Upon leaving Khmer-Russian Friendship Hospital we made our way towards the River, the Mekong and its parallel branch, Tonle Sap, which diverges north of Phnom Penh. He took me to a street I will not mention for the safety of any intrepid traveller who may follow in my steps. That said I fully documented my time there in my Flickr Photo Stream.
I have been in shady places most of my life but have to admit that I had never came close to such an overpowering odor of human urine. It was four floors- though I earlier mistakenly inagined it had 6 floors. Roughly dated to the mid-1960s the structure is cement, a block long, a walk up with huge apts. all manner of junkie was keeping home in the hallways. The floors were catwalks on the lengthway. In the huge blocklong courtyard squatters had built a small village, homes atop homes with now a third level dangerously going up. Again, in my photos I illustrated much of it.
Heroin, smoked and IVd comes in little golden foils- gold as in 24kt orange gold. I earlier estimated that each foil- a single dosage- amounts to about 300mgs. Now I woukd say it doesnt even surpass 100mgs. Still, reputedly unadulterated even 40 to 100mgs at $2.50 US per is a hell of a deal.
In 1992 if I recall correctly, I was living in Tampa, Florida and at that point the city was scorched dry. A tonne of crack at shi**y prices, dirt Mexican weed but again, no opiates/opioids. I remember some Puerto Rican from Brooklyn had his brains splattered during a DEA investigation into his distribution of coke and dope (heroin) but it being a small world the girl I was with then, her brother knew him back up north. That was as close as I got to heroin back then...and then the girl I was with dragged me to a family gathering in Brooklyn.
I hopped a subway up to East Harlem, aka "Spanish Harlem." I had a son with her, still an infant. We got off on E.116th Street. I left her window shopping on Second Avenue and I casually made my way slowly up to E.125th Street. At 122nd I saw a Puerto Rican dealing put of a doorway to a white prostitute. I tried to buy 8 bags but he refused me, thinking I was a cop or whatever. Frustrated I walked back down to my girl and my son. I wasnt thinking of that guy but as we walked past his spot he eagerly called me over saying he didnt know I was OK. I shrugged my shoulders and got my bags.
I have always had a very high opiate/opioid threashhold so I quickly insufflated one and then half of the other. I was happy to feel the warmth back in my body and my mind. We hopped on a downtown train and like within a minute I had waves of naseau come over me and right there began heaving. We got off at 34th Street and had to spend our travel budget on a Four Star Hotel ($840 for a double per night). I was on the floor of the loo vomiting my brains out. I had only gotten down 1.5 bags (~150mgs Beige, "Happyland," a green stamp). The name referred to a Punta disco. "Punta" was and remains the pop music of the Garifuna. The Garifuna were African slaves en route to Brasil whose ship ran aground off of St. Lucia in the Caribbean. The Africans made their way ashore somehow, one presumes they were unshackled after water began rushing through the hold where most would have been chained.
Once on St Lucia they ran for the hills and like so many escaped slaves in the Caribbean became fierce warriors collectively known as "Maroons." After nearly 2 centuries free in the mountains they finally made peace with the English who then shipped them to the Mosquito Coast in what is now Honduras. There some assimilated into the Miskito Native American Tribe. Their descendants became known as "Garifuna." Coal black they speak a unique form of Spanish, their own African-based language known AS "Garifuna," as well as Caribbean English ("Yeah mon").
The Garifuna began migrating to NYC in the 1990s where they tended to settle in the South Bronx. This particular club, "Happyland," was on Southern Blvd near E.180th Street. A woman working the coatcheque room broke up with her Cuban boyfriend after discovering that he was a crack addict just after Xmas of 1989. He continued obsessing about the woman and on March 25th, 1990, convinced she was involved with a coworker the ex set a fire that murdered 87 people!
The bag was VERY pure. Overdosing via insufflation isnt difficult at all if using pure or close to pure heroin. Since those 2 days of incessant puking I have almost always played it safe even when insufflating. These Cambodian foils are deceptively innocent looking. I could easily see a Western addict just doing 4 or 5 as if they are nothing...of course that Westerner almost immediately would start dying.
I have been in shady places most of my life but have to admit that I had never came close to such an overpowering odor of human urine. It was four floors- though I earlier mistakenly inagined it had 6 floors. Roughly dated to the mid-1960s the structure is cement, a block long, a walk up with huge apts. all manner of junkie was keeping home in the hallways. The floors were catwalks on the lengthway. In the huge blocklong courtyard squatters had built a small village, homes atop homes with now a third level dangerously going up. Again, in my photos I illustrated much of it.
Heroin, smoked and IVd comes in little golden foils- gold as in 24kt orange gold. I earlier estimated that each foil- a single dosage- amounts to about 300mgs. Now I woukd say it doesnt even surpass 100mgs. Still, reputedly unadulterated even 40 to 100mgs at $2.50 US per is a hell of a deal.
In 1992 if I recall correctly, I was living in Tampa, Florida and at that point the city was scorched dry. A tonne of crack at shi**y prices, dirt Mexican weed but again, no opiates/opioids. I remember some Puerto Rican from Brooklyn had his brains splattered during a DEA investigation into his distribution of coke and dope (heroin) but it being a small world the girl I was with then, her brother knew him back up north. That was as close as I got to heroin back then...and then the girl I was with dragged me to a family gathering in Brooklyn.
I hopped a subway up to East Harlem, aka "Spanish Harlem." I had a son with her, still an infant. We got off on E.116th Street. I left her window shopping on Second Avenue and I casually made my way slowly up to E.125th Street. At 122nd I saw a Puerto Rican dealing put of a doorway to a white prostitute. I tried to buy 8 bags but he refused me, thinking I was a cop or whatever. Frustrated I walked back down to my girl and my son. I wasnt thinking of that guy but as we walked past his spot he eagerly called me over saying he didnt know I was OK. I shrugged my shoulders and got my bags.
I have always had a very high opiate/opioid threashhold so I quickly insufflated one and then half of the other. I was happy to feel the warmth back in my body and my mind. We hopped on a downtown train and like within a minute I had waves of naseau come over me and right there began heaving. We got off at 34th Street and had to spend our travel budget on a Four Star Hotel ($840 for a double per night). I was on the floor of the loo vomiting my brains out. I had only gotten down 1.5 bags (~150mgs Beige, "Happyland," a green stamp). The name referred to a Punta disco. "Punta" was and remains the pop music of the Garifuna. The Garifuna were African slaves en route to Brasil whose ship ran aground off of St. Lucia in the Caribbean. The Africans made their way ashore somehow, one presumes they were unshackled after water began rushing through the hold where most would have been chained.
Once on St Lucia they ran for the hills and like so many escaped slaves in the Caribbean became fierce warriors collectively known as "Maroons." After nearly 2 centuries free in the mountains they finally made peace with the English who then shipped them to the Mosquito Coast in what is now Honduras. There some assimilated into the Miskito Native American Tribe. Their descendants became known as "Garifuna." Coal black they speak a unique form of Spanish, their own African-based language known AS "Garifuna," as well as Caribbean English ("Yeah mon").
The Garifuna began migrating to NYC in the 1990s where they tended to settle in the South Bronx. This particular club, "Happyland," was on Southern Blvd near E.180th Street. A woman working the coatcheque room broke up with her Cuban boyfriend after discovering that he was a crack addict just after Xmas of 1989. He continued obsessing about the woman and on March 25th, 1990, convinced she was involved with a coworker the ex set a fire that murdered 87 people!
The bag was VERY pure. Overdosing via insufflation isnt difficult at all if using pure or close to pure heroin. Since those 2 days of incessant puking I have almost always played it safe even when insufflating. These Cambodian foils are deceptively innocent looking. I could easily see a Western addict just doing 4 or 5 as if they are nothing...of course that Westerner almost immediately would start dying.