Adventures in Mexican Markets, Part 6: Weed!

When I planned on moving to Acapulco, I had some pretty nieve dreams of the famous sativa Acapulco Gold.  I was dreaming about good quality, cheap prices and high quantities. At one point in time, that was definately the truth.  There was a strain from here that had both a short flowering time and sativa characteristics, known for the more mindful energetic high, by the name of Acapulco Gold.  At this point, it doesn't really exist.  As far as I can tell, the drug war is to blame. 

We've had some interesting experiences trying to acquire some mota, that is cannabis, here in Acapulco. I'm just going to start from the beginning, back to a year ago when we arrived in the city. We had met up with the community and had been told that the driver of a community member had the hookup, so we got his information.  What he came to us with was these newspaper wrapped rolls of weed, literally like the thickness of a cigar but a bit shorter. The weed was terrible, by our standards anyway, but we did get a bit of wax out of it, which is all it was good for at the end of the day.  Those rolls generally have between 4-7 grams of varying quality weed and he charged us between 200-300 pesos each, between 10 and 15 bucks. 

Determined to find another source, we literally took to the Coastera asking anyone that looked like they might have smoked.  Literally all of them told us, not at night.  What kind of city doesn't sell drugs at night? It seemed unheard of to us but likely considering the whole system is still run by cartels. We walked for a long time, eventually encountering an old woman that told us to come back during the day, in a week. 

We were walking home from lunch with a friend a few days after that and encountered a woman that actually called to us.  We told her we were looking for mota and after a little while, she agreed to go.  She was barely dressed and middle aged, she honestly appeared to be a prostitute.  She charged us 100 pesos for the roll and came back and took some out before she gave it to us, accidentally (or maybe not) showing us her ass on the way.  When we got home we found that there was just about as much sand as weed, which is where weed here earned the nickname seaweed. 

There were some english speaking beach workers that we were friendly with, so we decided to ask them.  They came at us with like 2 rolls of the crappiest weed I had seen up until that point for 1000 pesos, which is like 50 bucks USD. We refused and asked who their source was.  They pointed to a rather obvious guy down the beach and we made our way over to him.

He was an ass, wouldn't go cheaper than 100 pesos a roll.  By that point, through asking around, we had found out that locals were only paying 20 for them, 40 at most. Everyone we came in contact with seemed determined to get their cut out of us though, which was frustrating.  We refused to buy and moved on.  I'm not specifically sure how we handled the problem, it might have been with help with someone from the conference. 

For a long time, we didn't really have money for weed. We negotiated a few jobs that kept dabs around but we weren't really adventuring to the beach.  When we were, we were having a friend get it for us as he pays local prices.  Recently though, that hasn't worked out.  For whatever reason, we've had to take matters into our own hands. So I decided to grow some balls and just go buy it myself, for the prices I knew it was supposed to be, about 40-50 pesos a roll at this point. 

The first time was hilarious.  I went to the spot where I knew to go and asked the first guy that approached me.  He immediately seemed like he was going to gringo me until I told him the price. He flagged over a different guy, who came to talk to me.  He was young and seemed seriously surprised that he was talking to me. He asked where I was from.  I told him and let him know I live here now (Yo vivo aqui, ahora). He smiled and mentioned that it's bonita, a way of saying nice or pretty. He asked why I'm here, as just about everyone does and I told him.  I'm here for the freedom.  He asked how many I wanted, I told him four which surprised him.  Most buy one, maaaybe 2 rolls at a time. He nodded and walked away.

A minute later he came back with the rolls and a shake of the hand. We talked for a few minutes before, just small talk, and I left a different way then I came. It was kind of a cool feeling, it went so smoothly.  My dreads are the key that gets me in though, honestly. I had much more confidence for the next time we would need weed.

We ended up needing it soon and I found myself back there.  The same guy was there with a smile, and another surprised look when I told him six.  He had me come sit over to the side with him to talk, where he asked about my dreadlocks.  I explained I did them.  I also explained that I'm a glassblower. There were several guys around, all amused by my appearance which is honestly peculiar by american standards.  Then put me in a culture where tattoos are still slightly taboo and we have an interesting mix of reactions that I get on a daily basis. They actually gave me change that day, which I wasn't expecting. I've essentially been accepted as a local as far as weed is concerned.

Then we started noticing that there were a lot of police around and none of the usual guys were around.  When asking my friend, he would just frown and say nothing. Today, somewhat desperate, I sat down next to my compadre by the water and asked what was going on. He gave me a serious look and told me to relax, walk on beach, look for a certain landmark (which I'm going to keep private, the beach is covered in landmarks and I'm not interested in giving this one away) with the guy. So I started my walk. 

It was a nice, leisurely walk down the beach.  At a certain point, I was joined by someone who had middle manned me recently.  He mentioned there had been lots of problems with police so the guy moved for now. He told me to just ask in the future, that someone would point me the right way if the guy wasn't at his usual place, which is useful as there have been SO many times where we've gone and not come home with anything.  It's a nice little trick, pickup and move down a ways, let word send people your way.

When we found him by his landmark, he cracked a grin and said "Hola baby".  Mexico is a very flirtatious culture, so I didn't really care. Today a girl was making eyes at John with a sucker in her mouth until she made eye contact with me. I realized what was going on and smiled, as her expression was amusing. It's just a really flirty place.  Expect the women at walmart to be dressed like they're headed to the club.  Makes for such an interesting dynamic in the culture, considering it's also super catholic. 

I sat down with him for a few minutes, where I requested my 5 rolls.  The guy I was with was surprised, although the guy selling isn't really at this point.  He got me my rolls, we spoke for a few minutes and I headed back down the beach.  When I passed the area where his old spot was, it was filled with military. One beach worker asked me if I needed anything, I told him I already found it.  He saluted me and turned the other way. 

I headed back to the truck, almost laughing from another adventure on the beach. I got in and told John about my adventures, to which he shrugged and pulled away.  Now we know, when he's not there, he's probably somewhere. 

I expected the weed market to be better, although I'm not sure why.  This is where what's known as ditch weed is from in the states is from.  The illegal market and the drug war have made it so the weed is a pain to find and absolute shit quality.  Most of the violence here occurs between government and cartel and a lot of it has to do with local weed sales.  Much like busting marijuana growers in the states, busting the weed dealers here makes it appear like they're doing something, or that's my opinion on it anyway. 

We actually watched a bust go down while we were eating on the beach once, and literally involved military staging photos and taking pictures.  That day, they evidently had to dig the weed up to get to it, and there didn't seem to be anyone around to be arrested.  They took lots of pictures with the bag, which honestly may or may not have been planted. Needless to say, it was a joke.

My adventures have been amusing but they've also been frustrating as well.  As someone who depends on weed for daily comfort, it really is hard on me when I've got to go without, especially when I have the money to spend on it. I long for the day where the market becomes legal and changes drastically.  I'm not sure how or when it'll happen, but I figure it'll be better than the market we're dealing with here. Where people are too afraid to be involved because they're afraid of the government.

Mexico is in many ways known for marijuana.  Mexican's are actually credited by the US government to have brought weed to the US. It's a shame that things are the way they are here.  If Mexico were to legalize in the right way, it'd not only be a huge cash cow but so many lives would be saved and money would be saved NOT busting the beach weed sellers. 

And honestly these experiences aren't much different then moving to a new place back home.  There's always the sketchy process of finding the connection that you've got to deal with.  There are always those out in the open options like the beach, or that weed house in Detroit.  There are also private markets with better quality stuff, which does exist here. The quality is nothing like what I'm used to, but it's miles better than the sea weed. So it's not much different.  What makes it different is that I'm a pale gringa alone on the beach asking for weed in what's one of the most dangerous cities on the planet, according to mainstream news anyway. And that just makes it amusing, for all parties involved.  I know those guys get a kick out of me and I get a kick out of them.  

Thanks for reading. :)