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Gypsy is finally home
- Thread starter oldpink
- Start date
Great news! Very happy for that G.
Enjoy la libertad!
Enjoy la libertad!
Great news, keep us updated and let us know if there is anything we can do.
Peace & love to all my ICMag family.
Peace & love to all my ICMag family.
Hey gypsy
Welcome home and good luck with the next few months getting
Used to life on the outside.
Thanks
GA
Welcome home and good luck with the next few months getting
Used to life on the outside.
Thanks
GA
Hell yeah, Idk how I missed this thread the other day, def some great news. WOOO go Gypsy, happy to have ya home my friend. 
Congratulations too Gypsy and your family. See this is why the real nice people in the world aren't rich or don't have millions. As any person that's remorseful or with common sense knows you got badly treated in every way. Glad you have such a amazing wife that did all that for you during your time in such a hell hole, 
.
That's one of my biggest things in life that the real people that need money don't have it or get treated wrongly. If I where rich you would have been out day 1. Life can be a real bitch sometimes but the bright side is always the sunnist part. You held your head high, kept looking forwards and now the sunny part is coming back. Now that deserves massive respect. Couldn't be happier for you sir. Good luck and best wishes to the Gypsy family.
. That's one of my biggest things in life that the real people that need money don't have it or get treated wrongly. If I where rich you would have been out day 1. Life can be a real bitch sometimes but the bright side is always the sunnist part. You held your head high, kept looking forwards and now the sunny part is coming back. Now that deserves massive respect. Couldn't be happier for you sir. Good luck and best wishes to the Gypsy family.
X
Xray Kimono
With the way things are changing in the world, you should be able to get back on your feet with a quickness.
Modern wars of the tyrant's wills to power have civilian casualties based off of popularity contests.... Those contests martyrs are soon to be at a celebrity status when the tides change, I see great GREAT things in your near future sir... Let me know where I can help.
Peace!
Xray
Post a fund raising thread, and you'll get more than enough to get you back on your feet. Your friends here have got your back. It sucks asking for help, but everything they've done to you is bullshit. You can't get back the time they took from you. All you can do is get back on your feet and start your life again.
Hey bubbleman, truecannabliss et-al, so many of you have moved me emotionally in this thread with your words of encouragement and well wishes..
I don't feel comfortable about passing my hat around, but I have had to ask for help, and got it from some friends when I was stuck in jail, mainly to keep my family from starving over in the Philippines..A good friend even paid for my flight ticket from Manila back to London. Even though I was deported, the flight ticket had to be paid for somehow. If I had waited for the Philippine Bureau of Immigration to pay for it, then I could have been detained for many months more.
The business I had before I was incarcerated has dropped considerably to the point where we can't even buy new stock, and what comes in barely pays for the overheads. Maybe I should start looking at other ways of earning a living?
ptfarmer420
Member
Meet you in Amsterdam Shop early 2000's. Most say that my first bong rip was with you and Old Bonguru.
Welcome back G. You are a gangster. The OG Fucking Gypsy.
Enjoy freedom !
Welcome home Gipsy...
Welcome home Gipsy...
Welcome to the site of the most beautiful in the world ganja ... which just is yours
Four you:
Cat Stevens - “If You Want To Sing Out, Sing Out”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=46QXrJml0UQ
Welcome home Gipsy...
Welcome to the site of the most beautiful in the world ganja ... which just is yours
Four you:
Cat Stevens - “If You Want To Sing Out, Sing Out”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=46QXrJml0UQ
Here's a bit of something I wrote whilst 'Banged Up Abroad'....
Manila 29th August 2013...
>>
>>
>> Sitting amongst my Philippino captors, from the Bureau of Immigration, within that Hyundai Starex van, stuck in an early afternoon traffic jam, upon the hot and abused asphalt of Roxas Blvd, Manila, put my mind into an odd space.
>>
>> The guards around me had not spoken much at all, and when they had emitted something vocal, then it had mostly sounded to me like they were just agreeing with whatever the swarthy, shouty and demonstratively macho sounding 'boss-man', that inhabited the front passenger seat had blurted out in guteral Tagalog. I couldn't really even guess, as to what he was getting them all to agree to. So I just stared out of a window at the other static vehicles, and the poor beggars, outside in the broiling heat and filth, that tried to eek a living out of us who sat within these metal air-conditioned boxes on wheels, and waited, and waited to be able to move again, away towards our destinations, where-ever they might be?
>>
>> The manic kamikaze driver squirmed around in his seat in front of me, obviously stifled by his lack of motion, I could see the scowl on his face, and his blatantly nervous disposition, magnifying, the longer we sat there, jammed in by a wild assortment of motorized sardine cans, none of which you would be likely to survive in any crash over 30mph.
>>
>> The 'boss-man' scowled too, initially towards the disheveled, pregnant woman who held the naked boys hand, as she begged amongst the stalled traffic, knocking on windows with her free hand, then if she managed to achieve eye contact with a driver or passenger, who sat behind tempered glass, in cool air, then she would extend the free hand towards that person momentarily, then bring it to her mouth, as if to pretend to feed, on invisible food.
>>
>> Several hawkers selling small plastic bottles of cold water, cheap flannel sweat towels, wearing 3 or 4 badly made leather Stetson cowboy hats, or 4 or 5 counterfeit NFL baseball hats, busily scurried thru the static traffic, trying to make the most of their captive, potential consumers, before it all started to move again.
>>
>> Gypsy Nirvana was in an odd time-space-head-space. He was so bewildered by his current situation, not knowing exactly why he had been so politely taken from outside his home, away from his family, the night before. The suspense of it all was crippling him. And now the traffic jam was delaying not only all of the travelers around him. It was delaying Gypsy from discovering why he had been detained and brought to this place, under guard.
>>
>> He coped with it, there was no other choice. What else could he do? Trying to make a run for it wouldn't work. Gypsy was 53 years old, and not in particularly great shape to be able to give 5 BI guards, mostly half his age the slip, in the middle of downtown Manila. That's if he could even get out and away from the van in the first place.
>>
>> No, that plan would be doomed to failure, from the get-go. If he were 30 years younger, and in great shape as he was at 24, then, hmmm, MAYBE...
>>
>> After about 9-10 minutes the traffic moved enough around the van, for the driver to pull out into the middle of the dual carriage way, with maximum use of his horn, and race around everyone, cutting them up, rudely carving his way by taking as many ridiculous and unnecessary chances as he could to get us to Intermuros, where the main BI (Bureau of Immigration) offices were.
>> Intermuros is arguably the only semi-interesting bit of architectural history in all of Manila. Left by the Spanish when they had to relinquish their colonial hold on Manila to the Americano's. And that's where this 4-5 story main office building stood that the wanna-be-GP van driver pulled up to, after I had spent more than an hour closer to death, with his hands on the wheel, than Gypsy had done in a whole week, on his Ducati motorbike.
>>
>> Oh yeah, Gypsy was a happy fella, to be able to step down from that van in one piece, he thought. If he could have bent down, and kissed his own ass lucky, he might well have done.
>>
>> Now the nasty little 'boss-man' was indicating that he should be followed, and so he was by the relieved Mr Nirvana, and 2 of the young guards, past the armed security detail, thru metal/bomb detectors, and onto the first flight of stairs going up.
>>
>> I hadn't been able to stretch my legs, so far that day. The detention jail had no place bigger, than half a 40ft container to move around or within, and even that was heavily populated by an odd assortment of multi-racial humanity.
>>
>> Bounding up the stairs, two at a time, he soon caught up with the short-legged 'boss-man', and overtook him. This pissed him off, he wasn't going to be shown up in front of his two younger guards, who now drew level with him. So he attacked the stairway too, trying his best to get ahead of his captive. With his shorter legs, and soon short of breath, it was obvious to Gypsy that he wasn't going to do it unless he eased off, which of course he had to because this 'Prosecutor', he had to see, was on the 3rd floor.
>>
>> Arriving swiftly on the 3rd floor, in almost a dead-heat with the short-assed 'boss-man', who was desperately trying to disguise the fact that he was breathing heavily, Gypsy won a sweaty glare from him, and the words 'Stop Naa, 3rd Floor!'
>>
>> Gypsy grinned and said to the little apprentice dictator in his best interpretation of plum BBC English, 'Ah, Jolly good stretch of the legs, wasn't it just, me old Fray Bentos, steak and kidney pie ?...Now where's this bloody prosecutor?', as he pointed towards the left, then right corridors, looking for direction.
>>
>> 'Follow me Mr Nirvana, this way', said the 'boss-man'...and promptly turned to his right, then started marching along the corridor....
>>
>> It was quite a long, and busy corridor, but two thirds of the way down it, the short, dark, noisy 'boss-man' drew to a halt, and signaled that we had arrived.
>>
>> The two young guards behind Gypsy, ushered him into the small office, one stayed with him, and the other went and sat outside in the corridor, on one of the many benches that lined it.
>>
>> Where the self-important little pratt, with the Napoleonic complex went, he wasn't sure.
>> Gypsy just wanted to see this prosecutor, and find out what the heck this was all about.
>>
>> There was some non-descript guy shuffling papers, and floating about, within the office, and he said to take a seat.
>>
>> 'Prosecutor Arellano will be here, in just a minute', he said. So I sat down, and twiddled my thumbs, with nervous energy.
>> Within a couple of minutes a tall, lean, light skinned, almost Spanish looking fella, entered the little office, as if he owned it, and sat behind the desk in front of me. He softly said a few words to the paper shuffler in Tagalog, then stood up and introduced himself. ' Hello Mr Nirvana, I'm prosecutor Arelano' he said offering a cold, clammy hand, that shook like a wet halibut.
>>
>> 'Ah yes, how do you do Mr Arellano, so finally I am going to find out why I have been brought all the way from my home and family in Subic, made to spend the night in some god-aweful 'Dungeon of Despots', then brought here under armed guard in a van driven by some schizophrenic with a Philipe' Massa complex!. Is that correct? Please don't hold back on informing me now, because I am curious beyond belief, for you to divulge to me what on earth the problem is, that I seem to be facing. My immigration status is in good order. I have shown my valid ACR card with the PERMANENT QUOTA VISA, and my VALID British Passport, to your agents last evening, to then have them confiscated, without the promised receipt, once they had verified their validity. I am all ears Mr Arellano, .....pray....tell?
>> He said in a voice that went from rough to smooth, indignant to stoically curious.
>>
>> 'Hmmm where is your lawyer Mr Nirvana?. We can't start this 'Preliminary Hearing' without your legal representative present sir'...Arellano said matter of fact-ly'...
>>
>> Lawyer?....is this a court of law Mr Arellano?...Why do I need a lawyer?, am I to be charged with something? Gypsy said, already knowing that he had been told that a lawyer would be required here, and having arranged for legal rep, thru his friend and lawyer 600 miles away on Palawan, Christian Libiran...
>>
>> 'I did make arrangements earlier, rather hurriedly, due to the circumstances, and apparently, two lawyers were supposed to meet me here, let me make a call, and then, perhaps I can verify their whereabouts' Gypsy said, concentrating on his cell-phone.
>>
>> He called the office of Attorney Quintana, and was told that the legal duo had left 10 minutes ago, from Makati, and so were on their way. How long they might take to get there was anyone's guess, traffic being as it was, generally constipated.
>>
>> 'Apparently my attorney's are in transit to this office, at this time, and hopefully they will arrive ASAP, Mr Arellano. Now be a good chap and give me some sort of a clue why, I have been brought here, and given the pleasure of meeting someone, such as your self, with the title of 'Prosecutor?'....for I have absolutely no bloody idea why!
>> He said with an urgent, but also slightly humorous tone, causing the tall, youngish, prosecutor to grin a little.
>>
>> Arellano then looked directly at me and said, 'You can wait outside until they arrive, try and hurry them up, I'm a busy man, and need to see them as soon as they arrive.' Then Arellano stood up, as did everyone, and the guard left the small office with Gypsy, and spilled out into the corridor once again.
>> Suddenly the swarthy, tin-Hitler of a 'boss-man' appeared, and demanded to know what had transpired from the guard, that had just vacated the office. 'Mr Nirvana, do you have the phone number of your lawyer, because I need to know where they are, and how long before they arrive here ?'...he said with veiled forcefulness, taking a pen and small note-pad, from his shirts breast pocket.
>>
>> 'I only have their main office number, since this has all been rather rushed, and I have never had cause to ever need a lawyer in Manila before. You lot have given me just a few hours to try and organize one, such short notice, and for what?, I'm yet to discover..
>> The more than slightly perturbed Englishman said.
>>
>> 'Ok Ok Ok, give me the lawyer office number, we have a tight schedule, and not so much time'
>> The little man said, kind of rudely.
>>
>> I pressed the touch-screen on my old IPhone 3 and the Lawyers office reception answered, then handed my phone to the nasty little man.
>>
>> He rattled away in the local Tagalog lingo for a minute, writing down another number, then gave me my phone back, and started tapping in the new number, and called it, to rattle on again, probably asking the legal duo where they might be, I presumed?
>> The next hour or so comprised of much pacing, wringing of hands, and a trip out of the door at the far end of the corridor, onto a fire escape, with guard in tow, to be able to smoke upon a small cheroot, which I found inside my small, black, gortex bag which contained my wallet, and remaining ID, some cash, phone and charger, tooth brush, mints and a small pack of wet-wipes, for those sticky moments.
>>
>> I stood up on the parapet of the old black iron fire escape, looking out over the old Spanish walls of Intermuros, and all the milling crowds of people below, ducking, diving and dodging thru the stop and go traffic, as I racked my brains, wondering how and why I had become such an attraction to the Philippine Bureau of Immigration?.. But alas, I just could not figure it out. Only Arellano could and would inform me, as soon as these two unknown attorney's arrived upon the scene..
>>
>> I smoked my little cigar, puffing the thick, rich, grey smoke off the elevated platform, watching the smoke dissipate, and dissolve into the rest of the smog, holding onto the rail with two hands, as if on the bridge of a great ship, savoring the calm, before the storm. Wondering, just wondering, what sort of tempest might soon befall me?
>>
>> That hour was a slow one, but as all hours do, it came to pass, and the mini-Marcos returned to inform me, and walk back along the active corridor briskly with me, where, outside Arellano's office I was introduced to Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum, who were to be my hastily supplied legal eagles. Neither of them had much if any presence at all. And to this day I could not even pick them out of a crowd, let alone remember their names. Still, I considered, at least the utter suspense that was really bugging me, should soon disappear, and be gone, once we got in front of Attorney Arellano, the BI Prosecutor, whom was only there to prosecute me for something as yet unknown. He most certainly was not there to award me with a bunch of roses and a Purple Heart!
>>
>> Shaking another pair of cod-fish like hands I introduced myself to Dee and Dumb, who were alike in that they were both barely over 5ft tall, with that unmistakable, youthful atrophied countenance of a pair of 'chubby', library desk-jockey's.
>> They grinned shyly with dark ringed eye's, as if in some sort of repressed glee, in being allowed out of their gloomy little offices, most probably.
>>
>> Trying to 'cut to the chase', with much haste, I popped my stressed head into Arellano's office, in order to communicate to him, that now, the awful proceedings could commence, since I had just acquired the required, requirements in the legal sense. And was able to 'Sally-Forth', and meet whatever dismal prosecution, Arellano had been holding back from hitting me with a broadside about. Safe in the knowledge that I had two of the most unlikely looking, dip-shits, masquerading as lawyers, right by my side.
>>
>> 'Ehh...where is Attorney Arellano?'....I blurted out, exasperated, to the paper shuffler, who was playing with the filing cabinet.
>>
>> 'I think he went to CR(comfort room) sir?' came the reply.
>> 'No problem, you can wait here sir'....and then, the filing cabinet fancier, made a very gay, swishing movement with both of his hands, and smiled as he stared at my crotch.
>>
>> Feeling slightly weird and uncomfortable, I rounded up my two legal munchkins, and opened the door of the little office, so that they could shuffle in, 'walking point'...into the office, to be greeted in hushed, effeminate tones, by the file shuffling, crotch fancier..
>>
>> In front of Arellano's desk was a cheap, chip-board, low bench, that was all their was to sit on, and Dee and Dumb made a bee-line for it, chattering away, scrunching their ample asses onto the very low bench, like two chunky teddy bears with verbal dihorea, as they nattered away, to camp file philanderer.
>>
>> The whole scene had a certain surreal quality to it. As Attorney Arellano walked back into the office, from taking a dump, he said, 'Please take a seat Mr Nirvana', as he pointed to the low bench.
>>
>> Dee and Dumb managed to scoot to either side of the narrow ass-space, and managed to create what looked like, just enough room, for me to wedge my 250lb frame between them. But I wasn't so sure at first until they both simultaneously patted the space and said, 'Come, sit, it's Ok', and so I sat, with my knees almost up to my chest, about two foot off the floor, with Dum and Dee's heads up under my armpits, with them both giggling, as if this was some sort of bloody situation comedy show!
>>
>> Arellano shooed the Pooftah of a file clerk away, from behind his desk, and out the door, since now there was hardly any space left, even to stand, in that tiny little office.
>>
>> The office felt uncomfortably warm now, with only one standing fan that the BI Prosecutor swiveled around, and turned its luke warm air-blast onto himself.
>> I was effectively sandwiched between two quite sweaty bovine lawyers, who's body heat and weird funky domestic animal smelling body odor, combined with having to look up at the towering Arellano, now liberally ensconced within his luxury high, black leather swiveling desk chair, in such a commanding position, glaring whimsically at the big slap-headed white man, that I felt like some sort of alien gnome, about to be sentenced by some Grand Inquisitor!
>>
>> Well....so here we were, and finally after 18 hours of capture and detention, this 30 something Filipino lawyer, was about to quench my curiosity. And I somehow knew that I wasn't going to like it.
>>
>> Initially Arellano chatted briefly in Tagalog with Dee and Dum and then said to me.
>> 'Mr Nirvana, are you at all aware of any charges against you?'..
>> 'No, not at all. I thought that I made that abundantly clear to you earlier, before these two, eh, gentlemen showed up to represent me here. I am desperate to know what all this is about, and am amazed how there could be anything in the way of criminal charges against me, because I can't see, realize nor comprehend, where or how I have managed to break any laws here, other than maybe going a little over the speed limit at times. And if that's the charge, then why on earth am I here before an immigration prosecutor, and not the Highway Patrol?
>>
>> 'This is not about breaking any laws within the Philippines, Mr Nirvana. These charges emanate from the USA', he said coyly, as he produced a big, bound sheaf of white paper, in the form of an official looking document, and handed it to me.
>> I started to read and it said that an arrest warrant had been issued against me, in a state that I had never even set foot in, Maine USA, Bangor, Maine, to be precise.
>> The arrest warrant had been issued on the 15th August 2013 for 4 different charges;
>> 1.Conspiracy to manufacture, distribute and posses with intent to distribute marijuana.
>> 2.Conspiracy to import marijuana.
>> 3.Conspiracy to export marijuana from the USA to England.
>> 4.Conspiracy to launder monetary instruments.
>> Wow!...This was serious stuff!
>> And then it dawned upon me, who I knew that lived in Maine. One particularly prominent seed breeder/supplier (Rezdog) - and an ex-American girlfriend .
>> I was not allowed to have a copy of this document, which laid out the investigations of a certain Federal, 'Agent Fife', concerning, what was said to be two previous employees of mine ,that had become 'Confidential Informants', after falling foul of the laws within their own country, the USA, where this whole case had been built against me for 'Conspiracies'.
>>
>> To me it appeared to be quite a comprehensive document, constantly implying and accusing me of crimes concerning 'Narcotics'....
>> And I knew that I had never traded in, what myself and my country, the UK deems as being a 'Narcotic!'
>>
>> I had been traveling the world, for nearly 40 years gathering seeds, particularly cannabis seeds. And since the late 1990's I had become a vendor, buyer and seller of many varied types of cannabis seeds.
>>
>> Cannabis in seed form does not contain any delta 9 'Tetrahydrocannabinols.' So there is no 'drug' or narcotic within, or on, a cannabis/marijuana seed.
>>
>> In the UK, where I have lived most of my life, since I am British, the possession, trade or sale of cannabis seeds is completely legal. That is where I formed my first seed selling venture called 'Seedsdirect.to' during 1998, whilst owning and operating my first shop 'Gypsy Nirvana', which primarily specialized in body piercing and tattoo's, plus a small retail space which sold crystals, imported ornaments, incense, and head-shop supplies.
>>
>> Over the years the business morphed and grew, until I had three shops in South London, England and a shop in Amsterdam called 'Seedboutique'...
>> The mail order seed business, which came from at first seedsdirect.to, enjoyed healthy growth, due to many international customers ordering from around the globe. For legal reasons the seeds were sold as 'Novelties' and I always made sure that every successive website had a disclaimer, making sure that, if customers were to grow the seeds into cannabis/marijuana plants, then the owness was upon them.
I could not be responsible for what growers might grow in the privacy of their own homes, or anywhere for that matter, so could not be deemed liable.
>>
>> What I did as a seed vendor was legal, thru a tax paying legally registered company.
>> Of course, I have always had my personal belief that an individual should be allowed to grow what he/she likes within the privacy of their own homes and gardens and be able to consume what they grow, if they so wish. Whether it be tomatoes, hops to make beer, grapes to make wine, any fruit, vegetable, flowers, herbs, tobacco, coffee, tea's or spices including cannabis for practical, medicinal, nutritional or recreational use.
>> This should be a fundamental human right.
Manila 29th August 2013...
>>
>>
>> Sitting amongst my Philippino captors, from the Bureau of Immigration, within that Hyundai Starex van, stuck in an early afternoon traffic jam, upon the hot and abused asphalt of Roxas Blvd, Manila, put my mind into an odd space.
>>
>> The guards around me had not spoken much at all, and when they had emitted something vocal, then it had mostly sounded to me like they were just agreeing with whatever the swarthy, shouty and demonstratively macho sounding 'boss-man', that inhabited the front passenger seat had blurted out in guteral Tagalog. I couldn't really even guess, as to what he was getting them all to agree to. So I just stared out of a window at the other static vehicles, and the poor beggars, outside in the broiling heat and filth, that tried to eek a living out of us who sat within these metal air-conditioned boxes on wheels, and waited, and waited to be able to move again, away towards our destinations, where-ever they might be?
>>
>> The manic kamikaze driver squirmed around in his seat in front of me, obviously stifled by his lack of motion, I could see the scowl on his face, and his blatantly nervous disposition, magnifying, the longer we sat there, jammed in by a wild assortment of motorized sardine cans, none of which you would be likely to survive in any crash over 30mph.
>>
>> The 'boss-man' scowled too, initially towards the disheveled, pregnant woman who held the naked boys hand, as she begged amongst the stalled traffic, knocking on windows with her free hand, then if she managed to achieve eye contact with a driver or passenger, who sat behind tempered glass, in cool air, then she would extend the free hand towards that person momentarily, then bring it to her mouth, as if to pretend to feed, on invisible food.
>>
>> Several hawkers selling small plastic bottles of cold water, cheap flannel sweat towels, wearing 3 or 4 badly made leather Stetson cowboy hats, or 4 or 5 counterfeit NFL baseball hats, busily scurried thru the static traffic, trying to make the most of their captive, potential consumers, before it all started to move again.
>>
>> Gypsy Nirvana was in an odd time-space-head-space. He was so bewildered by his current situation, not knowing exactly why he had been so politely taken from outside his home, away from his family, the night before. The suspense of it all was crippling him. And now the traffic jam was delaying not only all of the travelers around him. It was delaying Gypsy from discovering why he had been detained and brought to this place, under guard.
>>
>> He coped with it, there was no other choice. What else could he do? Trying to make a run for it wouldn't work. Gypsy was 53 years old, and not in particularly great shape to be able to give 5 BI guards, mostly half his age the slip, in the middle of downtown Manila. That's if he could even get out and away from the van in the first place.
>>
>> No, that plan would be doomed to failure, from the get-go. If he were 30 years younger, and in great shape as he was at 24, then, hmmm, MAYBE...
>>
>> After about 9-10 minutes the traffic moved enough around the van, for the driver to pull out into the middle of the dual carriage way, with maximum use of his horn, and race around everyone, cutting them up, rudely carving his way by taking as many ridiculous and unnecessary chances as he could to get us to Intermuros, where the main BI (Bureau of Immigration) offices were.
>> Intermuros is arguably the only semi-interesting bit of architectural history in all of Manila. Left by the Spanish when they had to relinquish their colonial hold on Manila to the Americano's. And that's where this 4-5 story main office building stood that the wanna-be-GP van driver pulled up to, after I had spent more than an hour closer to death, with his hands on the wheel, than Gypsy had done in a whole week, on his Ducati motorbike.
>>
>> Oh yeah, Gypsy was a happy fella, to be able to step down from that van in one piece, he thought. If he could have bent down, and kissed his own ass lucky, he might well have done.
>>
>> Now the nasty little 'boss-man' was indicating that he should be followed, and so he was by the relieved Mr Nirvana, and 2 of the young guards, past the armed security detail, thru metal/bomb detectors, and onto the first flight of stairs going up.
>>
>> I hadn't been able to stretch my legs, so far that day. The detention jail had no place bigger, than half a 40ft container to move around or within, and even that was heavily populated by an odd assortment of multi-racial humanity.
>>
>> Bounding up the stairs, two at a time, he soon caught up with the short-legged 'boss-man', and overtook him. This pissed him off, he wasn't going to be shown up in front of his two younger guards, who now drew level with him. So he attacked the stairway too, trying his best to get ahead of his captive. With his shorter legs, and soon short of breath, it was obvious to Gypsy that he wasn't going to do it unless he eased off, which of course he had to because this 'Prosecutor', he had to see, was on the 3rd floor.
>>
>> Arriving swiftly on the 3rd floor, in almost a dead-heat with the short-assed 'boss-man', who was desperately trying to disguise the fact that he was breathing heavily, Gypsy won a sweaty glare from him, and the words 'Stop Naa, 3rd Floor!'
>>
>> Gypsy grinned and said to the little apprentice dictator in his best interpretation of plum BBC English, 'Ah, Jolly good stretch of the legs, wasn't it just, me old Fray Bentos, steak and kidney pie ?...Now where's this bloody prosecutor?', as he pointed towards the left, then right corridors, looking for direction.
>>
>> 'Follow me Mr Nirvana, this way', said the 'boss-man'...and promptly turned to his right, then started marching along the corridor....
>>
>> It was quite a long, and busy corridor, but two thirds of the way down it, the short, dark, noisy 'boss-man' drew to a halt, and signaled that we had arrived.
>>
>> The two young guards behind Gypsy, ushered him into the small office, one stayed with him, and the other went and sat outside in the corridor, on one of the many benches that lined it.
>>
>> Where the self-important little pratt, with the Napoleonic complex went, he wasn't sure.
>> Gypsy just wanted to see this prosecutor, and find out what the heck this was all about.
>>
>> There was some non-descript guy shuffling papers, and floating about, within the office, and he said to take a seat.
>>
>> 'Prosecutor Arellano will be here, in just a minute', he said. So I sat down, and twiddled my thumbs, with nervous energy.
>> Within a couple of minutes a tall, lean, light skinned, almost Spanish looking fella, entered the little office, as if he owned it, and sat behind the desk in front of me. He softly said a few words to the paper shuffler in Tagalog, then stood up and introduced himself. ' Hello Mr Nirvana, I'm prosecutor Arelano' he said offering a cold, clammy hand, that shook like a wet halibut.
>>
>> 'Ah yes, how do you do Mr Arellano, so finally I am going to find out why I have been brought all the way from my home and family in Subic, made to spend the night in some god-aweful 'Dungeon of Despots', then brought here under armed guard in a van driven by some schizophrenic with a Philipe' Massa complex!. Is that correct? Please don't hold back on informing me now, because I am curious beyond belief, for you to divulge to me what on earth the problem is, that I seem to be facing. My immigration status is in good order. I have shown my valid ACR card with the PERMANENT QUOTA VISA, and my VALID British Passport, to your agents last evening, to then have them confiscated, without the promised receipt, once they had verified their validity. I am all ears Mr Arellano, .....pray....tell?
>> He said in a voice that went from rough to smooth, indignant to stoically curious.
>>
>> 'Hmmm where is your lawyer Mr Nirvana?. We can't start this 'Preliminary Hearing' without your legal representative present sir'...Arellano said matter of fact-ly'...
>>
>> Lawyer?....is this a court of law Mr Arellano?...Why do I need a lawyer?, am I to be charged with something? Gypsy said, already knowing that he had been told that a lawyer would be required here, and having arranged for legal rep, thru his friend and lawyer 600 miles away on Palawan, Christian Libiran...
>>
>> 'I did make arrangements earlier, rather hurriedly, due to the circumstances, and apparently, two lawyers were supposed to meet me here, let me make a call, and then, perhaps I can verify their whereabouts' Gypsy said, concentrating on his cell-phone.
>>
>> He called the office of Attorney Quintana, and was told that the legal duo had left 10 minutes ago, from Makati, and so were on their way. How long they might take to get there was anyone's guess, traffic being as it was, generally constipated.
>>
>> 'Apparently my attorney's are in transit to this office, at this time, and hopefully they will arrive ASAP, Mr Arellano. Now be a good chap and give me some sort of a clue why, I have been brought here, and given the pleasure of meeting someone, such as your self, with the title of 'Prosecutor?'....for I have absolutely no bloody idea why!
>> He said with an urgent, but also slightly humorous tone, causing the tall, youngish, prosecutor to grin a little.
>>
>> Arellano then looked directly at me and said, 'You can wait outside until they arrive, try and hurry them up, I'm a busy man, and need to see them as soon as they arrive.' Then Arellano stood up, as did everyone, and the guard left the small office with Gypsy, and spilled out into the corridor once again.
>> Suddenly the swarthy, tin-Hitler of a 'boss-man' appeared, and demanded to know what had transpired from the guard, that had just vacated the office. 'Mr Nirvana, do you have the phone number of your lawyer, because I need to know where they are, and how long before they arrive here ?'...he said with veiled forcefulness, taking a pen and small note-pad, from his shirts breast pocket.
>>
>> 'I only have their main office number, since this has all been rather rushed, and I have never had cause to ever need a lawyer in Manila before. You lot have given me just a few hours to try and organize one, such short notice, and for what?, I'm yet to discover..
>> The more than slightly perturbed Englishman said.
>>
>> 'Ok Ok Ok, give me the lawyer office number, we have a tight schedule, and not so much time'
>> The little man said, kind of rudely.
>>
>> I pressed the touch-screen on my old IPhone 3 and the Lawyers office reception answered, then handed my phone to the nasty little man.
>>
>> He rattled away in the local Tagalog lingo for a minute, writing down another number, then gave me my phone back, and started tapping in the new number, and called it, to rattle on again, probably asking the legal duo where they might be, I presumed?
>> The next hour or so comprised of much pacing, wringing of hands, and a trip out of the door at the far end of the corridor, onto a fire escape, with guard in tow, to be able to smoke upon a small cheroot, which I found inside my small, black, gortex bag which contained my wallet, and remaining ID, some cash, phone and charger, tooth brush, mints and a small pack of wet-wipes, for those sticky moments.
>>
>> I stood up on the parapet of the old black iron fire escape, looking out over the old Spanish walls of Intermuros, and all the milling crowds of people below, ducking, diving and dodging thru the stop and go traffic, as I racked my brains, wondering how and why I had become such an attraction to the Philippine Bureau of Immigration?.. But alas, I just could not figure it out. Only Arellano could and would inform me, as soon as these two unknown attorney's arrived upon the scene..
>>
>> I smoked my little cigar, puffing the thick, rich, grey smoke off the elevated platform, watching the smoke dissipate, and dissolve into the rest of the smog, holding onto the rail with two hands, as if on the bridge of a great ship, savoring the calm, before the storm. Wondering, just wondering, what sort of tempest might soon befall me?
>>
>> That hour was a slow one, but as all hours do, it came to pass, and the mini-Marcos returned to inform me, and walk back along the active corridor briskly with me, where, outside Arellano's office I was introduced to Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum, who were to be my hastily supplied legal eagles. Neither of them had much if any presence at all. And to this day I could not even pick them out of a crowd, let alone remember their names. Still, I considered, at least the utter suspense that was really bugging me, should soon disappear, and be gone, once we got in front of Attorney Arellano, the BI Prosecutor, whom was only there to prosecute me for something as yet unknown. He most certainly was not there to award me with a bunch of roses and a Purple Heart!
>>
>> Shaking another pair of cod-fish like hands I introduced myself to Dee and Dumb, who were alike in that they were both barely over 5ft tall, with that unmistakable, youthful atrophied countenance of a pair of 'chubby', library desk-jockey's.
>> They grinned shyly with dark ringed eye's, as if in some sort of repressed glee, in being allowed out of their gloomy little offices, most probably.
>>
>> Trying to 'cut to the chase', with much haste, I popped my stressed head into Arellano's office, in order to communicate to him, that now, the awful proceedings could commence, since I had just acquired the required, requirements in the legal sense. And was able to 'Sally-Forth', and meet whatever dismal prosecution, Arellano had been holding back from hitting me with a broadside about. Safe in the knowledge that I had two of the most unlikely looking, dip-shits, masquerading as lawyers, right by my side.
>>
>> 'Ehh...where is Attorney Arellano?'....I blurted out, exasperated, to the paper shuffler, who was playing with the filing cabinet.
>>
>> 'I think he went to CR(comfort room) sir?' came the reply.
>> 'No problem, you can wait here sir'....and then, the filing cabinet fancier, made a very gay, swishing movement with both of his hands, and smiled as he stared at my crotch.
>>
>> Feeling slightly weird and uncomfortable, I rounded up my two legal munchkins, and opened the door of the little office, so that they could shuffle in, 'walking point'...into the office, to be greeted in hushed, effeminate tones, by the file shuffling, crotch fancier..
>>
>> In front of Arellano's desk was a cheap, chip-board, low bench, that was all their was to sit on, and Dee and Dumb made a bee-line for it, chattering away, scrunching their ample asses onto the very low bench, like two chunky teddy bears with verbal dihorea, as they nattered away, to camp file philanderer.
>>
>> The whole scene had a certain surreal quality to it. As Attorney Arellano walked back into the office, from taking a dump, he said, 'Please take a seat Mr Nirvana', as he pointed to the low bench.
>>
>> Dee and Dumb managed to scoot to either side of the narrow ass-space, and managed to create what looked like, just enough room, for me to wedge my 250lb frame between them. But I wasn't so sure at first until they both simultaneously patted the space and said, 'Come, sit, it's Ok', and so I sat, with my knees almost up to my chest, about two foot off the floor, with Dum and Dee's heads up under my armpits, with them both giggling, as if this was some sort of bloody situation comedy show!
>>
>> Arellano shooed the Pooftah of a file clerk away, from behind his desk, and out the door, since now there was hardly any space left, even to stand, in that tiny little office.
>>
>> The office felt uncomfortably warm now, with only one standing fan that the BI Prosecutor swiveled around, and turned its luke warm air-blast onto himself.
>> I was effectively sandwiched between two quite sweaty bovine lawyers, who's body heat and weird funky domestic animal smelling body odor, combined with having to look up at the towering Arellano, now liberally ensconced within his luxury high, black leather swiveling desk chair, in such a commanding position, glaring whimsically at the big slap-headed white man, that I felt like some sort of alien gnome, about to be sentenced by some Grand Inquisitor!
>>
>> Well....so here we were, and finally after 18 hours of capture and detention, this 30 something Filipino lawyer, was about to quench my curiosity. And I somehow knew that I wasn't going to like it.
>>
>> Initially Arellano chatted briefly in Tagalog with Dee and Dum and then said to me.
>> 'Mr Nirvana, are you at all aware of any charges against you?'..
>> 'No, not at all. I thought that I made that abundantly clear to you earlier, before these two, eh, gentlemen showed up to represent me here. I am desperate to know what all this is about, and am amazed how there could be anything in the way of criminal charges against me, because I can't see, realize nor comprehend, where or how I have managed to break any laws here, other than maybe going a little over the speed limit at times. And if that's the charge, then why on earth am I here before an immigration prosecutor, and not the Highway Patrol?
>>
>> 'This is not about breaking any laws within the Philippines, Mr Nirvana. These charges emanate from the USA', he said coyly, as he produced a big, bound sheaf of white paper, in the form of an official looking document, and handed it to me.
>> I started to read and it said that an arrest warrant had been issued against me, in a state that I had never even set foot in, Maine USA, Bangor, Maine, to be precise.
>> The arrest warrant had been issued on the 15th August 2013 for 4 different charges;
>> 1.Conspiracy to manufacture, distribute and posses with intent to distribute marijuana.
>> 2.Conspiracy to import marijuana.
>> 3.Conspiracy to export marijuana from the USA to England.
>> 4.Conspiracy to launder monetary instruments.
>> Wow!...This was serious stuff!
>> And then it dawned upon me, who I knew that lived in Maine. One particularly prominent seed breeder/supplier (Rezdog) - and an ex-American girlfriend .
>> I was not allowed to have a copy of this document, which laid out the investigations of a certain Federal, 'Agent Fife', concerning, what was said to be two previous employees of mine ,that had become 'Confidential Informants', after falling foul of the laws within their own country, the USA, where this whole case had been built against me for 'Conspiracies'.
>>
>> To me it appeared to be quite a comprehensive document, constantly implying and accusing me of crimes concerning 'Narcotics'....
>> And I knew that I had never traded in, what myself and my country, the UK deems as being a 'Narcotic!'
>>
>> I had been traveling the world, for nearly 40 years gathering seeds, particularly cannabis seeds. And since the late 1990's I had become a vendor, buyer and seller of many varied types of cannabis seeds.
>>
>> Cannabis in seed form does not contain any delta 9 'Tetrahydrocannabinols.' So there is no 'drug' or narcotic within, or on, a cannabis/marijuana seed.
>>
>> In the UK, where I have lived most of my life, since I am British, the possession, trade or sale of cannabis seeds is completely legal. That is where I formed my first seed selling venture called 'Seedsdirect.to' during 1998, whilst owning and operating my first shop 'Gypsy Nirvana', which primarily specialized in body piercing and tattoo's, plus a small retail space which sold crystals, imported ornaments, incense, and head-shop supplies.
>>
>> Over the years the business morphed and grew, until I had three shops in South London, England and a shop in Amsterdam called 'Seedboutique'...
>> The mail order seed business, which came from at first seedsdirect.to, enjoyed healthy growth, due to many international customers ordering from around the globe. For legal reasons the seeds were sold as 'Novelties' and I always made sure that every successive website had a disclaimer, making sure that, if customers were to grow the seeds into cannabis/marijuana plants, then the owness was upon them.
I could not be responsible for what growers might grow in the privacy of their own homes, or anywhere for that matter, so could not be deemed liable.
>>
>> What I did as a seed vendor was legal, thru a tax paying legally registered company.
>> Of course, I have always had my personal belief that an individual should be allowed to grow what he/she likes within the privacy of their own homes and gardens and be able to consume what they grow, if they so wish. Whether it be tomatoes, hops to make beer, grapes to make wine, any fruit, vegetable, flowers, herbs, tobacco, coffee, tea's or spices including cannabis for practical, medicinal, nutritional or recreational use.
>> This should be a fundamental human right.
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