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, and rides on asteroids, I had nothing to do but study. I took a considerable interest in what your planet calls “weed.” On my planet, it is called kibō. And now that I am here, 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 in the absolute, most gorgeous little town in Laos where I'm higher than a kite in more ways than not, I see that business is a boooomin’. Kind of like Thailand twenty years ago. It might just depend on the decade. 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’t go against the unwritten, unmentioned code about buying kibō abroad.
Buying weed, just buying weed in Cambodia, but in Vang Vieng, it is so easy you might accidentally do it. I have only clumped "Where to buy…" stories from the whole country into one big blog, but Vang Vieng deserved… deserves its own story. I ended up finding a guy in Luang Prabang that had a van who drove me all around the waterfall and took me to a cafe where the owner showed me his kibō plant that was growing right at the entrance. And at the end of the night, took me to a half-lit basement with kids around playing Nintendo Switch games. A guy brings out a little baggie… blah blah blah… anyway, this driver convinced me to come to Vang Vieng.
I didn't know/kind of still don't know where I am on Laos's map, but that's neither here nor there. I thought I was further north, but one of the craziest bus rides later (minivan), and I'm more than halfway back to Vientiane. Now, I've had some wicked experiences on buses around the world. I remember one in Nepal where we were on one of those cliched roads, dusty and precarious, that doesn't have pebbles or even small rocks that lay upon it. It doesn't have asphalt nor concrete to hold it together, just a cut-out pathway along the edge of a drop-away cliff, with giant stones under our wheels, held together with a minimal amount of packed dirt. Our road got scarier and scarier from the back corner seat. I watched the rocks slide away from the outside lane and down the mountain when oncoming buses crossed our path. That's how close we were to our back tires coming off and our bus falling past a safety-wallless edge, down a 100-meter ravine. I also remember a bus ride in the same country, riding into the Himalayan valley sitting atop the bus, giant skyscraper snow-capped mountains coming into view.
This particular bus ride during a Lao dry season was like riding a kid's rollercoaster—you know, it isn't scary for a grown adult. Still, it has some twists and turns that whip you around for two minutes and a couple of giggly jumps that get your stomach up and out of its normal position. Now imagine that same ride extended to a six-hour bus ride--grown adults sleeping and having their heads whipped around like tetherballs. The driver tries a rally car run up a mountainous, switchback-filled road in a 19 passenger packed to the tits minivan. A large man (150 kg) with tattoos on all limbs who is riding shotgun is swaying our payload. I doze off past 20 km/h usually. It doesn't matter in what kind of vehicle or the state of the road. I had to develop this new kind of system to hold myself in place as I slept so I didn't play bumper-car bodies with the other passengers but had to wake up every 45 minutes or so because the blood circulation was being cut off from my hands. The "oh shit" handle on the back of the seat in front of me isn't "handy" for jamming your hands into to anchor yourself as you sleep.
The bus arrived a little bit before dusk, and to find the town and the river with all its activity, all one needs to do is point themself West and walk towards these massive, jagged-like boulder mountains sitting in the background of Vang Vieng. I didn't have a reservation at any hotel, something I always prefer to do because I can slowly walk through the town looking into places, checking out rooms, gaining wifi passwords, and reliable stops along the information highway. Vang Vieng is a laid back town with a hippy sort of vibe. Much different than places seen before in Lao. Tubing or kayaking down one of the Mekong tributaries is big business for this town, and as I sit on the rooftop writing this from high (and high), I can see them drifting down one of the biggest Lazy River rides on the planet. A few small rapids along the way, but nothing the novice kayaker/tuber can't handle. I arrived with just enough money to get a room key at a place called Freedom Hotel.
And this is where the plot thickens… They around me, I smoke one of the ones I brought from Luang Prabang and my waterfall driver and decide to head out. I had no money, no food, no papers, and the kibō situation I wanted to figure out before I ran out, which is one of the most annoying times to go look for it, isn't it? It's like a vegan going to the grocery store hungry and only finding meat. You start to get "hangry". At around 9 pm, I set out walking to find and solve all of those problems, food, the last on the list. Took me two seconds to find an ATM. Money, check. Took me 10 more minutes than usual to find papers. Papers, check. Yet, as I walked, I didn't see any tuk-tuks, no groups of Lao guys standing together at corners, no drivers shouting out to ME "hey, tuk-tuk?" as I walked by. I walked around as long as I could stand it, past being hungry and all the way to the point of wanting another joint. So, after not finding any mischievous looking fellows, I turned back, sad, defeated, and feeling the first 'pang' of "no weed" stress even though I only had enough for another 2 days. What terrible problems to have, no? I came back to my room, fulfilled the prophesized spliff, and slowly ventured out, not wanting to go far. I had been gone for 45 minutes! This should be easier than previously thought! I could've thrown a rock at it. I probably could've run and done one of those Olympic jumps where I hop, hop, jump, but the weed SANCTUARY, the HOLY Heaven for traveling stoners, was LITERALLY right across the street… IS LITERALLY across the street from Freedom View Hotel, MY HOTEL. I walked in and didn't think anything of it, and at this time, I was still unaware that I was sitting in a holy region of the world. Stoner Fucking Central. More Central than Amsterdam. Amsterdam copied everything from this bar but stopped when the Opium War staked its claim.
Everyone looked NORMAL, and I didn't smell anything that would've set my nose on glorious fire. I only went in there because this jagged rock ashtray on the bar looked like a plate of half-eaten food from the street. When I sat down, I saw it wasn't half-eaten food on a plate, nor was it a plate, and it had, what… could it be? Could that be a half-smoked spliff of green goodness I see in that half-eaten hamburger looking ashtray? And then he did it, the bartender. He changed my life forever. He slapped down a menu that is to become and will be, the menu of all menus. It is a menu with anything you could possibly want (and a few things a Nature Boy, Ric Flair like myself would never try.) It has sustenance, and it has self-induced forms of myopathy, mind-bending pleasure, and body relaxing delight. It has lying and deceit, truth and acceptance. The angel rests on one side, while the devil is on the other. It is a movie script written out in shorthand form, the birth of demigods, and the downfall of a person's society, all in a menu. It was, is, glorious. And now that I can hear Whitney Houston softly strumming out of Pang Pang Norebang, the smell of Handjob Heaven for Korean male singing enthusiasts, calling to me to venture down and chose the door on the right to enjoy a coffee and a kibō spliff. I shall exit Freedom View Hotel and see how many steps I can count on my fingers and toes across the street to door number two.
So, if you’re in Vang Vieng, check out Jai Dee bar opposite Freedom View Hotel, where you can purchase things that will elevate you, take you on playful journeys around the roller coaster of your mind, and might even wake you up in a few years time with a prostitute and a baby on the way, or at best, kill you or seriously get you into trouble if you fall into any dumbass categories. If you’re like this self-proclaimed neo-hippy enthusiast, stick to all things natural that you’d see in a Lewis Carol novel, not something from an episode of Breaking Bad. Smoke freely at the Jai Dee (Be Kind) Bar, eat a mushroom pizza that can be whipped up and taken away to enjoy in the confines of your own room. Relax, because you’ve made it to a neo-hippy stoner’s Elysium Fields.
*Rasta Bar, Space Bar, and Full Moon Bar are worth checking out too, but I’d stick to Jai Dee bar. The name is cool enough.
Vang Vieng WEED QUALITY: 4/5
Hash Quality: 5/5
Happy Pizza Quality: Holy Jesus/5