Smoking marijuana legally in Amsterdam coffeeshop took a bit of research first

This joint was left in an ashtray at an Amsterdam coffeehouse.
Janet Podolak

People ask if I visited a coffee shop during my 48 hours in Amsterdam.

The city’s coffeeshops (one word in Amsterdam), where marijuana is purchased and smoked, are as legendary as its tulips, its Anne Frank House and its museums for Van Gogh and Rembrandt.

“We invented ‘don’t ask, don’t tell,’” said Peter, our guide on a food walking tour of the Jordaan neighborhood in Amsterdam. (Click Here for that story). It’s the same Dutch live-and-let-live attitude that regulates prostitution in the city’s Red Light District instead of prohibiting it. He claimed the coffeeshop culture of tolerating and regulating marijuana originated in the 1970s with a pair of men from Berkeley, California.

I couldn’t confirm that, but like many who visit Amsterdam, I wanted to try it out for myself.

A February 2015 article in Newsweek magazine claimed one-third of all visitors to Amsterdam visit a coffeeshop and said that the pot culture generates $170 million per year for the Netherlands.

Because one by one our U.S. states are approving the use of medical marijuana and a few have also OK’d it for recreational use, I figured the time had come. So I began researching coffeeshops to find one where I would be comfortable.

The Bulldog, which opened in 1976, was the first of what has become many Amsterdam coffeeshops where marijuana and hashish are legal and available.
Janet Podolak

The Bulldog, where it all supposedly began, wasn’t the one. It was near my hotel, but it was just too scruffy for me and I didn’t feel comfortable there. The first Bulldog began in 1975, and now there are five in Amsterdam. Early on it was in the basement of a sex shop, and the bartender upstairs would drop an orange down the stairs to signal when a police raid was about to take place. Its proprietors, among the leaders of a campaign to make pot legal in Amsterdam, spent more than a few nights behind bars.

I found La Tertulia along the Prinsengracht Canal right after our food walking tour. It was raining again, so we couldn’t settle in at the canal-side patio, but its front window looked appealing. We entered, passing a pretty crystal garden of amethysts before stepping down a few stairs to view a menu and order.

A sign above our heads admonished “No opium smoking.” Only “soft” drugs are allowed in coffeeshops.

It was tempting to order one of the menu’s edibles — foods laced with marijuana or hashish — but I feared becoming too high or high for too long — or, even worse, getting sick — so I thought I would find something more familiar. There also were other foods available.

My friend chose not to partake so she could get us back to the hotel in case I became too disabled to find my way.

I at first thought perhaps a joint mixed with tobacco would be good, but I haven’t smoked tobacco for 20 years and that ultimately didn’t sound appealing. There were a myriad of variety names, such as purple haze and hashish, but none meant anything to me. I could buy the weed loose along with rolling papers, but I figured that was pointless. I soon realized I should have done my homework.

I asked the clerk for a recommendation, telling her I was not experienced in this realm. She recommended a plain joint, priced at 4 euros, or about $5. Sounded right to me.

Of course, neither of us had a lighter or matches, so I had to return to the counter for that. I lit up with the matches she handed me, then handed them back.

“Better keep them,” she said.

She knew that the joint probably would go out after one puff, and it did. So I lit it again and inhaled deeply — too deeply because I coughed and coughed.

I placed the joint in the ashtray on our table and took its picture. It quickly extinguished itself. I gazed at the amethysts as I waited for something to happen.

“Anything?” my friend asked.

“A little,” I said, relighting the joint and inhaling with less vigor.

Soon I realized I was genuinely high. I had neither hallucinations nor the munchies, but we’d just finished a food walking tour. It was not at all like a wine buzz, but I was pleasantly disoriented and feeling mighty mellow.

I didn’t yet want to negotiate the cobble-stoned streets with their trams and bridges and sidewalks with bikes zooming past, so we sat for a while, waiting for a break in the rain. The background music sounded sweeter and the amethysts sparkled so beautifully.

Soon we were on our way back to our hotel, where we needed to pack for our flight the next morning. A block away I realized I’d left the unfinished joint in the ashtray.

I knew that possession of 5 grams of marijuana is not prosecuted and thought momentarily about finishing it back at the hotel or taking it home.

But I left it there anyway.

Later I learned that is about a teaspoon of weed.

A prominently displayed sign at the hotel indicated that smoking of any kind is not permitted on the premises. Ironically, tobacco use is not allowed indoors anywhere in Amsterdam, including coffeeshops.

Seeds and smoking paraphernalia are available at coffeeshops and elsewhere in Amsterdam, but it’s not permitted to bring them home.

Amsterdam shops separate from coffeeshops sell magic mushrooms and related drugs complete with descriptions on how they affect the user.
Janet Podolak

So-called “smart” shops also sell magic mushrooms and other soft drugs. Although psychedelic mushrooms are illegal in Amsterdam, they go by the name “truffles” and include descriptions of the high and its length.

There are about 250 coffeeshops in Amsterdam, and they permit consumption (usually smoking) of marijuana and hashish and edibles. They aren’t permitted to advertise, so it’s best to make your coffeeshop plans before you arrive. Some even have attached hotels for customers who are rendered immobile. Plenty of information is available online, including details about a three-hour Coffeeshop Tour at tiqets.com. For one list of coffeeshops with descriptions, visit AmsterdamTourist.info.