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Pokhara buy cocaine

I folded up the piece of paper with his budget calculations on it, and stuffed it in the back pocket of my slacks. We shook hands and he must have committed my face to memory, because for the next week, every time I passed his office, he would call out to me and ask about my plans. But today, we simply said goodbye. I left his office, and headed for the main streets of Thamel. The first thing one notices about Thamel is the dust. Loose, dry dirt which is being constantly kicked up into the air by the beating of a thousand feet and the spinning of scooter wheels. Half the people in Kathmandu, locals and travelers alike, wear facial protection on a daily basis; the other half probably should too. The dust is unavoidable: it irritates the eyes, lodges in your throat and causes chronic coughing, and quickly coats anything left outside. The settling of the dust is impossible to miss, as every shop in Thamel has piles of dusty goods stacked outside, an incentive to shoppers overwhelmed with choice. Most of the trekking shops stack duffel bags outside their doors. These big piles of multicolored haul bags all appear brown and faded as dust settles on them throughout the day. The owners pull them inside at night, shake off the dust, and the cycle begins anew the next morning. Smog and pollution from motorbikes and taxis adds to the poor air quality. Scooters and actual bicycle-powered rickshaws regularly mingle with the pedestrian traffic in Thamel. Scooters and taxis, free of any environmental controls, have been known to do that. I picked a direction, and started walking. I had no particular goal in mind. Truthfully, my meeting with the trekking agent had overwhelmed me. I just got here, I thought. As I walked, I marveled at the high buildings and the seemingly endless array of trekking and souvenir shops. The owners stood on their stoops, and called out to me as I passed. Despite my best efforts, I was easy pickings for the touts. Many, many men walked up to me on the streets, matching my pace and offering to show me around the city. First time here? What brings you to our country? I have a trekking agency, very good, very cheap! Come, come with me, brother. Very good, I promise! Worse than the trekking touts were the drug dealers. When Holly and I were traveling together, we had never once been approached about such things. Although touts would occasionally harass us about her blond hair, or try and convince me to buy her a rose or a ring or some other trinket, we had certainly never been offered drugs. I kept walking, then did a double-take, as I processed what he had said. He caught my interest, and hurried over to me. Too nervous to buy drugs off the street on my first day in a foreign country, I immediately resumed walking. He kept walking with me. Very good, see? I shook my head and kept walking. Undeterred, he continued with me. By now we had walked half a block at least. The tout was much shorter than me, and I was trying to discourage him by walking as fast as my long legs would carry me. The Nepali are not so easily discouraged though, and he was cheerily keeping pace. Again, I told the man no. Again, he offered me drugs. You want to go to mountains? This time, I just kept walking. The drug aspect reminds me of Amsterdam. And the tourist treatment of many places. It takes zero time to clock a wealthy foreigner. It always amazes me how slick they are. One second a drug dealer the next a trekking guide lol. You describe it well, I first went there many decades ago and often since then. Wonder if I should do a comparison post … I would never suggest any foreigner go to Thamel, far too many touts! A cafe in Freak Street would get you a more genuine deal on trekking or anything else you need to buy. Same, same but different! India is most certainly different than the rest of the world…more complex, more culturally diverse and most certainly more populated. In terms of land area alone, India is bigger than four to five European nations put together. And the population must be the same as the population of US and Australia put together, if not more. India is still an agrarian economy that largely depends on farming and revenue it earns from its export and farming is still not as technically sound and modern as rest of the world. At least not any more except for a few sporadic instances. But if you can get past the cows, and other sensory assault; India has a lot to offer. Give it some time and you just might end up liking us…we welcome you and the rest of the world with a genial smile and a warm embrace…Namaste! And after a couple of days, he got used to it. Are you there currently, or is this based on a former trip? I was there in March. The sensory overload was immediate, and total. Thamel is dusty, polluted, and loud. Like Loading Any advise? You should definitely write a comparison post! Leave a comment Cancel reply. Comment Reblog Subscribe Subscribed. Sign me up. Already have a WordPress. Log in now.

Drug abuse in Nepal: a rapid assessment study

Pokhara buy cocaine

Drugs are another means toward this end. Some are illegal; some are stigmatized; some are dangerous—though, perversely, these sets only partially intersect. There are other points on this continuum: MDMA, or Ecstasy, has remarkable therapeutic potential, but it is also susceptible to abuse, and some evidence suggests that it can be neurotoxic. One of the great responsibilities we have as a society is to educate ourselves, along with the next generation, about which substances are worth ingesting and for what purpose and which are not. The problem, however, is that we refer to all biologically active compounds by a single term, drugs , making it nearly impossible to have an intelligent discussion about the psychological, medical, ethical, and legal issues surrounding their use. The poverty of our language has been only slightly eased by the introduction of the term psychedelics to differentiate certain visionary compounds, which can produce extraordinary insights, from narcotics and other classic agents of stupefaction and abuse. However, we should not be too quick to feel nostalgia for the counterculture of the s. For every insight of lasting value produced by drugs, there was an army of zombies with flowers in their hair shuffling toward failure and regret. Drug abuse and addiction are real problems, of course, the remedy for which is education and medical treatment, not incarceration. In fact, the most abused drugs in the United States now appear to be oxycodone and other prescription painkillers. Should these medicines be made illegal? Of course not. But people need to be informed about their hazards, and addicts need treatment. And all drugs—including alcohol, cigarettes, and aspirin—must be kept out of the hands of children. I discuss issues of drug policy in some detail in my first book, The End of Faith, and my thinking on the subject has not changed. The fact that we pointlessly ruin the lives of nonviolent drug users by incarcerating them, at enormous expense, constitutes one of the great moral failures of our time. I have two daughters who will one day take drugs. Of course, I will do everything in my power to see that they choose their drugs wisely, but a life lived entirely without drugs is neither foreseeable nor, I think, desirable. I hope they someday enjoy a morning cup of tea or coffee as much as I do. If they drink alcohol as adults, as they probably will, I will encourage them to do it safely. If they choose to smoke marijuana, I will urge moderation. Needless to say, if I knew that either of my daughters would eventually develop a fondness for methamphetamine or crack cocaine, I might never sleep again. This is not to say that everyone should take psychedelics. As I will make clear below, these drugs pose certain dangers. Undoubtedly, some people cannot afford to give the anchor of sanity even the slightest tug. It has been many years since I took psychedelics myself, and my abstinence is born of a healthy respect for the risks involved. However, there was a period in my early twenties when I found psilocybin and LSD to be indispensable tools, and some of the most important hours of my life were spent under their influence. Without them, I might never have discovered that there was an inner landscape of mind worth exploring. There is no getting around the role of luck here. If you are lucky, and you take the right drug, you will know what it is to be enlightened or to be close enough to persuade you that enlightenment is possible. If you are unlucky, you will know what it is to be clinically insane. Human beings have ingested plant-based psychedelics for millennia, but scientific research on these compounds did not begin until the s. By , a thousand studies had been published, primarily on psilocybin and LSD, many of which attested to the usefulness of psychedelics in the treatment of clinical depression, obsessive-compulsive disorder, alcohol addiction, and the pain and anxiety associated with terminal cancer. Within a few years, however, this entire field of research was abolished in an effort to stem the spread of these drugs among the public. After a hiatus that lasted an entire generation, scientific research on the pharmacology and therapeutic value of psychedelics has quietly resumed. Most seem to exert their influence through the serotonin system in the brain, primarily by binding to 5-HT 2A receptors though several have affinity for other receptors as well , leading to increased activity in the prefrontal cortex PFC. Although the PFC in turn modulates subcortical dopamine production—and certain of these compounds, such as LSD, bind directly to dopamine receptors—the effect of psychedelics seems to take place largely outside dopamine pathways, which could explain why these drugs are not habit-forming. The efficacy of psychedelics might seem to establish the material basis of mental and spiritual life beyond any doubt, for the introduction of these substances into the brain is the obvious cause of any numinous apocalypse that follows. It is possible, however, if not actually plausible, to seize this evidence from the other end and argue, as Aldous Huxley did in his classic The Doors of Perception, that the primary function of the brain may be eliminative: Its purpose may be to prevent a transpersonal dimension of mind from flooding consciousness, thereby allowing apes like ourselves to make their way in the world without being dazzled at every step by visionary phenomena that are irrelevant to their physical survival. Huxley was operating under the assumption that psychedelics decrease brain activity. Some recent data have lent support to this view; for instance, a neuroimaging study of psilocybin suggests that the drug primarily reduces activity in the anterior cingulate cortex, a region involved in a wide variety of tasks related to self-monitoring. However, other studies have found that psychedelics increase activity throughout the brain. Whatever the case, the action of these drugs does not rule out dualism, or the existence of realms of mind beyond the brain—but then, nothing does. That is one of the problems with views of this kind: They appear to be unfalsifiable. We have reason to be skeptical of the brain-as-barrier thesis. If the brain were merely a filter on the mind, damaging it should increase cognition. In fact, strategically damaging the brain should be the most reliable method of spiritual practice available to anyone. In almost every case, loss of brain should yield more mind. But that is not how the mind works. Some people try to get around this by suggesting that the brain may function more like a radio, a receiver of conscious states rather than a barrier to them. At first glance, this would appear to account for the deleterious effects of neurological injury and disease, for if one smashes a radio with a hammer, it will no longer function properly. There is a problem with this metaphor, however. Those who employ it invariably forget that we are the music, not the radio. She might seem unconscious from the outside—like a broken radio—but, subjectively speaking, the music would play on. Specific reductions in brain activity might benefit people in certain ways, unmasking memories or abilities that are being actively inhibited by the regions in question. But there is no reason to think that the pervasive destruction of the central nervous system would leave the mind unaffected much less improved. Medications that reduce anxiety generally work by increasing the effect of the inhibitory neurotransmitter GABA, thereby diminishing neuronal activity in various parts of the brain. But the fact that dampening arousal in this way can make people feel better does not suggest that they would feel better still if they were drugged into a coma. Similarly, it would be unsurprising if psilocybin reduced brain activity in areas responsible for self-monitoring, because that might, in part, account for the experiences that are often associated with the drug. This does not give us any reason to believe that turning off the brain entirely would yield an increased awareness of spiritual realities. However, the brain does exclude an extraordinary amount of information from consciousness. And, like many who have taken psychedelics, I can attest that these compounds throw open the gates. Positing the existence of a Mind at Large is more tempting in some states of consciousness than in others. But these drugs can also produce mental states that are best viewed as forms of psychosis. As a general matter, I believe we should be very slow to draw conclusions about the nature of the cosmos on the basis of inner experiences—no matter how profound they may seem. One thing is certain: The mind is vaster and more fluid than our ordinary, waking consciousness suggests. And it is simply impossible to communicate the profundity or seeming profundity of psychedelic states to those who have never experienced them. Indeed, it is even difficult to remind oneself of the power of these states once they have passed. Many people wonder about the difference between meditation and other contemplative practices and psychedelics. Are these drugs a form of cheating, or are they the only means of authentic awakening? They are neither. All psychoactive drugs modulate the existing neurochemistry of the brain—either by mimicking specific neurotransmitters or by causing the neurotransmitters themselves to be more or less active. Hence, whatever one has seen or felt after ingesting LSD is likely to have been seen or felt by someone, somewhere, without it. However, it cannot be denied that psychedelics are a uniquely potent means of altering consciousness. Teach a person to meditate, pray, chant, or do yoga, and there is no guarantee that anything will happen. Depending upon his aptitude or interest, the only reward for his efforts may be boredom and a sore back. If, however, a person ingests micrograms of LSD, what happens next will depend on a variety of factors, but there is no question that something will happen. And boredom is simply not in the cards. Within the hour, the significance of his existence will bear down upon him like an avalanche. As the late Terence McKenna \[ 4 \] never tired of pointing out, this guarantee of profound effect, for better or worse, is what separates psychedelics from every other method of spiritual inquiry. Ingesting a powerful dose of a psychedelic drug is like strapping oneself to a rocket without a guidance system. But however methodically one prepares for the voyage, one can still be hurled into states of mind so painful and confusing as to be indistinguishable from psychosis. Hence, the terms psychotomimetic and psychotogenic that are occasionally applied to these drugs. I have visited both extremes on the psychedelic continuum. The positive experiences were more sublime than I could ever have imagined or than I can now faithfully recall. These chemicals disclose layers of beauty that art is powerless to capture and for which the beauty of nature itself is a mere simulacrum. It is one thing to be awestruck by the sight of a giant redwood and amazed at the details of its history and underlying biology. It is quite another to spend an apparent eternity in egoless communion with it. Positive psychedelic experiences often reveal how wondrously at ease in the universe a human being can be—and for most of us, normal waking consciousness does not offer so much as a glimmer of those deeper possibilities. People generally come away from such experiences with a sense that conventional states of consciousness obscure and truncate sacred insights and emotions. A beatific vision does not tell you anything about the birth of the cosmos, but it does reveal how utterly transfigured a mind can be by a full collision with the present moment. However, as the peaks are high, the valleys are deep. If nothing else, these excruciating experiences can become a source of compassion. I think it may be impossible to imagine what it is like to suffer from mental illness without having briefly touched its shores. At both ends of the continuum, time dilates in ways that cannot be described—apart from merely observing that these experiences can seem eternal. I have spent hours, both good and bad, in which any understanding that I had ingested a drug was lost, and all memories of my past along with it. Immersion in the present moment to this degree is synonymous with the feeling that one has always been and will always be in precisely this condition. In the beginning, my experiences with psilocybin and LSD were so positive that I did not see how a bad trip could be possible. My mental set was exactly as it needed to be—I was a spiritually serious investigator of my own mind—and my setting was generally one of either natural beauty or secure solitude. Thereafter, whether or not a trip was good in the aggregate, it generally entailed some excruciating detour on the path to sublimity. Have you ever traveled, beyond all mere metaphors, to the Mountain of Shame and stayed for a thousand years? I do not recommend it. On my first trip to Nepal, I took a rowboat out on Phewa Lake in Pokhara, which offers a stunning view of the Annapurna range. It was early morning, and I was alone. As the sun rose over the water, I ingested micrograms of LSD. I was twenty years old and had taken the drug at least ten times previously. What could go wrong? Everything, as it turns out. I have a vague memory of drifting ashore and being surrounded by a group of Nepali soldiers. After watching me for a while, as I ogled them over the gunwale like a lunatic, they seemed on the verge of deciding what to do with me. Some polite words of Esperanto and a few mad oar strokes, and I was offshore and into oblivion. I suppose that could have ended differently. But soon there was no lake or mountains or boat—and if I had fallen into the water, I am pretty sure there would have been no one to swim. For the next several hours my mind became a perfect instrument of self-torture. All that remained was a continuous shattering and terror for which I have no words. An encounter like that takes something out of you. Even if LSD and similar drugs are biologically safe, they have the potential to produce extremely unpleasant and destabilizing experiences. I believe I was positively affected by my good trips, and negatively affected by the bad ones, for weeks and months. Meditation can open the mind to a similar range of conscious states, but far less haphazardly. If LSD is like being strapped to a rocket, learning to meditate is like gently raising a sail. Psychedelics do not guarantee wisdom or a clear recognition of the selfless nature of consciousness. They merely guarantee that the contents of consciousness will change. Such visionary experiences, considered in their totality, appear to me to be ethically neutral. Therefore, it seems that psychedelic ecstasies must be steered toward our personal and collective well-being by some other principle. As I discuss elsewhere in my work, the form of transcendence that appears to link directly to ethical behavior and human well-being is that which occurs in the midst of ordinary waking life. It is by ceasing to cling to the contents of consciousness—to our thoughts, moods, and desires— that we make progress. This project does not in principle require that we experience more content. The power of psychedelics, however, is that they often reveal, in the span of a few hours, depths of awe and understanding that can otherwise elude us for a lifetime. William James said it about as well as anyone: \[ 6 \]. One conclusion was forced upon my mind at that time, and my impression of its truth has ever since remained unshaken. It is that our normal waking consciousness, rational consciousness as we call it, is but one special type of consciousness, whilst all about it, parted from it by the filmiest of screens, there lie potential forms of consciousness entirely different. We may go through life without suspecting their existence; but apply the requisite stimulus, and at a touch they are there in all their completeness, definite types of mentality which probably somewhere have their field of application and adaptation. No account of the universe in its totality can be final which leaves these other forms of consciousness quite disregarded. How to regard them is the question,—for they are so discontinuous with ordinary consciousness. Yet they may determine attitudes though they cannot furnish formulas, and open a region though they fail to give a map. At any rate, they forbid a premature closing of our accounts with reality. I believe that psychedelics may be indispensable for some people—especially those who, like me, initially need convincing that profound changes in consciousness are possible. After that, it seems wise to find ways of practicing that do not present the same risks. Happily, such methods are widely available. Huxley, A. The Doors of Perception and Heaven and Hell. McKenna, T. Pinchbeck, D. Stevens, J. Ratsch, C. Ott, J. Strassman, R. July 4, William James said it about as well as anyone: \[ 6 \] One conclusion was forced upon my mind at that time, and my impression of its truth has ever since remained unshaken. The Varieties of Religious Experience , p. Recommended Reading: Huxley, A.

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