Cambodia’s Happy Herb Pizza Plus
Never addicted to anything but oriental pussy, but confessing to trying things like “Maui Wowie”, “Skunk” and even some Thai & Tar in my younger years, plus owing my life and sanity to medically prescribed THC during my
chemo battle I was relatively aware of what “Happy Herb Pizza” was all about. I never had any type of addiction, nor did I find it to be a stimulant, au contraire it usually relaxed me to the point of paranoia, sleep, giggles or
a fog so bad that I would not dare drive a car.
My first visit to Cambodia was Sihanoukville, known for its beautiful beaches, quite relaxed atmosphere and an occasional beautiful woman was also my first, second and third experiment with the much maligned “wacky weed”. Not
knowing that Sihanoukville was also the home of the second Happy Herb franchise my first night in town found me at a well known Fisherman’s hangout with a very accommodating owner/manager. He not only introduced my to my wonderful “tour
guide” Chanty who willingly told me she would do anything I wanted her to do for my satisfaction including procuring other willing partners for me for 3 somes or 4 somes (yes she asked me to get one for her too, and I did).
As I sat in the Den sucking down the most reasonably priced drinks since leaving Hawaii and landing it Thailand I spied a menu for “Happy Herb Pizza”. Thinking it was for Phnom Penh, I at first ignored it, but during a lull
I read it I saw it was for a local parlor I asked the proprietor to order a large one “Happy” for me and my friends. Free delivery even enticed me even more. My two friends shared it with me, 8 slices, one of them had a slice, the
other who had never indulged in the pleasures of the herb and did not understand “Happy” was hungry and had 2 slices. I also had two with no side affects, when the said they were full it left 3 additional slices for me to consume.
Not wanting to waste food and no other takers I wolfed them down. Fortunately I took a motor taxi home thinking I felt nothing but when I got home the room was spinning. My virgin friend confessed he barely made it home, parked his bike went to
his room at 8pm and didn’t wake up until 8am the following day. For the first time in my life, even after some brownies that were doctored with no affect I finally believed in eaten weed.
Later with my tour guide and knowing that use of unusual tobacco was ignored in Cambo I asked her if she could get some wacky tobacco for me. Sure, was the reply,” I will have the motorcycle taxi get it for you. Do you want the good
stuff or the cheap stuff?” Being the last of the big spenders I said, “get me the good stuff”.
When the supply arrived it shocked me, a big bag, with at least 20 buds, no seeds and obviously not trash, I paid the tab. It cost me $4.00 including $1.00 tip to the mototaxi. The bag lasted 3 of us (another story maybe someday) over a week
and I gave the balance to the driver that took me to the boat to Koh Kong. I don’t know if it was the weed or the buckets of Long Island Ice Tea I consumed on the beach, but, that week was a complete blur and I vowed to stop smoking.
My next trip to Sihanoukville was about 6 months later and also was for 10 day, but with 2 different friends. On the 3rd morning getting up at least 3 hours earlier than my 2 friends (9am) I ventured out to the beach looking for breakfast
on the beach. Walking a mile or so past at least 50 beach bars I stopped at one that advertised “Happy pancakes”. At that hour of the morning while I did not want to wake up my friends and their “overnight meaningful relationships”
I think I woke up the cook at my beachfront café.
The breakfast finally arrived and I smothered the flat disk with honey to hide the flat taste. Feeling nothing and ready to go home to roust my friends I asked for some of the advertised “free smoke”. Leaves were provided in
a bowl but I had to beg around for some paper and someone to roll a joint for me. 3 puffs and heavy coughing for 5 minutes was all I could handle. I walked the mile and a half home, determined not to tell my friends about my early walk and see
if they noticed any difference.
My nonchalance was not noticed, but for the rest of the day I probably heard 10 times from them “what is the matter with you, you are so quiet, something is different”. I continued to live the lie and insist it was nothing but their imagination.
Finally at 11 pm I confessed my ingestion of “Happy pancakes” and they welcomed the explanation. My next trip to Cambo in April I will not indulge in anything “happy” on any of the items on any of the menus. Many menus
in Sihanoukville advertise “any item on the menu can be made happy, just ask your waitress”, I am convinced that I can be more happy without the added herbs than I can with them.
As a added note I agree with the t-shirts I see around Thailand saying, “man made booze, God made marijuana, who do you trust?” but I want to spend the rest of my years enjoying life in LOS and for that reason I never have and
never will smoke anything in LOS.
Happy Herb’s is a very well known spot, with almost legendary status in South East Asia. While I am not into drugs at all, it is still interesting to hear about the place.