I put Happy Pizza on my Wanderlust ever since I knew there is a “Happy” Pizza.
I first read it in Sally’s eBook, Best of Unbrave Girl, where she mentioned about space pizza while traveling to Laos. Whatever Sally does, I want to do it also because I have a tiny crush on how she lives her life, traveling around and living with a cat. Basically, Sally is one of spirit animals and.. um, wait, back to happy pizza. I was determined to try it, more so because I have had enough of getting the disappointed looks from friends who found out that I didn’t eat space brownies when I visited Amsterdam for the first time. Ugh!
I finally tried it, for the first time in Cambodia, in the form of Happy Pizza. And this is the story of it..
On our second night in Cambodia, we, the two unknowingly naive people embarked on our journey to find the happiness, laid on a pizza. The journey was apparently a very short one. A left turn from Pub Street, where we spent our night watching the young tourists behaving like barbarians and getting $1 massage that came with free Wi-Fi and a bottled water.
There were three choices. Happy Special Pizza, Ecstatic Pizza and Happy Herb Pizza, side by side, competing for our attention. We chose Happy Special’s Happy Pizza, because you can’t get it wrong with two times of Happy.
It’s a very normal looking restaurant with a simple seating arrangement (I was expecting something closer to Eric Forman’s basement from The 70’s Show) and a few customers. I guess people don’t have Happy Pizza for dinner. It’s just us, the naives. A grumpy man came to hand out the menu. I looked through it, trying to find the Happy marks, nothing. Just normal pizzas with so many choices that comes with three sizes, sold at normal prices.
I let Fafa order. I told him I didn’t care what pizza we ate as long as it had weed in it.
Is that how addiction starts? My eyes were twitching even before I ate the pizza, but that might have been due to the combination of the yellow light with the orange interior, which was covered with poster-size pictures of people eating pizza and looking lost. No-one famous.
Fafa placed the order with the grumpy man and whispered the word herb ever so softly.
The happy pizza came and I took a bite. It was bitter. In my head bitter pizza = cooked with weed = happiness. So I polished off three quarters of it, while deciding to let the tuk tuk guy to be the designated driver for the night.
I was ready to be taken down and get high with happiness. I was so ready, but nothing.. Not. A. Thing!
I tried to loosen up more, which was quite impossible after being so loosened already by a massage before. We walked around. I began to suspect the weed from happy pizza was not the keyword and started accusing Fafa for making a wrong order. Did he say it properly? Maybe we missed a secret wink.
We waited for some more time until we decided maybe liqueurs would help to open the happy gate. Desperate moments you guys; we gulped down two each, waited, concluded nothing happened and went back to the hotel. DISSAPOINTED.
I was reading when it hiT. Not on me, but on Fafa, lucky bastard! He said he felt happy, light-headed and light. He started flapping his hands like a bird and smiled widely like a doofus. I WANTED TO FEEL IT TOO. Not long after, he went to bed while I waited. I waited for my happiness to kick in. At 1 AM I felt a pinch of deliriousness.
“Is this it?” my heart cried. “No, you are sleepy“, my brain answered.
The end — or so I thought.
I woke up the next day feeling extra sleepy, extra lazy and extra slow, and with a headache thanks to the happy pizza.
This was not what I wanted.
This was the opposite of what I wanted since we had a full day itinerary. Thankfully, the slow feeling went away after a bowl of Khmer porridge (served with prawn, dried fish and beans — Oh, so delicious).
How about you, have you tried happy pizza before? How about space brownies? My suggestion is, for merely $8, don’t skip on Cambodia Happy Pizza! Maybe take up a notch and choose the Ecstatic one and come back and tell me how it was for you.