I was in a cannabis club sharing marijuana jokes with a table of friends in Madrid. One girl referred to her boyfriend as a “kangaroo.” I asked why and she told me.
Spaniards call potheads “kangaroos” because when the police come, they stow their joints – not in pockets which can be legally searched – but inside their underpants where the police can’t go without a warrant – hence the nickname “kangaroo.” (In Spain you actually need a warrant to search someone’s underwear.) This quick stash is done so routinely by so many people here that, over time and with evolution, Spaniards may develop a kangaroo-like pouch just below their bellies.
This is Day 43 of my 100 Days in Europe series. As I research my guidebooks and make new TV shows, I’m reporting on my experiences and lessons learned in Portugal, Spain, Italy, France, Bulgaria, Romania, and beyond. Find more at blog.ricksteves.com.
I’ve left France for Bulgaria, where I’m meeting with my TV crew. But first, a few thoughts on my earlier experience in Spain.
Cannabis Club Choko is a discreet, simple, and tasteful lounge in Barcelona’s Gothic Quarter. Its members relax any night of the week to enjoy the privileges of being a part of their club — to smoke the weed they collectively own without getting arrested.
Of course pot is not legal in Spain. But, like many countries, Spain has an artful way of letting people smoke with discretion and not get arrested. While Amsterdam’s coffeeshops are more gritty, I found Spain’s cannabis clubs more elegant. (I am now a temporary member of a club in Madrid and in Barcelona.)
Cannabis clubs are private, not public. You technically don’t buy weed, you co-own the production. I was able to get a temporary membership with a local friend, but to join there’s lots of forms and, technically, you need a local address. Spaniards told me, “We are used to dealing with old laws that should be changed but don’t. We build little fantasies to dance artfully around them.”
There’s a huge variety of clubs – this one supports urban art and showcases local artists. (It’s famous for its mesmerizingly beautiful “Choko Club Head” by Shaka.) Reputable clubs don’t advertise. They’re funded by annual membership fees. As they can’t make any profit; this one puts on impressive cultural events to spend its extra money.
Because the big risk is neighbors complaining about the noise or smell, clubs are often in edgy neighborhoods and are extremely discreet and quiet. The ones I visited close at midnight and, of course, don’t allow minors. In Spain, I was told you can smoke with impunity. But if you sell even one joint, you might as well sell a kilo — it’s very serious with the police.
The Basque and Catalunya regions are ahead of the rest of Spain when it comes to marijuana laws. Generally Spaniards know there’s cheap stuff on the streets, but they prefer to pay more for predictable quality in clubs. Vaporizers may be the rage in the USA and in France, but in Spain they just don’t sell. Whether tobacco or marijuana, Spaniards simply love to actually smoke.
You might not find these terms in your Spanish phrasebook.
In Spain, since the economic crisis, there’s a big roll-your-own culture with tobacco. People just can’t afford regular cigarettes. I was told pre-rolled cigarettes are not only more expensive, but they end up causing you to smoke more. A normal cigarette has more tobacco than a smoker really wants and, since people don’t want to waste tobacco, they end up smoking more than they would if they rolled their own. Now, more cigarette smokers in Spain are smoking little DIY cigarettes that look like joints. And that makes it much easier to get away with smoking a joint in public here in Spain, as people assume you’re smoking tobacco.
(Stay tuned. Tomorrow I finally explain why Spanish potheads are nicknamed “Kangaroos.”)
This is Day 42 of my 100 Days in Europe series. As I research my guidebooks and make new TV shows, I’m reporting on my experiences and lessons learned in Portugal, Spain, Italy, France, Bulgaria, Romania, and beyond. Find more at blog.ricksteves.com.
(Sorry, I’m a little tipsy again…but Europe is just too much fun!)
I’m all about providing travel tips, and this video clip shows you one of my all-time favorites: hire a taxi after dinner for your own private, tailor-made tour of a floodlit Paris. In our Paris guidebook we include a hit list of the great floodlit monuments and a rip-out map for your cabbie to follow. Now, in the age of Uber, the whole party just got a lot more fun and about 50 percent less expensive.
Jump in the Uber car with us for a peek at the good time we had. It was a great little gig for our driver — who really got into the fun (and kept the map as a souvenir). We hopped out at each stop to shoot goofy selfies and celebrate the magnificent floodlit monuments — so emblematic of the “City of Light.” A highlight was singing the Champs-Elysées song with our driver (even without most of the lyrics) as we approached the Paris Ferris Wheel, all lit up fancy. What a fine way to cap the day — and especially fun after a tasty dinner and another bottle of Haut-Médoc. (Thanks to Trish Feaster for editing this together.) The price for our Uber ride: €36 for a 75-minute party all over Paris — for 3 people that’s about $15 each. Uber doesn’t work in much of Europe, but where it does, it’s great. Stay thirsty my friends.
This is Day 41 of my 100 Days in Europe series. As I research my guidebooks and make new TV shows, I’m reporting on my experiences and lessons learned in Portugal, Spain, Italy, France, Bulgaria, Romania, and beyond. Find more at blog.ricksteves.com.
When researching our guidebooks for the best-value restaurants, the last thing I want to do is follow the crowd to a top listing on a crowd-sourcing website. My co-author Steve Smith and I get recommendations from locals we trust — locals who know what works for tourists in their towns, and from locals who simply share with us their favorite spots. Then we always visit the restaurants in person to be sure they fit our style of traveler. Here’s an example of a place my guide mentioned to me that turned out to be our favorite discovery here in Dinan, in Brittany. It’s a very popular place with locals and yet our readers would still feel welcome. Everyone was friendly. The woman at the bar was just back from New York City. A good list of wines was about $3 a glass and our meal (with wine) cost us about $12 each.
Here’s the write-up: Le Nez Rouge (The Red Nose) is Dinan’s down-and-dirty Celtic watering hole serving cheap wine, local draft beer, and tasty tartine dishes (big slices of rustic toast with a variety of toppings — like a local pizza) in a raucous but welcoming setting. It has great outdoor seating on a small square, but inside is where the action is. Work your way up to the counter, order a glass of €2.50 wine while you wait for a seat to open up, and meet a stranger (€7 tartines with salad, 4 Rue de l’Ecole, tel. 02 96 85 94 44).
This is Day 40 of my 100 Days in Europe series. As I research my guidebooks and make new TV shows, I’m reporting on my experiences and lessons learned in Portugal, Spain, Italy, France, Bulgaria, Romania, and beyond. Find more at blog.ricksteves.com.
From time to time we share a random video to fuel your travel dreams. Today, we’re sharing this clip from my TV episode about Western Turkey. It’s dinnertime, and our plan is to get off the main road to Konya and find the local equivalent of a small-town pizza joint.
