Everyone Has A Story. This Is Not Your Story. To get the free app, enter mobile phone number. See all free Kindle reading apps. Don't have a Kindle? HarperCollins; 1 edition 2 December Language: Customers who bought this item also bought. If Truth Be Told: Share your thoughts with other customers. Write a product review.
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There was a problem filtering reviews right now. Please try again later. I am a "one sitting reader" Even though i enjoyed the book but as i said earlier there comes few points in between when you might want to put the book down. The book is good but i was expecting few twists and turns but those i missed. This book is much better to read than those of romantic and heart throbbing novels for this book lets you think seriously about some of the important aspects that we miss in our lives including the three main -- 'pesa' , 'nasha' and 'pyar'. Karan bajaj has done a good job in his writings and thanks to him that we get a nice work of literarure to read instead of those regular melodrama ones.
I suggest everyone to go through this atleast once.
Books by Jack Wells
Well, the novel stated on a high note, leaving a good impression that the pace might carry on, but it turns out that the story comes to a standstill in his college. An unimpressive tryout to make a comedy scene is really unpersuasive. But the ending gives a high thrilling anxiety where the story might end, and Karan Bajaj fully lives up to that. Overall i would recommend it as an one time read. Karan Bajaj has set a v high standard for himself with Johny The delivery was really fast and good! I am still in the middle of reading this oh so gripping novel!
But don't expect something great.. See all 35 reviews. Would you like to see more reviews about this item? Most recent customer reviews. Published 1 year ago. Published on 18 November She was quite ready for warmth with a stiff brandy back. To this day I have no idea where the following tidbit of knowledge came from, perhaps Divine Intervention - most probably my Digger acquaintance, Emmett Grogan.
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I didn't know a soul in Amsterdam but told Wendy not to worry, that I knew right where we were going - I just needed to "ask for directions. As I approached, I could see him set his internal dials to "tourist hustle," but before he could initiate anything I said, "Excuse me, do you know where the Dutch boat with the American flag is?
We trudged over the snow-covered ice toward our vague destination with the nearly frozen Wendy asking me a raft of perfectly relevant questions about our intended host, whom I, unbeknownst to Wendy, knew absolutely nothing about. The wide canal was dotted by sheets of ice and a fresh snow began to fall as I banged on Kees Hoekert's cabin door. A moment later a sleepy voice called out from below something that sounded like, "Hotferdommawhovasitnow? Who is Harmon Gutree and Vendy? Not knowing what I was talking about I said, "We've come from London and I was told you could find us a place to stay for the night.
Amsterdam: High on Lowland Weed
I answered truthfully, putting Wendy on red alert, by saying, "I have absolutely no idea who told me, if this isn't the case, my apologies for disturbing you. Wendy looked at me as if confirming her suspicions. The hatch door opened and out came a dense cloud of hash smoke and the face of a very stoned-looking young man. Kees had a few words with the man in Dutch before assuring "Vendy" and me that we could "stay the night with the other crazy people! Our bleary-eyed Dutch host invited us to play, and I said that we didn't speak Swedish. Two hours of congenial warmth and many hash-heavy joints later Wendy and I passed "GO" for the last time before falling into Teutonic bankruptcy and a travel-weary coma.
The next day Kees woke us up at noon, announcing that lunch was ready. Wendy was beginning to believe that I really did know this older fuzzy-haired Dutchman after all, when we both stopped short at the gang plank of his now day-lit boat. Kees's canal boat was a floating marijuana garden and tea house called "The Lowland Weed Company! Let's just go with the flow, eh? No more incomprehensible Swedish Monopoly! He handed us steaming mugs of fresh coffee and motioned us to the sofa in front of his large desk overlooking the frozen canal.
He then proceeded to roll large joints of what he called "binnenlander veed," meaning the local product. Ven ve tried to bring the spice back to the Netherlands from the Dutch West Indes, vee found that it would not stay dry during the long voyage home. Vee Dutchmen knew about the henep plant and the way it would absorb moisture, so, on subsequent journeys wee wrapped our spice kegs vith henep roots an stalks, vitch kept the spices dry.
Dry is 'droog' in Dutch, this is the root for the English vord 'drug'. Vee have used henep plants in this way for centuries, and to serve as a vind break in our lowland fields; as rope fiber; and the seeds feed our birds. The laws surrounding the use of the henep plant," he concluded, "fall vithin the domain of the Dutch Opium Contract. He went on to say that the document did not specifically prohibit the sale the henep plant or the consumption of its tea.
Kees understood this to mean that he could legally set up shop as an Henep Merchant who gave away marijuana tea aboard his canal boat. Where he obtained these addresses was not explained, yet he did say they produced the contacts he needed to begin ordering kilos and kilos of pot seeds from all over the world -- so far, no problems. Kees said he culled through the incoming gunny sacks, "looking for the perfect seeds" for immediate germination, potting, labeling, growing and final testing, before archiving the seeds and dried bud-filled branches with detailed journal notations regarding the growth patterns, etc.
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Kees accumulated a canal house of information and thousands upon thousands of pot seeds. He then lovingly and with increasing botanical skill sprouted the seeds in the confines of his boat. When the time was somehow determined to be "perfect," Kees moved his cannabinoid nursery up on deck. Here, along with his start-up plants, he placed a large hand-painted sign with a huge marijuana leaf on it that read: His enthusiastic walk-in trade picked up briskly as word-of-mouth spread through Amsterdam's numerous proto-Underground anti-Movements of the early 's.
After a week or two of this influx of seed enthusiasts, Kees had to deal with two very imposing facts. First of all, he had neglected to ask anyone in charge of such matters if what he was quietly doing in the privacy of his boat would be equally acceptable aboveboard. Secondly, and most importantly, his Lowland was docked quite near the district headquarters of the Amsterdam Police Department the Politi , whose captain dispatched his emissaries to discuss the situation with Kees. Kees informed the officers that he was completely within his rights by governmental decree as stipulated in section blah, blah, blah of the Opium Trade Act, which he theatrically began to wave under their noses.
The Politi beat a retreat to report back to their captain, and Kees attended to the business at hand. The next day, the captain and his troops stormed the Lowland Weed Company, dragging a manacled and protesting Kees Hoekert down the street for interrogation. From the intrusive captain's skewed perspective, the floating eyesore was obviously a front for a major criminal organization in its infancy and was to be shut down immediately. This vision of stupidity was sadistically played out in his treatment of our protagonist Kees Hoekert, who was brutally thrown into an interrogation cell and tortured by having his thumbs bent toward his wrists.
After suffering through a few hours of questioning and painful indignation, Kees was finally released and the captain undoubtedly thought he had heard the last of Mr. Back on board the boat, Kees was attended to by his many friends who were appalled by his injuries and the source of their infliction. When Kees was well enough but not yet fully healed, he and a certain "shamanic friend" went before the Chief Justice of the Amsterdam Court, where they told the horrific tale, offering the twisted thumbs of Hoekert as proof of the "official mayhem.
The police captain was brought up on charges and Kees was allowed to proceed without further intervention from the Politi with his Lowland Weed Company.
This quizzical turn of the great wheel along with subsequent post-Provo activities by Kees and his cohorts would lead the way for the current leniency regarding the socially accepted use of "soft drugs" in the Netherlands. Thus concluded the first of numerous trials by fire for the first legally sanctioned hemp dealer in the western world, Sir George Washington, and as of January, Kees Hoekert was aboard the Lowland Weed Company, culling "perfect" seeds for germination, floating on the same canal near the former politi-headquarters.
His marijuana tea continues to be free and the potent binnenlander plants still sell for 1 guilder - now equal to about sixty cents. Following lunch, Kees walked us over to the quasi-legal Brouwer Hotel on the Singelgracht near the 'Centrum' of town, and after "Vendy" and I checked into the family-run inn, the three us retired to our lovely antiquated room, whereupon Kees presented us with a large bag of binnenlander "veed" and warned us against the street trade, which at that time was rife with what Kees called "nephasheesh" - a noxious blend of brown shoe polish and camel dung clumped together with low-grade black-Pakistani hash.