i recently posted some information about the coffee shop scene in the south eastern town of Venlo. However it is a little hidden, inside my report on PHG which many smoke fans may overlook in the german section. therefore i thought it may be useful to repost it here for any tokers who arent regular readers of the 'other places' board.
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One Friday afternoon at the beginning of last month a plot was hatched via a couple of emails. Before i knew it I had agreed to finally lose my FKK virginity and to head down to Planet Happy Garden in Germany the following day. So 10am the next morning and I find myself nurturing a strong coffee and kali mist haze joint before heading down to centraal station to begin the mission. I had already decided that this would also be a good opportunity to check out the weed scene down in Venlo, en-route, so left any stash I had at home here in Amsterdam.
The train journey took in a change at both Utrecht and Eindhoven before finally arriving in Venlo around 1pm. I had deliberately left early enough to have a stop off on the way and still had approximately 2 and a half hours before my rendezvous across the border. So I exit the station and head off towards the town centre in search of fine marijuana. I had sort of guessed that the centre of town was going to be devoid of any obvious coffee shop type establishment and this proved to indeed be the case. Eventually after some asking about I found myself on the wrong side of the tracks, literally, behind the railway station entering a shop called ‘Nobodys Place’. Now, I suspect that the name derives from the longer version ‘Nobody in their right mind would hang out at this Place’. What a nasty little rat hole this is, like one of the worst red light district dirty coffeeshops, but having spent about half and hour already walking in circles I decided that a purchase here was the only way forward.
The queue for the weed counter was about 15 deep, I kid you not. Stretching back to the entrance and round the corner. Everybody appeared to be brandishing ID of some sort so I fished around for my passport in preparation. 10 minutes later im at the front of the line. ‘Do you have your membership?’ is the first question I get from the harassed dealer. Err, no, my passport. ‘We are a members club, you must buy a membership at the other counter first for 5 euro’. To be fair I should have known better because I had read about this scheme, which operates exclusively in Limburg, before. In resignation I take myself over to the drinks counter (soft drinks only) and start a fresh conversation with the young counter girl who appears to be stuck spending her entire day explaining the membership system in a myriad of different languages. She took down the various details from my passport then handed me a piece of paper with my name and date of birth written on it, a raffle ticket clipped to the corner. This in exchange for a 5 euro note on my part. I was told that if I returned after 7 days I would get my official membership card and that the 5 euro would be refunded to me in weed or hash. Ok, sounded a decent enough system, if I happened to be in Limburg again next weekend which of course was incredibly unlikely. So next I queue again for the weed counter, this time with the piece of paper in hand. By now im eyeing the clock, anxious that I don’t miss my once an hour train connection across the border to Vierssen. When I get back to the front I ask for a pre-rolled hash joint, given that I now only have very limited time and don’t want to carry contraband across the German border and risk spoiling my day out. ‘We are out of hash jointjes’ says the guy. Ok, this is turning farcical. I end up buying a 5 bag of a weed named ‘Sweet Jane’ instead. In fact this guy seemed to have been having a stoner field day when he named his 20-odd different buds as many had wonderfully exotic and inventive names. ‘Nitro’ was another of his personal recommendations. After all the drama of buying a 5 bag of weed I will say that it was a beautiful smoke, really really tasty weed. Reminded me of what Bubblegum was like back in the days when it was nice and actually did have that syrupy Bubblegum taste. It was such a shame that I had to ditch the other half of the bag shortly after id finished speed smoking the joint. And of course what do you know – no sign of anybody on the subsequent train journey across the border. Typical. Lessons learnt here all round – bring own stash next time. I couldn’t stand the hassle of all that again and the shop was totally rancid.
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doog!
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