The Clown

The Clown was the first coffeeshop and also the first strain I made acquaintance with when I arrived in Groningen. Situated in a common walking street, it probably is the first coffeeshop noticed by a visitor in town. However, even with "The Best In Town" -slogan, it hardly pleased me in a desireable way. Nowadays I skip it without hesitation. The athmosphere just doesn't quite suit me. And the clowns laughing at you in the window. Gosh. It's like a Stanley Kubrick movie. But enough for the introduction, let us go into detail of this moderately wretched place.

They're all laughing at you...

I was going home from a pub with the planned action of taking a first visit in a coffeeshop since moving to town. The Clown was one of the only ones I knew, even though I had heard of some other, better places to go to. I walked in to a thick, foggy interior full of people rolling their joints or having exhaustive late night chats. A rather unsettling beat was playing in the background. I remember reading of some rude Germans inhabitating The Clown often but I couldn't spot any at the moment. The athmosphere was thick with some sort of hazy frustration with men old and young sitting quietly and watching.

My apologies to people with an irrational fear of clowns.

I bought a joint of Clown, a weed strain suspectedly grown exclusively for that very coffeeshop. I left the eerie place and went on home. I restrained myself from smoking it on the same day as I was feeling tired and drunk, but took the virginity of the joint on the next day. The high was moderate, not too strong but quite relaxing anyway. I enjoyed some Dutch television and made some drawings as I didn't have my laptop with me. It was all in all not too strong, not too mild an experience. Nothing much to say about it. Except when I went to bed.

I lay down and after a while I started feeling ticklish in my face. I don't remember if I fell asleep or just lay there with my eyes closed, but I started feeling as if something was crawling inside my face. It was a sensation nobody wants to feel and it had never happened before. Of course, I knew it wasn't possible but the sensation persisted. After a while I fortunately started to drift off to sleep and finally got rid of the unpleasant feeling. Never have I touched The Clown after that incident, yet that's only my opinion. There were plenty of people enjoying The Clown, and hell, maybe they did enjoy fucking insects crawling under their skin and the feeling of a thousand clowns laughing at you. I don't know. But I'm giving it a rating of two stars out of five.

The Clown (weed):

Stoned, Non-body

Overall: 2/5

Price: 2/5

Strength: 2/5

Mind: 1/5

Body: 2/5

The Clown (coffeeshop):

Overall: 2/5

Interior: 3/5

Athmosphere: 1/5

Variety: 2/5

Service: 2/5