By Barbara Rice (of Shasta County)
A page from her travels, on request from A News Cafe
We had breakfast this morning in a pretty cafe called La Grotte on Haarlemmerstraat. I had a cheese and mushroom omelet on toast with fresh veggies and orange juice. The French doors were thrown open to catch the sunshine. A businessman was reading the paper over a cup of coffee. A family – mother, father, teenaged daughter and son – came in and took the table behind us, ordering hamburgers and “tosties” (think grilled cheese with veggies, cooked on a George Foreman grill). And next to us were four university students who, having finished their enormous breakfasts, began smoking marijuana. No one batted an eye.
I came to Amsterdam about 20 years ago and was dismayed by the trash rolling in the streets and the heavy drug atmosphere. I could hardly sit on a bench without a vulture swooping by, muttering, “Hash, cocaine, acid,” to me. But when I returned last year, the city had been cleaned up. Trash is picked up regularly. The streets are swept daily. The small threatening clusters of men standing aimlessly have gone elsewhere. It’s a new day in Amsterdam.
Amsterdam has cracked down on hard drugs while tolerating (not legalizing, as is often believed) soft drugs like hashish and marijuana. The coffeehouses all have prominent signs: no hard drugs, no one under 18, no hats, no gang clothing. The rules are strictly enforced: police make unannounced spot checks to ensure a coffeehouse has no more than the amount of stock they are allowed to keep; each patron is interviewed to ensure they do not have more on their person than is allowed. If the coffeehouse is found to be breaking the law, it is shut down.
Coffeehouses have names like the Greenhouse, Cafe 137, La Tertulia (run by a mother and daughter since 1983), Grey Area (run by Americans), De Rokerij (a small chain of four locations). A coffeehouse may sell coffee, tea, soft drinks, and occasionally snacks, but it is not their stock in trade. The menu is on the bar. You walk up, peruse it, and order White Widow, Blueberry, Skunk or any of perhaps a dozen other varieties, perhaps also buying or renting smoking accessories, then have a seat and light up. If you aren’t a smoker, you can buy a “space cake” with hashish or marijuana added.
Each place is a bit different: Cafe 137 is sleek and modern, like a room full of IKEA furniture. De Rokerji prides itself on a different hand-painted mural in each branch, with themes such as Hindu or African. La Tertulia looks like a ladies-who-lunch tearoom, with light blue walls and tropical plants around running fountains. The ages of patrons range from 18 on up. You’re as likely to see grandmothers buying marijuana as you are a student. Most customers are your average middle-class citizen.
The Netherlands views the use of drugs as a social issue, not a criminal one, and decided to stop fighting a losing battle, figuring if you can’t wipe out the use of soft drugs, you can regulate it and make money on it – money that’s now used to enforce laws against hard drugs, keep the streets clean and safe, and provide medical care and higher education to Netherlands citizens.
It’s food for thought.
Barbara Rice is a native Igonian. Upon discovering the Beatles at age 9, she picked up an atlas and figured out how far England was and how long it would take to get there (5371 miles, 12 hours). Though gainfully employed, she regards work as a necessary evil to finance vacations. In her spare time she looks up cheap airfares and daydreams about her next trip. She never did meet Sir Paul but she knows where his office is.
