With the rush of scoring wearing off my head began pounding once again, i knew it would take an hour roughly, give or take 15 minutes, before the ganja cake would kick in and so i went back to the room, turned on the weather channel, (i love watching the tropical weather channel when i'm in the Caribbean, yes to see the weather but also to gaze at the map, to watch the weather forming off Africa's west coast, how the storms form, how they track them, how for four or five months out of the year all these islands are in a game of hurricane roulette)... i took a long drink of water or Wata, the local bottled water the hotel provided, and closed my eyes, i breathed slowly and methodically and soon i was out.. i slept for an hour or so when Disaster bounded in the room and i woke briefly, the headache was almost gone and i smiled at Disaster and closed my eyes and went back to sleep...
As previously mentioned the ganja game was exploded in Jamaica... where once one had to hit the beach after dark and look for those flicking lighters and whispers from the shadows, now it was everywhere... every local on the beach whether they were selling bracelets or water or coffee, also sold weed, a good number were carrying something to sell only as a charade when their real intent was selling weed... they'd sell you flower, roll you a joint right there for $5 or $10 dollars, they'd open a bag and all you'd see is that lovely green bud, it's delicious smell wafting up even in the ocean breeze...
Let me state this plainly and simply... the native strain of Jamaica, the Blue Mountain Sticky Wicket, as i call it, is hands down my favorite strain in the world... as one could guess i've tried a ton of different strains, i'm not a fan of sativa but am an unabashed lover of the heavy indica, a stoner in the truest sense of the word, sativa strains mess with my head too much where the indica and i get along perfectly, a body and mind high that lets me contemplate, relax, ease the pain of old joints and a aching back... i have no idea what the BMSW is but i'm guessing it's an indica or indica leaning hybrid, it's got a fruity smell on top but as you begin to grind it and cut it up to smoke there is an earthy dankness that creeps out... in short it's fucking delicious, it stones you well and good yet it doesn't knock you out until you lay down and then one will pass right out with a contented grin on the face... it can only be found on the island and i'm lucky that i've gotten to partake of this wonderful strain on three separate trips...
So with my stash procured, at least one thing was sorted... the first two mornings, since i hadn't had the time to properly break up the stash, i took to eating a piece of ganja cake before breakfast... i mean when in Jamaica... also, one cannot stayed stoned all day if one does not start in the morning... and so i started in the morning... one of my other favorite things was the process of cutting up the sticky wicket, an endeavor that takes on an almost mystical or religious type ceremony for me... this weed is so sticky it needs to be broken up and in the best case scenario left to sit for a day or so just to dry it out a tad more, it remains sticky and delightful just smokes a little easier... and so i'd carve out time when i could escape to my room and prepare my weed, patiently and lovingly cutting it up with a little pair of scissors stashed in my checked bag, cutting and re-cutting into smaller pieces, both my fingers and scissors becoming sticky with the resin from the plant, the whole room filling up with the most beautiful smell Mother Nature has to offer, it's one of my favorite parts of the whole trip and each night, while the boyos ran around the resort, i'd head to the room and go through the ritual, first rolling two joints for the next day and then getting to work breaking up more ganja to dry a bit for the next night, a process i'd do for the next five nights...
There is nothing like the Blue Mountain wake and bake... i'd get up in the morning, procure a cup of coffee, quietly slip a joint out of the joint bag (i bring extra baggies to separate things, the joints in one bag, the flower in another, ganja cake in it's own, i'm nothing if not professional when it comes to weed), i'd sit on the balcony and listen and gaze at the Caribbean Sea and smoke my joint, there was a little coffee shop on the resort that made delicious iced coffee and sometimes in the tropic heat i'd go with one of those to start the day... of course me being me i had to watch my morning intake, there were a few days where i was precariously close to biting off more than i could chew, gooned and on the verge of crawling back into bed but instead i'd walk down to breakfast and enjoy more coffee and a warm croissant dusted in sugar, an omelet, just what the stoner ordered! i'd listen to the BW ramble about this or that and have not a care in the world, listening is part of my job on these trips as the BW goes on and on about her various worries and concerns and pipe dreams while i just contentedly grin and nod my head, too stoned to really give a shit but smart enough to pretend like i do...
I quickly settled into a pleasant routine... a smoke and some ganja cake in the morning, followed by a small beer around noon, sometimes a bit earlier, the rooms were stocked with Red Stripe (my favorite) and El Presidente, the former in 12oz cans and the latter in 8oz cans, i never actually got drunk, the beer was just a refreshing way to relax along with the herb, i'd space them out over the course of the day, usually having 3-4 a day, now and then the occasional beer at lunch or dinner, i actually avoided the slushy fruity rum-filled concoctions but the BW and i did let the boyos have a couple on the trip as a treat, the I-mac almost being old enough on certain islands and Disaster beaming as if he'd gotten away with something... i'd also wander back up to the room for an early afternoon smoke, followed by the pre-dinner smoke, which was then followed by a evening smoke or two... i realized at one point towards the end of the trip that i was so fucking high sometimes that by the end of the day
i'd just find myself smiling, grinning and content...
And while i enjoyed all my smokes there were a few that were some of the most serene and peaceful sessions i've ever had... the way the resort was set up we had to get two rooms, there was a little hallway that led to the doors of both, the BW and I-mac on the left, Disaster and me on the right, this was the closest we could get to adjoining but more on this later... some days the BW in her usual fashion would turn in early-ish and i would adjourn to my room to sit on the balcony with my spliff, a cold beer, a bottle of water, the sound of the sea lapping at the shore, the stars blazing beautifully above me, the gentle sea breeze rustling the palms... and me... stoned and thinking about everything and nothing, contemplating the stars and the sea and the everything in between... thoughts of my father and my sons, of my life in general, of things long forgotten, just a man and his wandering mind... i could faintly hear the goings on at the main area where the entertainment was but for the most part it was beautiful solitude, no one else on the balconies around me, up on the third floor i watched, sometimes sitting in a chair, sometimes leaning on the railing, watching the couples walk by hand in hand, the younger ones sometimes slipping off to the beach, the families strolling by all enjoying themselves, i'd wonder what the boyos were up to, knowing they were off having a good time wandering around, i'd gaze up and down the coast, blanketed in darkness and then back at the sky and the glimmering stars, leaning back in my chair, casually smoking my gear, knowing i'd be back to stardust soon enough, grinning at the wonder of it all... not a bad way to spend an hour or two... (to be cont.)
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