Shortly after hearing of Paul’s brush with a Mexican cartel, my friend Nacho—the guy who ran the surf shop next door—returned from surfing and joined us at the bar for a drink.

Nacho’s cool. He has a blend of Native and Hispanic ancestry, is definitely hippied-out with long, thick hair half-down his back, and he loves his bass music. Just the type of friend I like to meet.

Earlier we had talked music a bit and we’d played some tunes for each other. He had really taken to my San Francisco–influenced bass music and in the surf shop he was playing a mix I had shown him earlier. Problem was the guys in the bar were also playing music—crap! So I could hear both types of music playing: the great shit and the crap. I tried to get them to turn off ‘Thriller’ by mentioning how awesome the music from next door was but they didn’t take my hint.

So since my cool new American friends weren’t so cool after all, I went back to hang in Nacho’s store—where the good music was. He finished his beer and joined me in the shop to close up.

While we chatted, I mentioned my favourite pastime—acroyoga. He knew what it was and was down to try it out and, well, with his 8 pack, break dancer flexibility, and surfer stamina I knew he’d be a natural. So we geeked out and had a little ninja-session—me showing him acroyoga and him showing me his own moves. Then we finished off our session just the right way: with some really nice weed.

What a lovely surprise it was when he whipped out his small bag of weed and started breaking it up. I was like, “what?” It was all crystals! It looked like some of the stronger, nicer pot that I see up in BC. I couldn’t believe it; I’d never seen anything like it in Mexico before!

And damn did it taste good, especially after the dirt-weed I had smoked earlier with the Americans. “Holy shit this weed’s amazing. It’s like BC bud!” I told him. “Yeah,” he said, “it’s from Cali—” Made perfect sense. I mean, we Canadians like good strong dope so of course Mexicans would too. And now it seemed that Mexicans ‘in the know’ knew how to get killer weed. Damn was it nice to get super baked! Just like home ‘cept I was in Mexico!

Afterwards we went on an adventure to get some yummy Mexican munchies…and the rest of the evening I can leave to your imagination.

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Funny thing, though, when I got back home and researched the Mexico marijuana situation it basically repeated my experience: Mexicans ‘in the know’ are getting killer medical MJ, just not from Mexico—from the States.