They don't have railings on their canals

Substances: Mushrooms
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I took a year off between school and university, mainly to travel around and work as a freelance photographer.
I moved in with some family in southern Holland, and immediately fell in love with every aspect of the country. However, I couldn't leave the Netherlands without visiting Amsterdam, so I told my family I was visiting Paris, and got on the train. The rest of Holland despises A'dam, and discourages everyone from visiting.
I spent a week at the Flying Pig hostel, one of the greatest places on the face of this planet. One evening, a teenaged bluegrass singer from St. Louis and I tries Philosophers' Stones, and we damn near killed ourselves!

I have synesthesia, a brain condition where I associate properties with senses. Colours make me think of sounds; smells make me think of numbers, etc. Well, these shrooms gave me the impression that I was being slowly surrounded by the letters that corrospond with all sorts of senses. A whiff of fresh pastry, and I'd be confronted with a giant red letter 'H' looming high above the canals and awkwardly leaning houses. A sound of a car horn, and a purple nine would tumble down the cobblestones.
They don't have railings on their canals... that's fucking dangerous.
It was a day later before I felt okay again. A day later before I stopped hanging onto the walls.