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Lombok buy weed

It was my first time outside of a western country. It was my first time in Asia proper and everything was bright and vivid and new to me: the scents, the architecture, the people, the food, the drinks, all of it seemed like another world. It felt as though I had wandered into a fantasy novel. But it was only Kuta. Which, for the unfamiliar, is not exactly a paradigm of paradise. Kuta is more like the Mos Eisely of the Pacific, a true hive of scum and villainy, a place where rowdy Australians go on holiday to break things, drink things, eat cheap, buy sex and feel lucky. There are many beautiful parts of Indonesia and many beautiful parts of the island, Bali. However, Kuta is not necessarily one of them. Kuta is a place for scoundrels. The Australians had warned me. But reality has a funny way of derailing my intentions. Money, that great and powerful illusion, was a necessary evil that I was running out of. And quickly — as always. Which meant that my journey was nearing its end. The End. The terminus of a long tramping campaign that had taken me from Colorado to California to Australia and now to Indonesia. It had been an insane journey, full of new places, new faces, beer, wine, weed, women, beaches, wild animals, wild parties and psychedelic mushrooms you can buy all the psilocybin in the world in Bali, legally. But cannabis? Nah that stuff will get you 5 years easy. Anyway, this was my final morning. It was 4 a. I had determined not to. Why bother? I thought. Why tease myself with a few hours of honest rest and waste my last glimmer of Asia unconscious in a bed? I was going to fight through the fatigue I already felt creeping over me, order a goddamned pizza from the kitchen, watch the sunrise and bask, alone, in the rays of one of my last days on the road. Like a true tramp. The Surfer Bliss Hotel pool. Where it all went down. The pizza arrived quickly, but my solitude was not absolute. Across from me, likewise enjoying an early morning pizza, was an agent of fate, a karmic emissary come to test the size of my testicles. He was a portly Indonesian fellow. Mid-forties probably, burned out, inked up and dangerous looking. And he wanted to talk. I did want to smoke some weed. I almost always do, when the opportunity arises. I love weed. Weed is my weakness, my vice of vices. However, I was also wary. Just the idea of smoking bud in a country so strict and tight assed about pot gave me The Fear. But this man was not offering to sell me weed, he was offering to smoke it with me, I reasoned. I had not sought the marijuana out. It had sought out me. So where did that leave us? Besides, a good blaze before my flight home sounded like just the ticket. Nothing makes a long flight more digestible than a good blaze right beforehand. If you are a tourist caught in possession of cannabis, the minimum sentence is four years in prison. They do not take kindly to drugs in that country — even though psychedelic mushroom smoothie stands line the streets and men selling Viagra out of hollowed out AA batteries prowl the sidewalks at night like horny ghouls. I knew all this. And still, only moments later, this stranger and I were passing a dokha bowl packed with weed back and forth, laughing, bullshitting, talking about tattoos and women. Finishing our pizzas. Phelix was a local. He was a father and a husband, who, as he explained, was staying at the Surfer Bliss Hotel because his wife had kicked him out. This man, whoever he was, was dark. Something about him made me uneasy, unsure and anxious. Or maybe that was just the weed? It had been a while since my last toke, after all. Was I just being paranoid? Probably, I decided. When we finished the second bowl Phelix rolled a couple of joints. I was feeling good and stoned and I had nothing to do. Plus, a ride to the airport would save me some cash for a meal on the way home. Phelix pulled a flipflop off his foot and threw it at the men. The two men groaned. Get the fuck up! Both of them were huge, hulking humans, that barely fit in the back seat of that Hundai. I almost laughed at them. We dropped them off unceremoniously. Phelix pulled right up to the front door of some lavish looking hotel, unlocked the doors and told the Arabs in the back to get out. They obliged. We had another joint after all and he was determined to smoke it with me. He laughed at that. Phelix lit then second joint, took a long draw from it and handed it to me. Kuta beach. Just trying to travel, though, really. Right in the middle of the dashboard, above the sound system controls, was a small orange Ducati motorcycle model. I had noticed it as soon as I got into the car. Again, he laughed. And, at this point I started to feel uncomfortable. Look behind it. I leaned forward and peered over the model motorcycle and my blood froze in my veins. As soon as I laid eyes on it I felt a cold, moist hand close around my wrist. His eyes now burned fiercely. Furious, malicious joy was etched upon his face, as his wolf-like smile spread. But I know I somehow rolled out of his car, breaking his grip and spilling awkwardly out and onto the pavement, strangers watching with surprise. I rolled again. I lost my flip flops. I stood up and saw Phelix getting out of the car as if in slow motion and took off down the street. I hailed the first empty taxi I saw and leapt inside, sinking in the back seat, low, beneath the windows to escape his view. As he threw open the door on the passenger side, reaching in, grabbing at me, I screamed and jumped out the other side. Indonesian taksi I have never been much of a runner. In fact, I absolutely hate the exercise and always have. But in that instant, without shoes and with so much adrenaline coursing through my body, I ran faster and further than I have ever run in my life, before or since. Down the street, up an alley, back to the beach, through a neighborhood, left, left, right, left again, trying to lose this insane man before he caught up to me. At a certain point, I realized, though, that there was only one way I was going to get out of this situation safely. I needed to get back to my hotel room, back to the hotel where Phelix knew I was staying, grab my bag which had my passport and my wallet in it and get the fuck out of dodge. However, if this bastard had any brains, that was where he was going to be waiting for me. He knew I was headed out of the country that morning and he knew I needed to get back to the room in order to get my stuff. I was absolutely certain that Phelix would be waiting there for me, perhaps with more cops, ready to bust my stoned ass and send me to Indonesian prison — which, from what I understand, is not exactly a cheery place. Every part of me trembled with terror as I scurried back to the Surfer Bliss, still buzzing on adrenaline. I peered in the lobby — no sign of Phelix. I snuck up the stairs and glanced down the hallway, towards my room. No one. With a deep breath, I sprinted down the hall and blasted through and into my room. It was empty except for me and my backpack. The window curtains waved gently in a quiet breeze. I started cramming things into the bag, hastily jamming my clothes and anything else I could see into it. As I was doing so, my phone started ringing. I was getting a facetime call from, of all people, my mother. What in the world could she be calling at this hour for? No need to worry! You sound anxious. That was the weirdest thing. I was so scared for you. Nothing to worry about here. I froze at the sound. I stared at the door, ready to shit my pants if I heard Phelix on the other side. Room service. Less than a minute in fact. When I came barreling out of that door the Indonesian room service woman was still standing there and I almost bowled her straight over. But I would never see Phelix ever again. I got a taxi, made it to the airport and then to my gate where I half expected to get stopped by police. It was a wave of warmth, happiness and sheer liberation. I felt dumb when I finally got back to my bed. I felt lucky and stupid, brilliant and foolish all at once. Would I still, today, be fending for my life in some hell-hole Asian prison? Sometimes I wonder. Am I actually in that prison? Am really here? For now I believe that I am. And I feel indescribably lucky that I somehow managed to slip through a crack in the walls as they closed in around me. Call it what you will, to me that is proof of telepathy, evidence of some psychic connection that mothers feel with their children, no matter where on Earth they might be. When I finally, some 36 hours later arrived home in Colorado, my very first order of business was to smoke a fat bowl of Colorado bud. I loaded my bong, covered the weed with a generous blanket of kief, packed the ice catcher with fresh snow and sunk into a bliss that cannot be accurately described with words. It was the safest I have ever felt in my life. Leave a Reply Cancel reply Your email address will not be published. Save my name, email, and website in this browser for the next time I comment. Notice: JavaScript is required for this content. Like this: Like Loading Related Articles. Get the Latest Notice: JavaScript is required for this content.

8 Things Nobody Tells You About Bali

Lombok buy weed

Together with my friends from Canggu , we took a ferry to Lombok and we stopped in Gili Trawangan. I was supposed to spend there my last two weeks in Indonesia before going to Australia. I ended up staying in Indonesia until my visa expired and then flew to Kuala Lumpur. Lombok is a bit different from Bali and the majority of the population is Muslim. This means that you can be woken up at 6am by the nearby mosque and see many local woman with their hair covered. Alcohol is harder to find and bacon for your burger rarely available. What do you call paradise? A place where the sun is shining , the beach has white sand , the sunset is unforgettable and… illegal things are legal. Run by local mafia , these three small islands quickly became very touristic. Even though in Indonesia you get death penalty for drug consumption , on these islands you can buy everything you want very easily. There is not even police on the islands. The most popular are the local grown mushrooms yeah, those mushrooms , that you can pick yourself in the morning or buy from street vendors. There are other bizarre things about Gili. The main way of transportation on the islands are horse carriages and bicycles. Motorbikes or scooters are banned. Also, hostels are not allowed to be called hostels and dorms can have no more than three beds. Because the hostels became so popular and locals were not getting any tourists in their guesthouses. One good thing, no stray dogs on the island! You can easily deduce that these islands are run by the local mafia. Out of the three islands, the most popular and party island is Gili Trawangan , or Gili T as everyone calls it. Gili Air is has a more chilled atmosphere , while Gili Meno is mostly for relaxation. Less popular than Bali , Lombok is another big island in Indonesia. The main city here is Kuta Lombok , located two hours away drive from the ferry port. It is used by tourists as a hub to visit the surrounding beaches, cliffs and surfing spots. However, Kuta Lombok is much smaller and less developed than Kuta, Bali. Even finding a good hostel or accommodation can be problematic. The best way to explore the island is to rent a scooter and ride as far as you can. You will find empty beaches to chill, amazing cliffs to see the sunset and some villages in the countryside. Mt Rinjani summit — Photo by tyuniar In the middle of the island there is an active volcano that you can hike. Mt Rinjani has an altitude of 3,m and it is the second biggest volcano in Indonesia. It last erupted in The expedition usually takes three days and you need to be prepared with proper equipment. After visiting almost all the countries in SE Asia , I think I have a pretty good idea of the drugs scene. The most popular and common drug is marijuana. It is illegal everywhere in Asia , but you can easily find it in Thailand, Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam. Places like Reggae bars, Happy Pizza shops or Amsterdam bars are known to sell joints or bags of weed. The quality does not compare with Europe or America, but it is good enough to chill your evening. When it comes to other drugs , the situation is a bit different. In general islands are the best place to buy party pills. Koh Phangan in Thailand during full moon party and Koh Rong islands in Cambodia are well-known for drugs consumption. It was relatively easy and cheap to buy Ecstasy even in Sri Lanka. Cambodia and Laos have a very worst reputation when it comes to drugs. Every tuk tuk driver is a dealer and can sell you LSD, ecstasy and other pills that will mess up with your brain. The fact that you can buy them so easily can give you the false impression that is also safe to consume them. One common scam is that minutes after you buy drugs from someone, the police will show up and threaten to send you to jail for the rest of your life or even death penalty in Malaysia. You get your freedom, the police most of the money and the dealer some commission and everybody is happy. Worse than loosing money is when you loose your life. There are many stories of young backpackers that never woke up after of consuming drugs. The main problem is that you never know what you buy. The quality is very bad and when mixed with alcohol , it can be deadly. Not really a drug, but something that you have to be careful when travelling is methanol poisoning. Some bars that sell cheap cocktails or shots are using counterfeit alcohol made from methanol. Compared to ethyl alcohol, that is found in wine, whisky, vodka, etc, methanol is highly poisonous. A good advice is to avoid the free shots at the pub crawls since those are most likely to use the cheapest alcohol available. As I said earlier, my itinerary changed in the last-minute because of visa problems. I could not transit or visit Australia, so my only option was to fly north to Kuala Lumpur and from there go to New Zealand. Disclaimer: All the stories and references to drugs in this post are purely fictional and definitely never happened…. Pingback: Malaysia - Between modern and old - Pack to Backpack. Post navigation Next Article. Previous Article. Gili Islands What do you call paradise? Gili T. Club in Gili T. Main street in Gili T. Party hostel in Gili T. Vegetation in Sapa, Vietnam. Like this: Like Loading Tweet Share Pin it Comment. Tagged asia backpacking drugs indonesia journal. How to book a round the world ticket December 26, Travel Journal. The real China — Week 2 November 8, Myanmar and the temples from Bagan January 4,

Lombok buy weed