Luxembourg
I had been traveling around Europe by myself for three weeks. At first I didn’t like being by myself. Then I didn’t like being with people. I had left Interlachen early that morning and I was boarding a train from Geneva to Luxembourg. The Swiss have the nicest trains. The Swiss have the nicest everything. I was headed to Amsterdam where I planned to blow the rest of my backpacking money then head back to London. I sat down next to a woman who I thought looked American. She turned out to be British. Nice lady, I believe her name was Amy. Just as we were pulling away from the station a man boarded the train and sat down across from us. He also looked American but my judgment was clouded by weeks on the road and an appalling lack of green. The last I had smoked was in Paris most of three weeks ago. I had tried to buy some hash in Barcelona but ended up getting totally scammed and buying what appeared to be hash but was in fact some kind of rock candy/petroleum product. That is another story.The man introduced himself as Joseph from Berkley. He was American. He entertained Amy and I all the way to Luxembourg. He was a street performer who was just traveling around performing on the European circuit. It seemed like he was doing well for himself. He was a juggler and he came from a lineage of circus and street performers. He regaled us with all kind of tales. I asked what kind of street performer did the best monetarily. He said that he had a buddy who did the basic ‘paint yourself gold from head to toe and just stand there’ act, and that guy did the best of any performer he knew. Joseph and Amy got along well and he spent a good deal of the trip just flirting with her.
When we got to Luxembourg Joseph and I both got off the train. I spent that first backpacking adventure in Europe without a guidebook. I just didn’t know any better. So I asked Joseph if he knew of a cheap hotel to stay at. He said that he did and that I should just follow him. We found the place he was looking for. It was only a few blocks from the station. As we were checking in it was getting late in the day. Joseph asked if I wanted to go with him to the center of town to see if he could get a show in before too late. I said sure. So we set off to the center of town.
Luxembourg is an old city featuring a massive valley, which is spanned by medieval bridges and great old ramparts. It’s really beautiful. It’s also very affluent. The city center was mostly empty when we got there. I had mentioned to Joseph how bad I wanted to score some grass. He said that being so close to Holland it should be easy to find some. He was looking for a crowd to entertain and at the moment, that moment being right before dusk, there were only a smattering of souls about. Some men were setting up a stage and putting out chairs for some kind of event that was happening later in the evening. There were a few hipster looking cats over in an outdoor café and there was us and that was about it. There were no crowds of tourists to be found. Luxembourg didn’t really seem like a very touristy place. The locals we had seen gave out looks of disdain for the young traveler and his street-performing companion.
Joseph was a juggler and so he opened his suitcase of props and began to juggle. I took a seat on a bench and just dreamed of Amsterdam. A smart looking man in a black vest and wearing small round spectacles appeared in the square. He went over to the outdoor café where the hipster types were straight chillin. I watched. Although from some distance away, maybe thirty yards, I distinctly saw the man hand one of the hipsters a little package. From the quickness of his movement and from the subsequent crane of the neck I could tell that he was trying to be very discreet. I assessed from my own personal experience that contraband of some sort had just changed hands. I asked Joseph if he saw it. “Saw what?” he replied. I said that I just saw that guy give the other guy something in a very discreet manner. He said that maybe the guy knew the coup or could at least point me in the right direction.
The man in the black vest started to walk away. Before he could get out of sight I crossed the square and approached him from behind.
“Excuse me,” I said. He kept walking. “Excuse me…uh pardon me,” he stopped and just as smartly as he was walking he swung around to face me.
“Yes, what is it,” he said.
He looked so the classic European intellectual with his little spectacles and his black vest and upon closer inspection his pocket watch whose chain dangled from his vest pocket.
“I was wondering if you knew where I could purchase some hashish”
He then did the strangest thing. He looked at his watch, and he looked back at me, and then back at his watch and he said, with some hesitation
“Well, er… actually, it is too late today. There will be a guy who comes around here later. He is tall with a pony tail,” he gestured pony tail with his hands, ”he will be able to help you.”
I was taken aback. Of all the answers I could have expected this was the strangest I could imagine. It’s too late today? I didn’t understand. I knew I had just seen him hand a bag out but maybe for him to help me he would have to go somewhere and come back or something. I didn’t know.
I thanked him for the tip and I really was quite appreciative. I started to walk away back to where Joseph was juggling. Just as I was getting back to the bench I turned around and the little man was coming towards me. He approached me and stuck out his hand.
“Here you go,” and he handed me a little baggie containing what looked like about a gram and a half of the rudest skunk weed I had ever seen. You can have this just in case you don’t find any. I thanked him again and before I had a chance to process what had just happened, he was gone.
I couldn’t believe my luck. I couldn’t believe it at all. A stranger in a strange land had just given me weed. Unprecedented I thought. Joseph and I went down into the little valley and smoked a spliff. I got so high I couldn’t see straight.
The crazy thing about that story happened to me next day when I went to Amsterdam. I was sitting in the lounge of the bed and breakfast I had chosen. Café Utopia was the name. I was watching a Euro ’96 match between Holland and France. The bar area had filled with the roughest bunch of hooligans I had ever seen. This dude next to me started chatting with me. At first I was a little scared because he was telling me that the boys there were all real soccer hooligans and that they traveled to opposing teams stadiums and started fights. I assured him that not only was I rooting for Holland in the international match at hand but I was also a big Ajax fan. He was real nice and we talked for quite some time. Near the end of the match he asked if I smoked hash. I found this interesting because I was currently smoking a spliff. I said that yes I did. He then pulled out this brick of dark black hash and he broke off a huge chunk. He handed it to me and told me to enjoy my stay in Amsterdam. When I offered to pay him for it he said~
“Oh no, that’s OK, we have too much here, we grow it in our houses.”
Two strangers in two days just giving me smokables, do you believe that? Well its true. True dat.
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