It is absurd that marijuana is regarded as a dangerous plant. If you have an hour to watch the latest scientific research into the anti cancer, anti inflammatory and pain relieving benefits of weed then stick this youtube video on. If you don’t have the time, relax and keep smoking pot, as it is keeping you healthy!!!
Monthly Archives: August 2014
Durban poison. Yeah man, now that is a strain of pot I can believe in. She comes from the strictly sativa side of the pot family, and I had the good fortune to be in South Africa the first time I smoked it. South Africa is one of those magical places, where everything is a bit of an adventure. Blue skies and long straight highways. I was traveling with a friend, staying stoned and as generally wasted as possible. I don’t know if that is a smart thing to do or not, just know it was a lot of fun. So we would go around, living off the african weed bounty. Every so often you would feel electrified because you were lucky enough to be smoking Durban poison. Each time with a big, shit eater grin I would ask the person who brought it, what planet was this grown on!
I remember we were staying in a place just outside Umkomaas. The sun was low in the sky when we arrived. We were staying in a funky old hostel. Built on the side of a steep hill, with beautiful gardens leading to each cabin. The Indian Ocean spilled off to the side and the breeze was a mixture of the ocean and blooming flowers. We unpacked our bags, rolled a couple of joints, and watched the sun go down from our sturdy wooden terrace. Far out to sea, we watched some dolphins swimming. The hippie bar girl just sat beside us in silence. Giving us time to take in our new surroundings. We went on to have a crazy few days there. Partying and meeting new friends. Of all the memories of that place none are as strong as the first few glimpses of the Indian ocean from that terrace and, each time I smoke Durban poison, I am brought back to that lovely place. A friend is currently growing some for me over here in Prague. Sometime in November I will be back, at least in my mind, to that hill, the hippie girl and golden African sunshine, as we toke on some Czech grown Durban poison
When I was in my early twenties I used to live and work in Spain. I had left my friends and family back home in Ireland and sought my fortune in the world. Being separated from the ones I loved was hard, so when the opportunity to either go back home and party or have friends come out, I always jumped at it.
Ryan and Eavan had one of those stormy relationships. They were desperately in love with one another but they were also prone to hate each other too. I loved them both, and I loved the drama of having them both together staying with me in Spain. It was another scorching June when they arrived. This was before the economic crisis hit so all of the world was rich in time and money. This was going to be a fun couple of weeks. And even though I still had to work, that wasn’t going to stop me from going out with them. Cheap drinks and bars that stay open all night. And of course the drugs. Spain is one of the first ports South American people reach when they are trying to stay in Europe. For this reason there is always great cocaine available. This story however deals with Moroccan hash, and a near death experience.
Ryan and I had bought some hash from my local dealer, a cool Marrakech guy with a missing index finger. I knew they chopped your hands off for stealing in Saudi Arabia, so I always wondered what he had done to lose his finger. Anyway, after a quick beer we were off back home to make hash ice cream. We melted the ice cream and put in quite a lot of hash. Being summer in Spain, it would be nice to have a little of it all week. After mixing well we left the ice cream to re freeze and went out to see what kind of trouble we could find.
The next day was spent recovering from the night before and showing them around my small Spanish city. The bars that I liked and the friends I had made. Introducing Ryan to tapas food, his only concern was that he didn’t want to eat bulls balls. I had never eaten or seen bulls balls on a tapas menu but that didn’t stop me telling him afterwards that he had eaten various kinds of cojones. I had taken the Saturday off work, which meant I would have to work Sunday, so without too much drinking we headed on home to tuck into some lovely strawberry flavored hash ice cream. We each had a bowl and settled down to watch a movie. Three hours later I was very disappointed to observe no effects of the ice cream. Maybe we hadn’t mixed it right. We had a little more, just in case you needed a larger amount when you mix it with ice cream. Another couple of hours and still there was no effect. It was near midnight by now so I decided to eat the rest of the ice cream with Ryan and then went to bed disappointed.
Around an hour or so after falling asleep I awoke in the middle of a panick attack. My heart was beating hard in my chest. I had never experienced something like this before. I tried to calm my body and mind but to no avail. Eventually I had to go into my friends room, as by then I was sure I was about to have a heart attack. I was waiting for and visualizing that searing rip you must feel in your chest as your heart gives up. They thought I was joking and told me to fuck off out of their room. So I sat on my old familiar blue sofa in the dead of a Spanish night, waiting. Staring straight ahead at the turned off tv the room suddenly shrank to the size of a pin head. This was a troubling new thing to deal with. When I refocused, the single pin prick view of the room exploded into a thousand pin views. I had no idea what was happening. I was panicking, this was a fun fair roller coaster I had not given consent to be on. I was desperately trying to see straight when my vision went angelic white. Everything was now still and calm. I could see nothing but a warm, bright white light. So this is what death is I thought. It isn’t so bad. I hope I can find my way to heaven, or at least find my fellow sinners in the queue to hell. And then I blinked with my living room coming back into cristal clear view. Fuck this I said, I’m dying and those lazy bastards in the next room are going to drive me to the hospital. I will not go down without a fight. So I went crashing into their room, shouting about heart attacks and imminent death. Obviously from my present state they were now taking me seriously.
i don’t remember how we got into the tiny ford ka but when I next came round to some form of a conscious state Ryan was angrily asking, where the fuck is the hospital. Sitting in the passenger seat peering through the glass front window I had no idea where anything was. The street seemed somewhat familiar. The rising road lined with Palm trees did ring a bell. We were now parked on the middle of the road. Ryan in the driving seat, Eavan in the back, tensely grabbing Ryan’s shoulder. I had no idea where the hospital was and I was no longer the only one panicking. Ryan said we were doomed, and I believed him. Then, like Jesus coming down from heaven we saw a jeep slowly approaching us from the opposite direction. It was the guardia civil. For those who don’t know there are two police forces in Spain. The local police (wusses) and the, take no shit guardia civil. At about 5 miles an hour they rolled past us. My mouth was open in horror as I studied each sun hardened face in turn. Even though we had stopped in the middle of the road and were in a state of great distress, staring at them in the middle of the night they didn’t stop. Spanish people would not be famous for their proactive approach to life, and I’m sure these cops thought, fuck eet, let’s go mess with the prostitutes instead. I remember as they slowly drove away thinking that I should try and flag them down, surely they would have a first aid kit to help with my imminent heart attack.
So we sat there. No police, no hospital, just sheer terror and hopelessness. You could actually taste the panick in the air. When all of a sudden, beautiful little Eavan piped up from the back seat. “Guys, weren’t we eating a shit load of hash ice cream earlier, and is it possible that we are all just really fucked right now”. And just like that the spell was broken. We looked at each other and burst out laughing. I still couldn’t find my way home but we parked the car and took a leisurely walk through the Spanish night.
Let’s get down to the nuts and bolts of buying weed in this city. So you are fresh off the plane, train or motorway vein and are looking to get stoned. You have three ways to find the herb.
The first and simplest way to buy pot here is to walk up to the black guys at the bottom of Wenceslas Square and demand that they sell you some. They have weed and will definitely sell it to you after a small amount of arsing around. The black guys are mostly trying to bring drunk stag parties into various strip clubs, but they are for the most part friendly and nice. Their collective niceness however does not make up for their dreadful marijuana. It is the cheapest produced and sold at the highest price. Not a good introduction to Prague’s pot but you do get stoned. Buy a bag and head down to the river. A gram should be about 300 Czech kroun.
The second way is to know which bars are both weed friendly and actually selling the stuff. Chapeau rouge is one of those bars. Again it is black guys selling it, and again the quality is the same as on the street. I don’t go to this bar as you can also buy heroin and other heavy duty drugs. The bouncers are coked up and waiting for even the slightest amount of trouble. Chapeau rouge is in the center and gets lots of tourists passing through. As a last resort you could try there but I really don’t recommend the place. There is another bar called shotgun. It is in zizkov ( a little outside of the center) and is kind of a marijuana club. You go in, buy a beer and then ask for some weed. 500 korunas for 2 grams. It is usually pretty good weed with a friendly vibe. There are other bars, but depending on when you read this they may or may not be still around. Email me for an up to date list 🙂
Finally the third way to get weed in this city is to know a grower. Luckily I know one or two and have been swimming in great weed ever since. Growers using great seeds and a sweet growing environment will give you the kind of weed that this historically beautiful city calls for. Sensi seeds, Dutch passion, paradise seeds and Dinafem are well established European seed banks which the growers I know use. They have done a hell of a job producing some of the best weed from the best seeds on the planet. Walking around Prague after a durban poison bong is a wonderful thing.
I hope this helps, and whether you are a local or a visitor please share your own experiences of Prague.
I am sitting at my desk feeling very sorry for myself. Last night an old friend came back into town. Prague is famous for a lot of things, beer being one of them. Things started off gently enough. A favorite Irish bar (the James Joyce) began the journey. Then a dive bar, and another and another! The night flowed into morning and has lead me here. Headache, dampened spirit and a general lowness that comes with over indulging (I am Irish so a certain amount of overindulging is expected).
When I compare my present state with the morning after a heavy smoking session it makes one thing very clear. Cannabis doesn’t give you a hangover. In fact, I usually feel refreshed after a night out smoking. Marijuana is a non toxic substance, if you want to prolong your life but still party, then say no to alcohol ( and tobacco) and embrace the fuzzy love that comes with pot.
Like nearly every other country, the Czech Republic is in the midst of a battle between the young and older minded generations. Older generations, having grown up with a force fed Government line on just about everything, still reflexively listen to and go along with the authorities when they say pot is dangerous and should remain illegal. This is in stark contrast with what most young people know to be true. You don’t die from pot, you don’t get poisoned by it. You just get high and enjoy yourself.
We have read the information on pot. Seen the research and experienced the truth. Brave activists from here and all over the world have been fighting for our pot rights and suffering at the hands of militant police forces. The police are hammers viewing every situation as a nail. If, as is the case with pot, that the punishment is more harmful than the crime, then it is time to review and change the law. The American inspired war on drugs has failed. It has filled for profit jails and ruined non violent people’s lives.
Young people are sick of slick talking political operatives. If we want change though, we all need to be involved. I love weed, and want to see it as a normal part of Prague life ( especially when I see the negative consequences of alcohol ) but to get change, we must work together. Write, sing or find your own unique way to get the people around you involved in changing shit up.
Don’t get me wrong, there is a high tolerance to pot in Prague. On the law books it is technically still banned even if in practice it is allowed. America is decriminalizing pot, time for the Czechs to do the same.
Fake or not, I love it!!