The dope improved markedly across the Yucatan Channel on the beaches of Quintana Roo. Fresh green, sticky buds, very potent. Highly aromatic with a sweet, almost fruity smell. Only a few little white seeds in the buds, a sure sign of freshness. You could squeeze the bud between your fingers and it would stick to your thumb due to the resins in the hairs. Nice. Little paper-wrapped packets of un-manicured buds, maybe 10 grams, would set you back 50 pesos (about $3) and keep you loaded for a week.
Each little beachside bar / café had it’s own dealer, usually a friend of the owner. A case in point was El Paraiso, one of the hipper joints on the beach at Tulum. A few minutes after ordering a Cerveza Montejo, the local brew, you’d be sitting out at a table by the beach. A cool looking dude would sit down.
“Amigo, welcome.” A little small talk, enough for both of us to check each other out. It didn’t take long to establish our bona fides. “Do you have enough weed?” “Sure what do you have?”
A packet would be passed under the table. “Anything better?” “Oh, Amigo, maybe this, but more expensive.” Another packet. “60 Pesos.” “Looks good but 60 is too much…how about 40?” “50.” The pesos passed back under the table. Big grins all around. You’d be all set for your beach holiday.
Weed was illegal, of course, but officials turned a blind eye if you were discrete. That went for travellers like myself and the local dealers. Nobody really cared if you got high or not. The upshot was that, for the rest of my time in Mexico, buying good dope at rock bottom prices was always easy, safe and very rewarding.