Two girls and a space cake in Amsterdam

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The land of limitless weed if you have limitless cash – who wouldn’t love it? The pungent smell of it has been seared into my mind as I spend eventual days smoking it in Germany (another story for another day, perhaps). In Amsterdam, weed is everywhere and despite a large number of her population tripping on drugs half the time, the city is clean and well-kept.

As planned, we dress up despite the 11 degrees weather. Turns out, Sarah has forgotten to bring her ID so we return to the apartment to retrieve it. This is when I whip out the space cake and tell her to let’s eat it now so that it will take effect as we dance to trance in the club. Clubs in Europe are huge on trance music you see – horrible songs to party to if you ask me.

What’s a night out without something epic to bring home to, right? That night, we learn that the Dutch are even more pro at cutting queues than the annoying, shamelessly unabashed aunties and ah mas back home. I find it extremely hilarious how they would creep up behind a group, start making small talks and just move along with the queue, pretending that nothing is amiss. This despicable act keeps reenacting until the queue balloons up into a monstrosity which never moves. Frustrated, Sarah and I give up clubbing, even forgetting the space cake happily lodged in our stomach.

I should have been wiser since this isn’t my first time but I forget to be careful. As we speed walk to catch the Night Bus from the nearest bus stop possible – the happy weed begin to enter our bloodstream and mess up my entire peripheral vision. Yep, we are two ladies stoned in the middle of the night with no idea where the bus stop is located. I still have it in me though to grab fries from a random shop – ordering Sarah to eat it as well. We walk for at least 30 minutes – standing on the wrong side of the road thinking we have found the bus stop when it is actually a random road sign (LOL to that) and memorising the wrong bus numbers which could have failed the entire mission.

In the end, we board the correct bus. I keep hallucinating and seeing colourful lights everywhere and anywhere. The eclectic colours remind me of those laser lights but the weird thing is, people’s faces keep zooming in and out as well – they aren’t very pleasant. Worse, Sarah says she feels as if I summoned something out of her as I screamed her name. To top it off, the bus ride is filled with many sharp turns and remains bumpy 3/4 of the journey.

When we reach the last stop, I immediately purge all the fries I ate earlier on with Sarah realising half a minute later what is happening to me (OMG Yuh Ting is puking! I must go help her! She tells me this thought-process of hers much later). We realise that our apartment is on the other side of the stadium and we have no idea how to get there. 2am and with the temperature dropped to at least 6 degrees, I give up and resign myself to either freeze to death or miraculously survive the night despite sleeping out.

I have no idea how – but she manages to hail a cab and begins the arduous task of explaining to the driver where we  are staying. After 20 minutes of babbling in English and Dutch on each side, we finally reach home  – numb from the cold, high from the weed, moneyless from God-knows-what and plain relieved we will live to tell the tale.

Quite a fail get-high session if you ask me. But fear not, we plan to go back next year and this time, we shall do it right by staying in and blasting reggae music the entire night. For now, Amsterdam remains a place of eclectic colours and creamy space cakes with fries-aftertaste.

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