Marijuana Mayhem: Tales of an Unsuspecting Traveller

The Netherlands is a country I believe I have a karmic connection with. I have been going there once every year since 2008. I live a staid lawyer’s life in India; all my hours are accounted for in advance and there is little room for adventure in my days. However, that changed on one balmy Sunday when I left Den Haag (where I was on an assignment for a month) to visit Amsterdam. Unlike many young tourists who visit Amsterdam to experience the freedom of smoking marijuana and gazing at beautiful women without being charged with harassment, I was looking forward to discovering the city through its museums and canals. After a culturally enriching afternoon spent studying the Van Gogh and Anne Frank museums, my craving for a cookie led me to a cheerful ‘coffeeshop’ where I was offered a candy-sprinkled brownie (it was only later that I learned that my innocent looking dessert was actually a space cake!). My first evening in the city brought me many novel experiences: I sang with gusto with a street singer as my brain entered a parallel universe, and I heard ticket checkers on the train back to Den Haag talk in an Indian dialect. To make matters worse, after eight trips on the same tram, I was not able to figure out the stop which led to my hotel. I was also pursued by a policeman who ultimately delivered me to my doorstep. While those were my many moments of infamy which I hope to relay to my future grandchildren, the experience was also a lesson for always making informed choices while on the road. Further, I learned that when travelling alone, it is a bad idea to try something one has never done at home before. Many trips and some wisdom later, I know that though I am rubbish at handling my weed, I am fabulous at travelling solo. I also know that while no trip to the Netherlands is in the offing so far, my passport is going to be stamped at Schiphol airport at some point this year.