I am Edgar Philipe.
In the process of my travels to Earth I developed the obsession for weed. After the long space ride through galaxies, wormholes, rides on asteroids, there was nothing to do but weed. And now that I am here, on Earth, 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”. 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.
Where to buy weed in Siem Reap, Cambodia.
Pub street is the most famous street for partying in Siem Reap. Walking down a sidewalk alone is the best option. This is Cambodia where weed is sold right in front of police stations, but you always, ALWAYS must demand discretion. There are scams all over the world where people sell you the weed, then sell the information to the cops who will then come and extort as much as you have and will pay to stay out of jail.
The first day when I arrived to my hotel it was easy. The tuk tuk driver that picked me up (hotel perk) asked me if I wanted to find anything in Siem Reap that he was my guy, and this was walking to his ride in the airport parking lot. He asked about girls and I said, “I’m ok.” After a long space ride I just wanted a joint. So I proceeded to ask about some “happy” smoke. “Happy” in Cambodia when attached to certain words like “smoke” and "pizza” are usually implied, but he took me to the corner store to show me the Marlboro Reds. I said, “no, maaaaaan… ganja.” After that, he understood and took me to the hotel. He was young, nice, and had a huge smile. He was smiling more when I gave him a three dollar tip for working out the details and hooking me up in the end. Always give a big tip, even if the weed is shit. It’s always nice to have an eager beaver on your side, and you are also ensuring he’s not going to say anything to anyone important. Hotel staff are usually the most reliable/safest for more dangerous countries where it is still possible, but extremely risky. The bag WAS shit. $20 for three big, jumbo paper-sized joints. It probably had 100 seeds and some more stems in the pack. Tasted like fuck all, harvested way before it was ready and also mostly male, so it didn’t have anything great about it. Nice head buzz, but nothing more.
The next day I decided to venture out on my own. I googled “happy pizza Siem Reap” and came up with this place:
Before I even went in, the tuk tuk driver approached me in the middle of the day, right across the street from the police office with the peace-sign-puff-smoker fingers to his lips and asked me if I wanted “smoke”. I said I was going too get some happy pizza and I’d see him in a minute. He pulled his tuk tuk right too the door and waited for me.
I ordered a large pizza with feta cheese. $10. I told him to make it “happy”. Another $5. With a Coca Cola (not the coke the tuk tuk drivers are trying to sell that’s probably cut with any kind of white powderish substance they can find, drain cleaner included) bill came to $16 bucks. I took half the pizza home.
Before the all-night body buzzing started, I paid my bill and walked out to be hit by two drivers now wanting to sell to me. I asked to check the bag, which he pulled out. I asked if I could smell it, which I did. I pinched the bag, and when I looked up noticed a cop sitting on a plastic chair staring at us smiling, to which I said “the cops are watching us.” He grabbed the bag, told me to jump in and we sped off down a side street. I gave him 20 bucks and he took me back to my hotel. Stupid move on my part. Never let anyone you buy from know where you live. It wasn’t a major risk on my part, but still, any risk can lead to spending time in a place you don’t want to be in or paying an ungodly amount of money to some people that might be doing that as a .steady business. Days after that I didn’t take that same risk and just learned the city a bit and walked everywhere with my awesome maps.me app. No we don’t get an endorsement. The bag was better, now about 4 big joints worth, but I mixed it with a little bit of rolling tobacco to cut out the shit flavor of the weed and help it burn a little (this was a little fresher and moister). But I’m thinking, I just came from Thailand where the weed is better, cheaper, and sold in places that are paid off (another journal entry coming), so I’m sure I can find something better.
Karma Bar. Something better.
Bags there were like a half inch (1.5 cm) smaller in dimensions, but almost no seeds, and just as much weed, if not a little bit more (4 joints +) for $10. If you buy one bag, you might get a choice if you just walk right in like I did. The second day I walked in I asked for two bags. One was thick, one was thicker, but stingy me asked to see other bags to switch one up (he had 4) but he said those were the last two left. Note to self, third time going in there, sit down, buy a drink, and chat him up.
Where to smoke:
I usually smoke in the bathrooms of the hotels I’m in. Some have exhaust fans, some have windows, some don’t, but putting your ashes from a joint in an ashtray or letting a bowl filled with residue lying around ain’t the best of places. Bathrooms in SE Asia usually have the shower/toilet built on the same floor, so it’s possible to ash on the floor and spray it down the drain. I usually just crumble up the used filter (a piece of a business card or such rolled up) and flick it into the garden. Generally putting it in the trash isn’t recommended or flushing it. You don’t want any maids finding it or plumbers coming up to fix your shitty, plugged up toilet because you’ve got a dozen joint filters backing up the pips. I treat my smoking like I treat my hiking/camping: take nothing but photographs, leave nothing but footprints, kills nothing but time. Wait… fuck that, I never take pictures of my weed to have on my phone for an immigration agent snooping or random asshole to find. Well, until this journal started (see below).
The best is if you can find a rooftop to smoke your joints (looks like a cigarette from the distance). I always check the wind. Yeah, I’m a geek. I actually picked a slow side street and walked down the street with a buried half joint in my hands taking puffs on a stretch of no people. Motorbikes and people walking by might smell in, but they never knew where the smell came from. Looking around like a guilty asshole to see if anyone is watching is the tell-tale sign you’re doing something you shouldn’t be doing, so just play it cool and don’t be too obvious. Next, I’m looking forward to the 20 minute ride to Angkor Watt smoking a joint in the back of the tuk tuk taxi, but for now, I’m off to get some more happy pizza.
Siem Reap weed quality: 2/5
Price compared to Western countries: 4.5/5 (Karma Bar)
Danger level to buy and smoke: 1/5
Weed shown is bag #2 from Karma Bar, $10
Happy pizza with the “happy” from Happy Angkor Pizza, $15-17 for a large, $10-12 for boring pizza.
