Tag Archives: Spain

Spain decriminalizes the growing of cannabis

Spain decriminalize cannabis

Starting today, July 1st, you can now legally grow cannabis in Spain. This is massive news for medical growers, patients and those looking for a healthy alternative to alcohol. Spain has always been a leader in this newly forming industry. The country has produced talented scientists and ground breaking cannabis research. While the new law has many more questions to answer, it is clear what the intentions are.

The changes occur under article 36.18, stating that the cultivation of cannabis is only punishable “in public places”. Spain has a long love affair with the plant, even dictator Franco’s 1967 law forbidding the cultivation of cannabis was widely ignored. Punishment for small scale grows was often the destruction of plants and the confiscation of equipment. From today, growers and shops can sell seedlings once they are not openly on sale in a shop window.

There is one restriction, and that is you still can’t openly grow in a place that is viewable from a public space. Praguepot has no problem with this small restriction and wants to congratulate the hard work done by the brave Spanish activists.

A call to arms

Dear friends

On 10 and 11 March, in the Provincial Court of Bizkaia, Spain, the oral review will take place on the case against 5 members of the Pannagh association, one of the first Cannabis Social Clubs in Spain. The courtcase will start at 10 AM in the room nº 5, C/ Barroeta Aldamar, 10, Bilbao.

We wish to make an appeal on all activists, the cannabis sector in general and all consumers in particular, to participate in the support action of our colleagues from Pannagh during the days before and after the courtcase.


It goes without saying that THE ENTIRE ACTIVIST MOVEMENT is at stake in this courtcase. This case is not only about defending the honour and the dignity of the staff and the members, it can very well set an important precedent on the operational concept that our activist movement has to follow.


Remember……… #FreePannagh

FAC (Federación de Asociaciones Cannábicas)

Tlf: +34653869016


Drug law in the European Union

drugs law europe

What a complete mess! Sweden and Spain are the two extremes for the law on drugs in the European Union. Sweden follows a zero tolerance policy whereas Spain has decriminalized personal consumption. I was recently talking to a young Swedish person who didn’t want to, but had to smoke the legal synthetic cannabis instead of the real thing. He thought that the synthetic cannabis had messed him up, but he didn’t feel he had a choice. All his friends smoke synthetic pot regularly. I told him as strongly as I could, not to touch synthetic marijuana. It is dangerous and is mixed with strange chemicals in a warehouse somewhere in China. In contrast I have lived in Spain. Sharing a joint at the beach is a great way to spend an afternoon. I never made it to the Barcelona cannabis clubs but there was never a need to go to one as you could buy hash from the Moroccan guys or weed from Spanish friends.

Young European adults are exposed to the same western culture. Generally speaking, cannabis is seen as something fun and not dangerous. Science backs up this point of view but our governments treat cannabis as more dangerous than alcohol. The reason they do this is because America was so aggressive during the heights of their failed drugs war that they would economically punish countries if they didn’t conform to their ideas about drugs. Waves of propaganda left the public thinking that marijuana was something very bad. Thankfully today we are seeing the disastrous war on drugs coming to an end. In fact the American marijuana industry will soon be giving money to the politicians who I’m sure will then act in the industries best interest.

European citizens are in a state of confusion. Force fed a diet of American anti marijuana propaganda for decades it will take time to regain a factual approach and perspective to the herb. We have laws that currently make criminals out of European Union citizens for taking a substance into their bodies that is proven less dangerous than alcohol or tobacco. We are punished for the circular argument of, because cannabis is illegal it is illegal. Almost all European countries treat cannabis as different from other drugs. This special treatment of marijuana is nice, but people are still going to prison for possession. We need change. Medical marijuana has helped patients that get access to it. From chronic pain to cancer the plant has shown wondrous medical benefits so every day that drags along without Brussels or our elected governments talking and doing something about it, is another day that a chronic pain sufferer must either pump toxic chemicals into their bodies or live with the constant maddening pain their illnesses inflict.

I also feel sorry for the Swedish people forced to use synthetic marijuana. Their government has failed them and is now too ignorant to admit their mistake and correct it. Swedish people might have to battle long and hard for legal access to the plant. The sooner they get organized and have their voice heard the better. There are great organizations out there to help. Norml and Encod.org can give a framework for activism. Europeans that are pro pot must connect and cooperate with each other. Cannabis is our choice, not the whim of a bloated, intellectually stunted bureaucratic system. We must take our rights, not ask for them. Cannabis clubs are a safe, organized approach to the subject and we will see the results in the following months and years.

The time I nearly died from marijuana



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.