## *Documentary for educational purposes only.*
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Here we go again!
We board a flight from Amsterdam and in 9 hours we are in the Caribbean. After a layover of just a couple of hours on Curacao, we fly on to Jamaica. We land in Kingston around 11 am local time. The air is hot, but not too humid.
We have a 3 hours layover, so we decide to get out of the airport and go have lunch in Port Royal, half an hour away on the coast. It's a bit of a ghost-town, once a very rich merchant harbor, destroyed at the end of the seventeenth century by a powerful earthquake. It looks like it never really recovered…
We eat lunch in a small fish-restaurant, famous for its snapper. But I eat jerk chicken because I am picky with my fish, and the jerk-spices here are amazing!
Of course we drink some Red Stripe beers, and Simon and myself decide it's time to find some weed. It does not take long before we hit the jackpot: literally on the side of the local Police station, along the seaside, there are some barracks and shacks; inside a group of Rastas is busy cleaning and chopping weed and rolling it up in small balls, using rolling papers as containers.
We ask if we can buy some, and the guys are thrilled. It's cheap, less than 1 Euro per gram. But it's a bit bitter, very leafy, and we enjoy it just because it's been a while since we smoked in Amsterdam! Some of the Rastas in the back are smoking crack cocaine in a glass pipe, the smell is terribly sour. They ask if we like some, and we politely tell them we are just here for the ganja; they nod, and scream "Jah Rastafari"!

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