I picked up my joint and latte and went to sit at the first booth by the bar, leaving James’ customary seat open for whenever he was free to join me. I could hear the rain begin to pound the pavement outside as I sparked up my joint full of Pot of Gold and I was glad I made it across town before the rain started.
Hitting the joint deeply while I slowly sipped my coffee I savored the mellow stoniness of the spicy indica. It started behind my eyeballs and rolled across my body, leaving everything in it’s wake heavy and warm. I felt like a lazy cat who had just stretched out in a particularly fine patch of sunshine. A smile crept across my face and my body swayed happily to the beat of the music.
Club Media's Pot of Gold
I pulled my battered copy of Walt Whitman out of my purse, where it had been since my last trip in early September. There is something about the plainspoken brashness with which Whitman celebrated himself and life and the human condition that keeps drawing me back.
51
The past and present wilt--I have fill'd them, emptied them.
And proceed to fill my next fold of the future.
Listener up there! what have you to confide to me?
Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening,
(Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute longer.)
Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)
Lost in reverie, I’m unsure how much time passed, but I was surveying my collection of hash and contemplating my next joint when my empty cup was whisked away and a fresh latte appeared in front of me. James worked his way around the shop, setting out clean ash trays and lighting candles while I idly ground up some cheese. The rain was still battering the pavement outside, and so the red votives added a sparkling warmth to the shop.
Basjoe's Cheese
When James made it back around I thanked him for the coffee with a bright smile.
He sat down across from me and sighed as he cracked open a bottle of water. He studied me as he took a deep sip. “You look like you’ve been on vacation. Rested. Good.” James said with a small smile.
“Oh, thanks.” I blushed a little. “You know this place is good for me. I really needed a vacation.”
“I need one too.” James picked up his lighter and lit the candle before he sparked his joint and leaned back.
“Are you still going on vacation this winter?”
“Ja, but that seems like a long time from now.” He took another hit of the joint and his eyes closed as he rolled the smoke around in his mouth. My nose tickled with the rich gouda and spicy rye smell. “This tastes good.” He waved the joint.
Media's Pot of Gold
“That’s the Pot of Gold?”
“Jaaa. Niiice.”
“The woman at Media said that it’s a hindu kush cross. I like it- rich and spicy. And stoney.”
James’ only reply was a smile, nod, and another hit. Then he chuckled. “I liked that other one too- you were right about it. What was it you said again?”
“Oh, yeah, the Silver Bubble. I said that it was a little rough and unsophisticated. Kind of like having sex with a teenage boy. Fun, but maybe lacking finesse.”
“Yeah.” James was laughing hard. “It was like that.”
I got more serious about rolling my next joint as James returned to smoking his. He openly watched me as I arranged the very crystally cheese on the paper. I was relieved that my rolling skills had improved considerably since that unfortunate time I almost lit myself on fire. I flipped through the hashes I had with me- some Flower and Pollen from De Graal as well as some other Pollems. It was a tough call, because ideally I wanted something somewhere in between the buzzy high of a pollem and the heavy hit I was expecting from the nearly black chunk of the flower.
“Wait.” I set the bags down and looked up as James pulled a bag of different hashes from his shirt pocket. He pinched off a lump of a rich cinnamon colored hash and passed it to me. “Try this- from Morocco. Royal Hash.”
Basjoe's Royal Hash
I automatically lifted the piece to my nose but could already smell the zesty smell of cardamom and cloves with a musky peppery backbone before I was half way there. “It smells like Morocco. Like the spices- nutmeg and ras el hanout."
“How do you know Moroccan spices?”
I told him about how I had learned to cook Moroccan food in Paris as I added luscious Moroccan hash to the bed of cheese. The chunk was still pliable from James’ body, so it broke easily into little pieces.
Basjoe's Cheese
It was rolled in a jiffy and we lapsed into companionable silence for a time as we both smoked. I savored the interplay between the rich oily cheese and rich flavor of warm spices from the hash.
“I liked the water.” James warm voice drew me out of the happy fog.
My eyes met his. “I’m so glad you liked it. Most people just think I’m strange when I try to explain it, but I’ve really never had anything like it anywhere. It comes down from the Alps so it’s full of minerals.”
“I sat down and tried it, and I tried the spa water, and the tap water. Side by side. This water tastes soo niiice. Great water.”
“Yay!” A huge grin split my face.
to be continued
Because life is too short to smoke bad bud.
well said Geeky
I, like a lot of people on here always thought James, and Leo to be two of the nicest people to be working in Amsterdam, where customer service isn't a priority for all, and in trying to be defensive, I ended up looking trollish. Im sure all can see that I havnt made many posts, even though I'm quite a long time member, its because I often open mouth and deposit foot!
