Scoring herbs in Amsterdam
The police in Portugal have come up with a great way to clamp down on hooliganism during Euro 2004. They have proposed to turn a “blind eye” to the smoking of canabis, figuring that the fans will be too stoned to kick up trouble. How is that for intelligent policing (if that isn’t a contradiction in terms)?
Hearing this on the news brings back memories of Amsterdam last summer…
John and I flew to Amsterdam on a mission to buy cheap tobacco for both of us and a year’s supply of salty liquorice for me. I was also looking forward to smoking the odd spliff.
I purchased some mild weed from one of the many coffeeshops but John, who does not smoke canabis, did not want to sit in the gloomy interior. Coffeshops are also no longer licenced to sell alcohol, so we de-camped to a sunny terrace overlooking a canal for a beer. The waiter approached with a drinks menu and an ice-cream chart. I asked whether it was permitted to smoke “you know what…er…” here in the open.
He laughed. “Of course,” he said: “You can’t buy or sell here, but you can smoke anywhere outside. Feel free!”
Looking around a little apprehensively to ensure I did not set a bad example to impressionable children, I lit up and took a relaxing toke. The stress of the flight was quickly forgotten.
The weather was perfect for a cycling tour around the city so we set off through the bustling streets in search of a bicycle shop.
“Hash, Ecstasy, Cocaine?” A bearded guy hustled up to us, for all the world to see, blatantly in the middle of a shopping area. We shook our heads: “No thanks!” We were accosted periodically. I laughed off the dealers, wondering whether everybody was perpetually off their heads in this city – it all appeared quite normal.
We passed one of the many “head shops” selling magic mushrooms and herbal aphrodisiacs. I decided to take a look inside. I wanted to replenish my supplies of kava, the relaxing herb of the South Pacific which I used to buy in our local health food shop. Read Maurice (“Moman”) Valentine’s brilliant story “The Kava King” for a little introduction. Taken in rather smaller amounts, kava is a mood-lifter and a tranquiliser, in fact it is nature’s own valium. I was struggling with moodswings as a side-effect of my antidepressants, and whenever I started snapping irritably and feeling the need for a drink, I dissolved three of the little capsules in a mug of milky tea, drank it and would feel better. I do not know how, but the irritation would mellow and the urge for booze would disappear. The herb is a godsend, but no sooner had I discovered it that it was pulled from the shelves. Apparently, some people had experienced liver failure while taking kava. In all probability, they had also taken alcohol or prescription drugs which can affect the liver. Even in the unlikely event that they suffered a reaction to Kava itself, a herb that has been used in the South Pacific for millennia, the general risk is miniscule. I am not belittling these cases, but there are people who suffer from potentially fatal nut-allergies and peanut butter has not been pulled from the shelves. Nor breakfast cereals for that matter. To prove the point, here’s a photo of our Lizzy partaking on a recent state visit to Fiji. Would they offer poison to the Queen of England?
In the headshop, I could re-stock my supplies and worry about the politics behind the licencing of herbal remedies another time.
We stepped inside and looked around the impressive display of aphrodisiacs, herbal chill-pills and natural amphetamines. There was even a herbal cocktail which promised to clean up traces of drugs from your system, handy for a job-medical. But I could not find any kava anywhere. I asked the guy at the counter.
“Kava-kava?” he asked, I think he actually looked alarmed. Maybe they were out of stock?
“Yeah, kava-kava, you know the relaxing stuff from the South Pacific.”
Now he definitely looked alarmed.
“Wait, I’ll check upstairs!”
I shrugged and we passed the time looking at a large chiller of magic mushrooms which would not look out of place in the vegetable section at Harrod’s food hall. I had to remind myself that we were in a head shop and it would be unwise to use these particular fungi in a stir fry.
After a few minutes the guy returned.
“You’ll have to ask the boss,” he said: “He’s out at the moment, can you come back in half an hour?”
“Sure,” we shrugged and went off to hire our bicycles.
When we returned, the boss was in. He pulled us to one side.
“You know,” he whispered although there was no-one in earshot: “that kava-kava has been banned?”
“What here as well?!” I exclaimed.
“Ssshhh…” he put a silencing finger to his mouth: “I may be able to help you…we have a little left in stock. How much do you want.”
“Oh, five packs.”
He nodded and disappeared upstairs. Once again we were left to look around the botanicals and a wide selection of smoking periphenalia and grower’s kits. Before long, our friend returned.
“Sorry”, he said apologetically: “I’ve only got three left.”
He charged us what they cost when they were still on sale. I had been lucky and scored. For a couple of months at least I could remain calm by resorting to a traditional herbal remedy instead of valium or booze…
P.S. Kava appears to be back on the shelves in Wales, so I hope to be able to get some there, although my moodswings have much improved since I am off the prescription drugs 🙂
Tags: Travel tales, Tag Index
Denni