Where to Buy Weed in Cape Town, South Africa--Weed Journal #9

I am Edgar Phillipe.

In the process of my travels to Earth, I developed an obsession for weed. After the long space ride through galaxies, wormholes, rides on asteroids, I had nothing to do but study, and I took a huge interest in what your planet calls “weed.” On my planet, it is called kibō. And now that I am here, on Earth, and have traveled around extensively, I can share some of the things that I have learned about your planet. I don’t know why I haven’t done it sooner. And They are coming.

Just to know: I shall not reveal the name of any dealers, pimps, or individuals that I might score from. Their anonymity is as sacred to me as it is to them. I do not know who is writing me for information; could be an eager, meager detective hoping to get another stripe, or a dumbass who doesn’t know how to keep their mouth shut. I shall only reveal establishments or locations where you may be able to get it… locations change/establishments close, and now that I am sitting on my favorite street in Bangkok, I see that things are business as usual. It might just depend on the night. Be that as it may, I will still point you in the right direction. As always, don’t look like a dumbass, act like a dumbass, or treat those you are dealing with like dumbasses, and you won’t go against the unwritten, unmentioned code about buying kibō abroad.

Buying weed in Cape Town is super easy!

Go to Green Market Square where all of the market tents are set up to sell travelers handcrafted souvenirs and trinkets, polished stones and sweet-smelling delights, and look up at the top of the tents. When you see the Rasta flag, go into this tent and march to the one that looks like the owner, the Rasta owner, and say you need a healer. He’ll say “I’m a healer, not a dealer. What can I help you heal?”

This blog is written after legalization in South Africa, but the information included was collected before legalization. Now you might be able to buy it from the taxi drive coming back from the airport. Do some research and you tell me, but if you go down to Green Market Square, tell the man in the center with the Rasta flag ontop that we are almost ready.


Where to buy weed in Maui, Hawaii--Weed Journal #8

I am Edgar Phillipe.

In the process of my travels to Earth, I developed an obsession for weed. After the long space ride through galaxies, wormholes, rides on asteroids, I had nothing to do but study, and I took a huge interest in what your planet calls “weed.” On my planet it is called kibō. And now that I am here, on Earth, and have traveled around extensively, I can share some of the things that I have learned about your planet. I don’t know why I haven’t done it sooner. And They are coming.

Just to know: I shall not reveal the name of any dealers, pimps, or individuals that I might score from. Their anonymity is as sacred to me as it is to them. I do not know who is writing me for information; could be an eager, meager detective hoping to get another stripe, or a dumbass who doesn’t know how to keep their mouth shut. I shall only reveal establishments or locations where you may be able to get it… locations change/establishments close, and now that I am sitting on my favorite street in Bangkok, I see that things are business as usual. It might just depend on the night. Being as that may, I will still point you in the right direction. As always, don’t look like a dumbass, act like a dumbass, or treat those you are dealing with like dumbasses, and you won’t go against the unwritten, unmentioned code about buying kibō abroad.

Buying weed in Maui is super easy! I rented a car from the airport and drove to Iao State Park. Go in the entrance, drive around the cul de sac at the end of the road. There should be some boys there with surfboard racks on their cars at the end of the lot just before you get back on the road to go out. I was polite, and it reminded me just now writing this to always say hello and be friendly.

And this is how my conversation went:

Me—Hello guys, I was just wondering if you’ve got any green?

Him—You a cop?

Me—No, I just like colors, man. (I should’ve asked, “Do you see how bleached my skin is?”)

Him—How much you want?

Me—How much you got?

Him—Come with me.

He opened the trunk and brought out a backpack of the best weed I’ve ever smoked in my entire life. It was about a quarter ounce of sparkly, sticky icky that must’ve been fertilized with elephant semen. Or gorilla. I saw the universe open up and let me peek at it, flooded by moments of my life, it gave me religious experiences, earth-shattering orgasms, and moments of leaving this dimension to the far reaches of another one. In those 6 days, each time, foolishly without trying to devise a different system, I tried to roll a joint and it was like superglue on my fingers. I couldn’t fucking roll one. I had no scissors and coming from SE Asian where kibō can be broken apart and rolled up nicely, dry spliff though, and each time I was astounded that this was the length of my problem buying it. A really good problem to have.

Halfway on this heavily thatched bamboo and banana tree-covered road I parked my car in a small spot on the side of the road, light up, and blew up. Like…my brain shattered into pieces that fit back together better when they reattached. I didn’t know that the name of this strain was Firecracker. I’m not sure what the name of it was, actually, but I would’ve named it Firecracker. No, I take that back, UFO Landing is a better name. It was so good that the thoughts flashing through my head slammed my ass into a beautiful half-paralyzed stasis, and at one point, drooling. I think I was there 137 hours and each phase of being human played into each hour differently. I became a thumb-sucking baby, I took on the role of Kal-El, I planned my family, severed the ties of somethings in the past. I had sex with every single woman in the entire world, all flashing back to me, back to thumb-sucking baby, and carried its way through. I’m lucky to be alive and to be human!

After that I watched sea turtles swimming in rocky patches of a small corner in a road-side park, snorkeling off of dive boats into coral reefs and wrote 1000 books in my head. It was $200 for this glorious bag, but when I saw how much he kept shoveling into the bag, I almost shouted “Jesus Christ” before I handed over my money and tasted it.

In the town of Paia there’s a guy who did see my ghost-like skin coming and took this Eagar, Meagar Man for $100. This was a different trip, different circumstances. I stayed on a side that had an enormous tree, a magnificent swing. This tree, it’s scraggly branches full of green leaves held ropes twenty feet long, like the arms of a daughter being held by the spotting hands of her father. It rained everyday mid-afternoon then always looked like it was going to rain, the sun occasionally peeking out to say hello and warm the air down below. I had a woman in my car that was an uneasy person by nature, made me uneasy about this… ah fuck it, no, I fucked up and became The Eagar, Meager Man. MY BAD. Her actions had nothing to do with mine. Luckily it was only $100, but it was my third and final time of being the Eagar Meagar Man in my life because it reiterated to me not to be a dumbass and taught me about one very smart rule: never give your money to someone to go and get your kibō. Don’t be like me, leave me to being me, and buy down on the beach at the public park from one of the guys walking around carrying backpacks. These are just a few of my Maui experiences. Three out of 18 years’ experience of doing deals and conducting myself in other countries in life isn’t that terrible. It’s not that bad to be The Eagar, Meagar Man overall. Overall.

After my last and final 420 ripoff, I ended up on the beach sulking a bit and was approached by a guy with a backpack who sympathized with me. “Hey man, if they do that, that’s bad business here for all of us. I’m sorry that happened to you.” The cost was $50, a smaller bag, but that trip I didn’t have enough time to smoke big fatty ones, only short, little puffs to enliven the soul.

Banana Bungalow in Wailuku is also a pretty great hostel to stay and party at. Wailuku is in a bit of a tough neighborhood where looking at someone can get you problems. Keep your eyes wandering, but never lock eyes with anyone if you wander out around and away from the hostel. BB is located down a quiet strip. Each day they take a van of travelers for tips around the island in a big van, a great way to make friends and lots of connections. Be yourself. You’re traveling and can be anyone you want, so be yourself, don’t be pushy or like the Eagar, Meagar Man and you’ll be alright.

And this info can be applied to anywhere you go. Now, Maui and Hawaii in general is about as open to weed as you can get. I think they don’t legalize it because they don’t want the entire planet to flock there. You might get asked by the airport driver, you might get approached on the beach, at a concert there; you never know where those 420 Angels are hiding.

Maui WEED QUALITY: Alien/5

PRICE COMPARED TO WESTERN COUNTRIES: 2/5

DANGER LEVEL TO BUY AND SMOKE: 1.5/5

Where to Buy Weed in Vientiane and Luang Prabang, Laos--Weed Journal #6

I am Edgar Phillipe.

In the process of my travels to Earth, I developed an obsession for weed. After the long space ride through galaxies, wormholes, rides on asteroids, I had nothing to do but study, and I took a huge interest in what your planet calls “weed.” On my planet it is called kibō. And now that I am here, on Earth, and have traveled around extensively, I can share some of the things that I have learned about your planet. I don’t know why I haven’t done it sooner.

Just to know: I shall not reveal the name of any dealers, pimps, or individuals that I might score from. Their anonymity is as sacred to me as it is to them. I do not know who is writing me for information; could be an eager, meager detective hoping to get another stripe, or a dumbass who doesn’t know how to keep their mouth shut. I shall only reveal establishments or locations where you may be able to get it… locations change/establishments close, and now that I am sitting on my favorite street in Bangkok, I see that things are business as usual. It might just depend on the night. Be that as it may, I will still point you in the right direction. As always, don’t look like a dumbass, act like a dumbass, or treat those you are dealing with like dumbasses, and you won’t go against the unwritten, unmentioned code about buying kibō abroad.

Buying Weed in Vientiane is super easy! Just visit out front of the Mila—y? Mila—x Temple? Coded.

I’d say the tuk-tuk drivers in front of any temple just about anywhere know where to get kibō. a short walk down a temple street and I saw the universal two fingers to the lips. I was the Eagar, Meager Man Jr. so I paid JUST ABOUT what he asked. You can always try the routine, “Nah, too expensive” comes out your mouth and you turn your back and walk away. He started at 250,000 Kip, got it down to 200,000 Kip, only flashed 190,000 Kip after checking all of my pockets. This is a trick I learned from before to get the price down a bit more. Know where all of your denominations are and pull out a bit less than the before. I’ve never used this trick, but this goes back to the golden rule: always be polite, friendly, and not a dumbass with dealers. You should always look for a friendly face, but even friendly faces can call the police on you after following you back to your accommodation, so never do a deal near or around your hotel. On this particular DAY, and yes, I did this during the day, I simply just didn’t have enough money. But it was accepted. I bought a bag that day, my friend came down with another half bag from Vien Vieng, and his airport transport driver gave me a lift back to the hotel after sending my bud off and pulls an enourmous top of what must have been a completely, hearty and healthy plant. 150,000 Kip for about 6 g. It’s everywhere. You need not worry your pretty little heads about finding it, just don’t be The Eagar, Meager Man. That’s me.

Luang Prabang

Outside of Utopia bar hit up the Tuk Tuk drivers there. Day or night.


Vientiane WEED QUALITY: 3.5/5

PRICE COMPARED TO WESTERN COUNTRIES: 5/5

DANGER LEVEL TO BUY AND SMOKE: 2/5

Where to Buy Weed in Sri Lanka--Weed Journal #4

I am Edgar Phillipe.

In the process of my travels to Earth, I developed an obsession for weed. After the long space ride through galaxies, wormholes, rides on asteroids, I had nothing to do but study, and I took a huge interest in what your planet calls “weed.” On my planet it is called kibō. And now that I am here, on Earth, and have traveled around extensively, I can share some of the things that I have learned about your planet. I don’t know why I haven’t done it sooner.

Just to know: I shall not reveal the name of any dealers, pimps, or individuals that I might score from. Their anonymity is as sacred to me as it is to them. I do not know who is writing me for information; could be an eager, meager detective hoping to get another stripe, or a dumbass who doesn’t know how to keep their mouth shut. I shall only reveal establishments or locations where you may be able to get it… locations change/establishments close, and now that I am sitting on my favorite street in Bangkok, I see that one of my previous journals might not be valid anymore for the “where”. Be that as it may, I will still point you in the right direction. As always, don’t look like a dumbass, act like a dumbass, or treat those you are dealing with like dumbasses, and you won’t go against the unwritten, unmentioned code about buying kibō abroad.

Colombo

Probably one of the dirtiest places outside of India I’ve ever experienced, where I was literally standing in a few centimeters of shit-filled water in the central bus station’s bathroom; however, I didn’t mind because I had a pocketful of kibō. When you got that, you could be hip deep in shit, even up to your chin in shit and it would still be a good day.

 Walk up to the tuk-tuk drivers, not one of them, but the group of them during the day, not at night across the street from Majestic City mall in Colombo. MC is right next to the train tracks, right next to the coast. A beautiful view with ship wrecks right off the coast, where you’ll see the cliché scene of a thousand people riding on top and hanging off the dilapidated train heading South to destinations unknown.

When you walk up, speak this phrase

“Ganja tienawada?”—Do you have ganja?

“Mama ganja bonna ona.”—I want to smoke ganja.

They’re going to speak back to you in Sinhalese, and if you can’t understand it, come back

“Mata terennai, namot ganja bonna ona.”—I don’t understand, but I want to smoke ganja.

Not only will they get a kick out of it, but if you ask them in a group, surely one of them will be able to take you to “the place” hidden among the backstreets of Colombo. I’ve always done this, and have never NOT scored from these guys. Not the best quality, but you’re not going to find any good quality around Sri Lanka, unless you know a guy, who knows a guy, who got some seeds from a guy from Europe or BC and grew a private plant in his backyard. I’ve had that happen before, but that was only after living in Sri Lanka building Jack’s Place in Kataragama for 8 months at the time. Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll tell you about the time I almost got arrested in Kandy about 3 days after an assassination of one of the highest government officials in 2005. But that’s for a different tail/tale.

Make sure to have enough small bills because you’re not going to get change for any big bills if you give them to the tuk-tuk man, and don’t keep your money all together. Carry it in a bunch of different pockets, and look as disorganized as you can when handling your money, disorganized In the sense that you’re taking your time finding anything. Trust me, it’s a Sri Lanka thing. If they see you have money readily available, they’re going to ask you for more, just because, cigarettes too, because in Sri Lanka, if you have something it is perfectly acceptable for someone to ask you for it, and if you’re Sri Lankan, you can’t say “no” when asked for anything. There really isn’t the word “no” in Sinhalese, just skillful speakers that know how to dance around the issue if they have something they don’t want to give. “Nai”—I don’t have it. Or “Nai, neh.”—even better, which really means I REALLY don’t have it. But also, if you answer really quickly with a small noticeable air in your voice it can be interpreted as I have it, but it isn’t something you’re going to get from me, so fuck off.

Learn the pronunciation of these phrases because the more authentic you sound, the easier it will be to score. Same goes for them, if you ask them of something, culturally, they are kind of required to give it to you, more so if you sound like you’ve been around Sri Lanka for awhile. I haven’t bought there in a minute, but at the time it was about 1000 rupees for 10 spliffs.

Hikkaduwa

If you’re around the Hikkaduwa area, steer clear of the beach. DON’T try to score around there. Chances are you’re going to get ripped off, get bad quality, and the guy is going to try to follow you around whenever he sees you trying to sell you more. And that has happened to me too. Any beach rather, but Hikkaduwa for sure since it is one of the more touristy spots.

But if you’d like to travel all the way to Jack’s Place in Kataragama, Sri Lanka, the place a bunch of us built with our bare hands and sweat to mix the cement, you can ask whoever is running the place that day and they’ll happily score some kibō for you. Go up the long red ladder at the back of the property and have a puff in my tree house while watching the mountains. Piss me off and have a sleep in it (piss me off because I haven’t slept in it yet).

Ella

Cafe One Love Rasta bar. Great people. I was able to smoke right at the table, but this was years ago. Best to do what nature intended—use your eyes to assess, ears to listen, nose to smell for any kibō, and your mouth to ask if it’s ok to smoke at the table.

Colombo WEED QUALITY: 2/5

PRICE COMPARED TO WESTERN COUNTRIES: 5/5

DANGER LEVEL TO BUY AND SMOKE: 1/5