selected after the "coffeeshop" owner across the street showed me every variety of weed that he had and taught me about pot law (not legal, but they always look the other way if you follows rules about amounts on the premises, under 18 statutes, cultivation, etc.), from the 2008 Cannabis Cup winner at 11.70 Euro per gram (a bit pricey, but just like back home really - Amsterdam weed is cheaper than you imagine) to the Royal Noir Afghani hash brick the color of tar and softness of leather. I chose "Blueberry Crush" since it reminded me of Ludacris and subsequently of Sunset Drive. Plus I found the buds, etc. to be quite fragrant and appetizing-looking. So, at the fairly good price of 7.90 Euro for a gram, I took one and proceeded to roll a little spliff with my new Dutch Drum tobacco and Dutch rolling papers.

Dutch is a hilarious language, kind of like English but harsher like German. The young men I met at the Marijuana Hemp and Hash Museum today who let me sample their vaporizer with crop from their huge grow operation on display behind them taught me some words in Dutch. One of the fellows was from Ohio and had moved to Amsterdam when W. got elected because he hated it so much. Now he manages a seed shop connected to the Museum selling these super-famous Dutch seeds made by Sensi Seeds. I asked the girl selling tickets how she liked her job and she said she loved it, and it wasn't just all the smoking, but the whole culture of pot in the Netherlands and their advocacy work for the utilization of hemp and their work with the crops. Jeezus. Sounds like a fun job to me. The museum itself was quite informative and interesting, with the Hemp Gallery down the street chronicling the history of hemp in the Netherlands, laid out in a super minimalistic and very Dutch sort of way with great electronica on the speakers. Got French and English translations of the signs around the museum and went through browsing lots of interesting history of Dutch "coffeeshops" and attitudes on the hemp plant.

Walking back to my hostel for a bit of relaxing and some supermarket searching (found one where the cashiers spoke English thank god; bought apples, clementines, loaf of crusty bread, CHEDDAR CHEESE, dried Dutch sausage (whatever, but it's delicious), some nuts, and pear juice), I unknowingly walked myself right into the middle of the infamous "Red Light District" where ladies of the night (or day) prance in windows along the street in tiny bikinis, wearing glasses or leather, but generally looking like normal ladies. I walked by and smiled at them, obviously not their desired customer. Got extremely lost looking for streetnames like Zeedijk and Sint Annenstraat (see, Dutch is kind of like English actually) and crept back into my Asian-owned hostel and sports bar The Globe Center (why "center?"). Now I'm posted up in the smoking room on my computer transferring money, blogging, drinking whiskey to combat the cold, and generally feeling like the wacky foreigner in the dark wooden bar in wintertime, here to overcome my crippling writer's block and find a Northern European lover. It's only half-incorrect.

Bisous for now.

The Dutch seem to value similar things to myself: casualness, general positivity, alternative forms of transit, making fun of themselves and everyone else, and beer. Also, they're really selling me on canals, which I am finding to be really lovely and full of ducks and swans even in the dead of winter.