Velvet

Ontario gov't seems at fault as far as the diamond mine goes.

Turns out DeBeers pays lots and lots of rent and tax for their mine but the gov't returns zero of that money back to the community. Non-native communities get a percentage of this kind of money but native communities are under some special clause where the province doesn't have to give them any of it, so they don't.

Crazy that they are sitting on Ontario's only diamond mine.

If you get there a half hour before it starts, you should have plenty of time to grab beers and get sorted before show time.

You mean "sordid".

Willin' (breakdown)

I'm supposed to start the song with a four-bar solo and Doug tells me, "take another one". Again and again he tells me to keeps soloing. I'm thinking, "wow, I must be on fire."

Turns out the bastard had forgotten the lyrics.

Hard Livin' is by Justin Townes Earle.

We got two more Tuesdays until Steve Marriner comes back (although accidents do happen, don't they?). Doug and I are having a blast, hope to see a few of you out.

So the show was two hours long?

Good ole Bradm.

Might even have some Ween fer ya tonight.

sigh

Strength to you Basher.

Memories are the palette of immortality.

Day V

We were surprised to find Voyagers still closed when we walked by this morning. No doubt they are recovering from last night's concert, and we're sure to see them soon so we wandered over to 420 cafe to start the day.

We found our old spot in the window and spent an hour letting the day settle in. It was around noon when we got moving, idling around the corner to wait for the expo shuttle.

I swear that bus is about the most concentrated blazebox in the city. No sooner are the seats filled when dozens of huge spliffs are lit with dozens more being rolled. Everybody arrives at the conference pretty chill.

Inside the atmosphere was much more subdued than previous visits. It seems yesterday's raid was keeping some people away, the crowd was cut almost in half, and this on the final voting day of the competition. This was the first time I could see from one side of the room to the other, there was so little smoke in the room.

If you looked close you could see that some booths were still offering up free vapor samples, but the free-for-all feeling that we had gotten previously was gone due in no small part to yesterday's police action. There were some notable empty booths as well; BC Buds, Norcal Seeds, and Hitman Glass were among the few tables that didn't reopen today.

We grabbed some beers and took a seat in time for a seminar on marijuana globalisation. It was a good presentation that was liberally peppered with references to Wednesday's police raid. Midway through the talk the PA cut in with an interruption. “We have received information that the police may be returning to Borchland.†Again, I went cold.

There's that old fear again, that nagging little zing that reminds you that having a good time has it's risks. You got to keep an eye out and be careful. And it's exactly those feelings that we mean to leave behind when we visit Amsterdam. We immediately got off our asses so we could vote and get the hell out of there.

The voting area was busy, and with good reason. For many, the main benefit of obtaining a pass for the Cannabis Cup is the honor of voting for what will reign as the best marijuana strain in the world for the next year. It's a heady responsibility and the main point of attending the Cup.

There were six categories we could mark our X in. Best booth, best new product, best glass, best import hash, best Nederhash, and best weed. The most popular booths were the ones pumping out the nine-foot volcano bags of vaporized pot, so I voted Barneys (the beer garden didn't count as a booth). For best new product I voted for Smashtrays, a rubberized ashtray that won't break your bowl when you clean out the ashes. The guy at the booth had a lot of energy and sold out of nearly all his stock.

Best glass was a no-brainer with the obvious choice going to the amazingly elaborate machine gun bowl-fantastico. I voted Liberty Melt for the Nederhash and Moroc for the import, and then it was down to the biggie. Best Picture. And my vote for the greatest pot in the world was...

...unsure. There was so much to take in, so much to smoke. Does one pick on flavour or stone or combo? Of course the stuff you sample earlier in the day will work differently (better) than the rest, and was it suspect that I was preferring mainly strains I tried earlier in the week? There's no set criteria to work from, so it's every judge for himself to pick how to pick.

One thing's for sure, it's basically impossible to judge the Cannabis Cup fairly. With 31 strains entered in the pot category alone one can hardly be expected to purchase and try every entry with a fair and balanced brain. And it's pricey too, a gram of Cup weed usually runs from twelve to fifteen Euros ($17-$21) and what are you going to do with 31 half bags when it's time to fly home? The fact that some coffeeshops hand out free samples is likely to skew things a bit as well, filling a judges pockets with free bud diminishes the possibility that they'll try the competition. If every entry was lined up offering up volcano bags side-by-side it would be easier to judge, but such is not our charge.

After three trips to the expo visiting every booth and scouring around town checking out about fifteen coffeeshops and smoking just a mad, mad amount of weed, I decided to vote for the pot being pumped out of our local little spot, the Kosher Kush available at Voyagers. It's a tasty indica with a nice aftertaste and a strong buzz and even though we tried it the first day it still cut through the haze when we tried some later in the week.

I filled in my little boxes and handed the pen to Carstairs. He copied almost all my picks the bastard, but after all it was his pen.

Our judges lanyards were numbered and your anonymous ballot required your judge number. The pollster accepted my ballot and stamped a hole through the number in my pass. Seems pretty fair.

We bee-lined it to the door ahead of any potential policing and got on the canni-bus for the last time. Joints were smoked, idle chat went back and forth, but the scene had shifted. Perhaps we were all getting tired after a trying week, but I don't think I'm the only one that's felt a bubble burst. Though there wasn't an officer in sight, the police presence could be felt.

Carstairs and I went back to the hotel to attend to some business and prime up on minibar. Back on the bricks we were further dismayed to see that Voyagers was still closed, still ominously hanging the same “Gone to Milkweg†sign in the window.

We started at 420 cafe and made a feeble attempt at working our way towards the Hash and Hemp Museum. We hit the Bulldog along the way, got to the museum and decided against it, and after a tasty chain burger at Chipsy King we found ourselves back at Carstairs' old spot, Ricks.

It was beers and roll-yer-owns as we tried to tie one on in preparation for the final Cannabis Cup event. We eventually rolled up to my old joint Rookies, where the coffee stopped my drunken slide in it's tracks. We rolled a few for the show and walked over to the Milkweg. We got in just in time to get a beer at the back (the side bar was closed) and find a spot on the floor when they started handing out awards.

The room was much sparser than Tuesday's B-Real show and decorated with lots of NO SMOKING signs. As the awards were being handed out there was a scuffle behind me. I turned around and saw three men standing around a freshly lit joint smoldering on the floor, the three of them shrugging their shoulders as a security guard put her arm on one guy and called for reinforcement. Just like back home. I turned back to the stage.

The awards ceremony was loose but moved along well, much to the credit of MC Dan Skye. DJ Logic supplied the unremarkable music as presenters came and went and a rotating cast came onstage to accept first, second, and third place medals in each category.

There was an undeniable link between the major advertisers and the winners, and it seemed Big Buddha, Barney's, or Green Place were up there for almost everything. There were several categories that were voted on by only an elite group of growers, plus a couple of Special Achievement-type awards.

The winners:

Best Booth: Barneys Farm (Barneys)

Best New Product: Grinder Card (Green House)

Neiderhash Cup: Liberty Melt (Barneys)

Import Hash Cup: Exodus Cream Cheese (Green House)

Seed Co. Hash Cup: Tahoe OG Kush Wax (Cali Connection)

Seed. Co. Hybrid Cup: Holy Grail Kush (DNA Genetics/Reserva Privada Colorado)

Sativa Cup: Moonshine Haze (Rare Dankness Seed Co.)

Indica Cup: Kosher Kush (Reserva Privada Colorado)

Cannabis Cup: Liberty Haze (Barneys)

So there it is friends, the best pot in the world you'll find this year is a sativa called Liberty Haze. Get some in your lungs and you may just feel a piece of what we've been at all week.

As soon as the ceremony ended the place cleared out, there was no party to be had. With no smoking in the room nobody wanted to stick around anyway. We went back to Rookies to smoke the joints we had rolled there earlier and soon found ourselves at a cool live music bar called Waterhole where a five piece band was tearing up Rage and Nirvana tunes to a sweaty crowd. We knew there was little hope in us getting drunk enough to truly regret it so we bade the place leave and stumbled to Dampkring for a nightcap.

Okay the real nightcap came back in the hotel room as we cleared out the minibar for the last time. In honor of the Liberty Melt win I rolled my remaining free sample into a single phatty and ran a bath. We enjoyed our last night at the Grand Amrath in decadent style and slept one more night on their marshmallow pillows.

The Cup was a great time and an event very worthy of checking out, but saving a day to decompress afterwords is highly (ha!) recommended.

Day IV

It was a hard wake up today, this city can really get under one's skin. We had a bit of a day ahead of us so we tried not to dally too long, though there were certainly some coffee shop stops in there.

Our first major mission was to take in the Van Gogh museum. Not only is it a great opportunity to see a vast collection by one of the modern masters, it offers a good travel story for the less heady folks back home.

We hopped a tram for the first time and we found Amsterdam's ubiquitous urban rail system comfortable, simple, and remarkably efficient.

We pre-bought our tickets at the hotel and strolled right into the museum. The four-storey structure offers an open forum for patrons to stroll by an admirable collection of Vincent's work. The information panels provide a glimpse into the stunning life of the hardest working man in the art business, and while one meanders by piece after piece of cartoonish brilliance it becomes harder and harder to believe this guy never sold a single thing. The movement he could imply from a blast of colored pellets is still unmatched. Even having a loving brother that was one of Europe's biggest art dealers couldn't get him no satisfaction, and a couple of bullets to the chest brought it all to a close. What a story, what a man, what an artist.

We decompressed at the Bulldog with a snack a beer and a smoke and window shopped our way downtown. I picked up a cool Euro-style bike lock and Carstairs found some souvenirs for his kids. We found ourselves at 420 coffeeshop where the vibe is oak-paneled relaxed and the music is 60's heady and FZ. It's the first place I've found that plays exactly the music I'm hoping to hear, where the standard coffeeshop plays strictly rap and hip-hop.

We went back to Burgerbar for dinner, opting for the upscale wagyu beef patty. It was a disappointment compared to last time, and greatly undercooked. Looking at the time we realised we were under the gun to get to the expo in time for the daily 4:20 ceremony so we gave it a pass and headed to the hotel.

During the requisite stop at Voyagers we heard the expo had been raided, just at the time we were intending to be there. It was sobering news so we sat down to get unsober again and try and pick up what details we could.

It seems dozens of police entered the convention hall and rounded everyone up, seizing pot at the exhibitor booths and searching the pockets of all attendees, confiscating any and all drugs they found. The word is this action was taken in retaliation of yesterday's Dab-athon fiasco, where authorities had shut down the event's oil-smoking competition, hash oil being a controlled drug in The Netherlands. The dabbers just shrugged off the warning and took their contest to the aisles, offering up oil samples to judges throughout the afternoon, to the ire of the watching police.

The employees at Voyagers saw the bust as a pretty bad development, while the buzz around the coffeeshop tables was mainly of bewilderment. We come to Amsterdam not just to smoke pot, as it is a plant readily available in most places in the world. We come here to smoke it with a sense of freedom and the raid was a sharp reminder that freedom still eludes us, even here in The Netherlands. Marijuana is still and always has been illegal here in Amsterdam, and though the tolerance of it's use and sale is prominent and well-known, it is still just tolerance, and the authorities are free to decide when to tolerate it when not to.

There was talk that the Dilated Peoples show at Milkweg may be raided tonight, and the shopkeeps seemed confident that at least some coffeeshops would be visited by authorities, though we were assured that it was a fairly common occurrence and the patrons were generally ignored, with the police more interested in making sure the coffee shop doesn't exceed it's 500g limit of smoke on hand.

I checked the computer back at the hotel and High Times had sent out an email to judges informing us that the evening;s concert was indeed on as scheduled, and a contingency plan was in place for voting should the expo no longer be available. As I've come to expect with all things Cannabis Cup, the official response was swift and informative.

Walking out of the hotel my heart went cold as I saw Voyagers was closed up tight. Maybe this was worse than I thought. I walked up to the door where a sign said they were at Milkweg. Of course. It's a small place and they sell the featured bud from DNA Genetics, the hosts of tonight's party. Whew.

We ended up sticking to the downtown area and whiling the evening away at a few coffeeshops, starting with beers and smokes and snacks at Barneys where Derry the owner made an announcement that the expo would be running as usual the next day. We eventually staggered back to 420 cafe where we sat in the window trying to empty our pockets the best we could until the joint closed on us.

We bee-lined back to the hotel as best we could in a city impeded by curved streets, canals, bridges, and a red light district.

We closed out the minibar and took advantage of our new in-room smoking privileges and when I laid my head down to rest I went out so fast you'd swear an anesthesiologist was hovering over me.

Day III

Another extended sleep had me pretty caught up when I hit the button to open the curtains this morning. I made a coffee in the machine and enjoyed a powerful shower.

We're checked into a five star place downtown called the Grand Amrath. It's a Gothic building with admirable brickwork that looms over the water just around the corner from central station. The rooms are modern with eighteen-foot ceilings and floor-to-roof windows, the bathroom has a frosted glass door, a giant tub and ultra-modern fixtures. The restocked minibar is included with the room, and they do a fair job of it too. It's quite frankly one of the nicest rooms I've stayed in, and we're here all week.

Spent the first couple of hours of the day around the bend at Voyagers coffee shop chasing the cobwebs from my brain and putting them right back in. In the early afternoon Carstairs and I headed along the main drag to Central Station and caught the shuttle bus the the Cannabis Cup expo to catch a seminar and make another round of the booths.

The bus was very, very smoky. It's amazing just how much marijuana can be consumed in such a short amount of time and by such a diverse group of people. Tell you, these kids can roll a pretty mean joint. Looking around nobody even seemed that high. There's absolutely no way the bus driver isn't on at least a major contact high, but just like always we got where we were going just fine.

There was supposed to be a Dab-athon hash oil Olympics but it had been canceled. I saw a few people getting smoke-bomb hits in the crowd while DNA Genetics hosted a growers seminar on the stage. The presentation was informal and deeply informative, a Q&A that was at times baffling and at others quite enlightening. These growers develop some of the most enviable marijuana strains in the world, including one of this year's early Cannabis Cup favourites, Kosher Kush, and Cup attendees were having a field day at the microphone gleaning any insider information they could get.

We wandered around and grabbed a nasty burger and a few beers, but with the booths already well-explored we soon found ourselves back on the bus downtown. A quick stab into the minibar back at the hotel and we headed very slowly towards the evening's show at the Melkweg, with about three hours to kill.

We started at Green Place (the reader should imply a requisite stop at Voyagers on our way to and from anything) where we ran into another mother/son combo here for the Cannabis Cup, this time from northern Alberta. We swapped samples and made Cup talk; you meet nice folks here.

We decided to hit a few more places before the show, and after stopping for a splendid chicken shawarma (my first non-burger food since arriving in Amsterdam) we found Rookies, my old haunt from my last trip to the 'Dam.

Rookies isn't entered in the cup so we just stayed for a quick nostalgia joint for my benefit. It was as I remembered it; roomy and relaxed with some good chill music. I see why I liked the place.

We checked out a few more Cup shops, Rokerij and Dolphins, and poked our heads into a couple of others that weren't so inviting. After a good rest at Dolphins we found the Melkweg and filed in for the night's free concert, B-Real from Cypress Hill.

The show was late in starting (of course), and while the crowd waited they were treated to a film touting the many joys and splendors of Mary Jane. We grabbed some beers and sat outside the main room to smoke joints and wait for the show. We found ourselves next to our motorcycle enthusiast friend from yesterday's breakfast, found some quick common ground and killed the wait quite effectively. When the show started it was handshakes and farewells, and a fight back to the bar area.

We got some more beers and tried to enjoy B-Real from the discomfort of our perch from the bar. That proved impossible and spotting a couple of staff members from Voyagers partying nearby we joined them on the floor. It was much more comfortable and a fine spot to watch the show from.

Though B. Real isn't really my thing I gotta say he was kickin' it out. Even a Deadhead like myself recognised the best of his Cypress Hill material, like I Wanna Get High, Lick A Shot, and the crowd-pumping Hits From The Bong. The gun-centric show was tight and aggressive, with a fine dj display mid-show and a crowd in constant puff-mode.

By the time B. Real closed his set with Insane In The Brain even I wanted to pop a cap in someone's ass. Whether or not that had anything to do with our eventual stumble home through the red light district is anybody's guess. The lights in the Milkweg went up and hundreds of us finished up beers and phatties and spilled out into the mild Amsterdam evening.

With a nod to our earlier sojourn to Rookies, we wandered into the place Carstairs whiled away most of his time when he last visited the city almost two decades ago, a cozy spot called Ricks. We got a couple of beers and hit the smoking room where we met an Irish couple who were killing the evening after missing their flight. We managed to share a joint or two before the place closed down on us.

On the way back to the hotel we found ourselves on the cusp of the red light district. Another of the very unique attractions Amsterdam has to offer, and one I'm wholly uninterested in, there is no denying the fascination of seeing prostitution happen before your very eyes..

Sex is on sale in every window, a 3/8†pane of glass separating a gawking parade of tourists from one nearly naked woman after another. Stop for an instant and a fake nail will tap on the glass trying to lure you in while the other hand holds a cell phone to a lipsticked mouth simultaneously engaged in phone sex. Primal urge for a price and they are busy. I saw more than one door open to welcome or eject a patron, and many other windows with the curtains drawn.

Whatever turns your crank.

We left the human zoo and found our way safely home. We sat finishing off the minibar and lamenting our decision to not smoke in the room. When we had checked in there were only nonsmoking rooms available, but we called down the next day to see if a smoker had opened up. We figured hash would be okay in a room that allows tobacco and were disappointed to find that a transfer would require an upgrade, an extra 50 euros a day.

“Hold on,†the lady says. “Let's see if the windows in your room open, and then you can smoke. Yes, I see they open, but they are too tall and the concierge would have to come with a stick to open it and close it when you are done. Should I call the concierge?â€

We opted for not, thinking it too problematic and resigned ourselves to not smoke in the room. But here it was 2am and drunk. We noticed people smoking on the balcony across the way out the windows and got rolling. The door at the end of the hall said “Emergency Only†but I was drunk enough to try it and nothing happened so we hit it and lit it.

Holding the door open I felt an air pressure change indicating someone had entered our hallway. Here came the concierge, explaining that the alarm was going off downstairs. We explained our difficulty and bless his heart, at two AM he went and got the stick. Try as he might he couldn't get the old windows open, but shrugging he said we could smoke in here if we wanted, if we didn't mind the smell of our own smoke.

“The smell of weed takes about a day to go away...†he said out of the blue. “We're here until Friday!†Carstairs and I sang in unison. “Well then there's no problem,†said the world's greatest five star concierge. “And don't worry about the smoke alarm, it won't go off. Goodnight.â€

And a good night it was. And late.

Thanks everyone, but no vibes needed. We're just in from another round at the shops and we have our feet up sucking on minibar.

There was an announcement by Derry, owner of Barney's when we were in his establishment tonight, and he said the cops had "wavered" and the expo would be open as usual tomorrow.

So far the vibe among attendees seemd to be mainly shock and surprise, though it's the cafe workers I've talked to who seem to be the direst. They think this is really bad.

I've heard the suggestion that tonight's concert might get raided, and individual shops as well. It's not entirely uncommon for shops to get raided, and the cops generally leave the patrons alone, but we'll see.

The Cannabis Cup was raided at approximately 4:20 this afternoon as police stormed the Borchland conference centre in Amsterdam, rounding up attendees and vendors alike.

Nearing the end of the fourth day of the 24th annual marijuana exposition police entered the busy conference hall and told all attending “judges†to leave the building. On the way out, conference-goers found a police search waiting at the door.

According to a witness, he and his companions were near the front of a very long line of people trying to leave the event. All were being rigorously searched, and all drugs were being confiscated. Though he didn't see anyone actually arrested, the man said he witnessed the police going from booth to to booth with a marked map.

Yesterday's exposition was to include Dab-athon, an onstage hash-oil competition. The cops had shut down that event, as oil is classified a hard drug in The Netherlands, on par with cocaine. The enthusiasts carried out their competition offstage despite the police warning, and speculation is that today's bust is mainly a search for oil, and perhaps an opportunity to punish the Cup organizers for not heeding police intervention on Tuesday.

Thursday is the final voting day of the Cannabis Cup, and it is unclear what impact today's raid will have on the rest of the exposition.

Day II

It was so hard to drag myself out of my comfy little hovel at noon, I could have used at least five more hours of sweet, nourishing sleep. We got primed at Voyagers where we ran into Charlie and Dave again before headed out on foot through this beautiful water-centric city.

Over the canals and along the curved winding streets we went, passing an endless stream of picturesque architecture and cobbled bridges and in no time at all we were on the other side of the train station.

We found Barneys, a trio of establishments that sell food, pot, and beer/seeds respectively. We opted for all of it, starting with a fine lunch in Barneys restaurant. No drugs are for sale there, though the bartenders come around with bags full of vaporized Liberty Haze, Barneys' official entry in this year's Cup. Patrons are allowed to smoke their own and did heartily while a dj mixed live in the corner.

We found ourselves next to a mother and son here together from Miami. They are in town for the Cannabis Cup and having a great time together. When they left a motorcycle enthusiast from Ohio took their seat. Chit-chat flows easily from table to table, as the smoke and the smell of blue cheeseburgers christens the air.

After lunch we waited in line for our freebies at the Barneys coffee shop across the street. The very enthusiastic and informative attendant presented us both with our free judges samples, including a nice baggy of Liberty Haze and a fair chunk of tasty hash (17%), and a third bag that he actually warned us about. 70% thc content isolator hash that normally sells for 45 euros a gram. Be careful!

Pockets full we went next door to Barneys seed store where we had a beer and got some free swag, a t-shirt and I don't know what else. Down the street at Green House was the same thing, pockets full of free samples for Cannabis Cup judges and a swag bag.

We made the round and grabbed free and discounted stuff at a half dozen or so places, including being ushered to the front of a packed bar for our judges samples at Grey Area. The coffeeshops are jammed with judges and regular clientele alike, and the whole town seems to been hummin'.

The afternoon was spent bouncing from one coffeeshop to another, sampling wares, absorbing decors and meeting like-minded people. I find the music surprisingly undiverse, hip-hop and rap being the standard at pretty much every place we stopped into. I notice a dearth of hippy-type people as well, so it may be no surprise that there aren't any places playing the Dead or the Allmans. The crowd is mostly young and homey, but everyone seems friendly enough.

We went back to Green House for a late burger supper (yes, all I've had is burgers so far), and they were dee-dee-licious. There was probably another coffee shop stop in there before we closed down our local favourite joint Voyagers, which shuts it's doors at midnite, and after a dozen hours prowling Amsterdam's infamous dens of inequity we were back at the hotel inequiting the minibar.

Amazing that they keep refilling it every day.

Day I

Never was a more arduous journey endured with such simpatico, nor with such fine rewards.

We started on a bus, beers cracked before we left the parking lot and delicious brownies to keep us talking along the way. In no time we got to Montreal and found our flight cancelled. I helped pass the three and-a-half hour wait in line by pulling out my mandolin for a little Bach and roll. We got redirected to a flight we had to run for, but I redirected myself through the duty-free in a mad dash for Canadian Club.

Got the last two seats upstairs on a 747 to Paris where we our connecting flight was running two hours late. We finally descended into a city shrouded in fog six hours after our scheduled arrival. Tired and famished, we were finally in Amsterdam. My bag didn't make it, but I smiled at the lady all rainbows and unicorns as she explained my bag had been found and would be delivered to my hotel as soon as possible.

Amsterdam.

On the train into the city centre we stopped at a platform and Carstairs and I wondered if this was indeed Central Station. I didn't look like we remembered it but it we heard them say Central Something... We discussed the possibility of getting off the train when a guy in front of us sprang up like a maniac and flew out the door. He had obviously been wondering what we were wondering, or so we thought. We stayed put and a moment later the runner came back on the train, yelling “That guy took my bag,†gesturing outside. Bummer of a start to a vacation.

Mindful of what bags we had, we got to our stop and walked about 800 metres to our hotel. Our room needed ten minutes but that was time we just didn't have. We left our gear with the concierge and ran through the foggy streets to the closest coffee shop we could find, a friendly little place called Voyagers.

The place was abuzz with talk of the Cannabis Cup, the 24th annual exposition and competition of all things pot. Local coffee shops and seed companies enter their best strains to be judged by a phalanx of marijuana enthusiasts that come from around the world to vote for the planets best weed.

Voyagers' entry this year is Kosher Kush, so we bought some of that (18 Euros a gram, 15 Euros for judges), some Skywalker OG, a couple of pre-rolls and a coffee. Carstairs had a Coke.

We got rocked. The Skywalker seemed especially potent, though our exhaustion and hunger made us vulnerable. We stopped for a quick and terrible slice of pizza that even our starvation couldn't help us finish, and checked in to the hotel. Stuck with only the clothes I traveled in there was not much to do but have a drink and boot it to the Cup.

Just down the street is the Victoria hotel, where a free (in more ways than one) shuttle runs from the city's core to the Borchland, home of this year's Cannabis Cup.

We registered in a jiffy and got our judges pass. Unfortunately I didn't get any special media credentials; I guess I'll have to create my own all-access.

We got our passes stamped and received our goodie bags and spent the next few hours meandering the expo.

The large tin-roofed conference room was just as foggy as the streets outside. About forty booths advertised their wares and handed out swag under a constant smoky haze. There were growing supplies, seed companies, t-shirts, medical awareness, papers, and bongs, oh the bongs. Several coffee shops had booths offering vaporized samples of their entries in this year's competition. Squeezing deliciously intoxicating fumes from nine foot turkey bag tubes into the mouths of a waiting crowd, these booths were particularly popular.

The beer lines were empty, the munchy line packed. We drank beers and sucked on bags to stave off our hunger and stuffed our goodie bags with freebies for about three hours waiting for the evening's entertainment to start. Rapper B.O.B. spent a ridiculous amount of time soundchecking and when he started pointing the mic at the monitors I had to get out of there. We smoked a joint outside and hopped the canni-bus shuttle back downtown.

That was easy. Say what you want about pot smokers and organisation, but so far everything about the Cannabis Cup is going smooth like pot-butter. The bus comes often and moves fast, check-in was a breeze and the expo itself is total pro. There were tons of people there and every booth I stopped at had informative, talkative reps. I'm all around impressed.

We quickly settled into a can't-walk-by policy with regards to Voyagers coffee shop. We stopped in on the way to the hotel, found my bag hadn't arrived yet, and stopped in again on our way back out of the hotel.

We met a couple of Brits, Charlie and Dave, regular Cup attendees and nice guys. They gave us the low down on where to get what and a good burger recommendation taboot. An indeterminate amount of time later we bade our new friends farewell, searching for the Green House coffee shop/restaurant for dinner, a spot Carstairs was looking forward to trying.

We finally found the place, but it was one of three Green House places, and not one that served food. We shrugged our hungry shoulders and set off for the spot Charlie had told us about, Burgerbar.

That we were utterly famished by the time we tore into our food should not diminish the validity of my opinion of my dinner; I am, after all, on a worldwide non-competitive search for the planet's best cheeseburger. This was one mighty, mighty meat sandwich. I had the Irish beef version, with blue cheese, and friends, that burger may be what I remember the most fondly from my grand and extended first day in Amsterdam, 2011. Every bite felt like angels licking my soul.

Good fries too. Crispy.

We were close to Prix d'Ami, the self-proclaimed world's largest coffee shop. It wasn't that big, though multi-storied, with a very steel and sterile décor. It's the only place I've seen with a doorman. We bought a bunch of strains, Big Buddha Cheese, AMG, Dr. Grinspoon, and their hash entry which we sat down and enjoyed at a table near the door.

The atmosphere was lacking so we made our time short at Prix, meandering along the misty canals and slippery bricked alleys back to our looming gothic hotel. Through the ancient circular door and up the marble staircase, we found our room despite the labyrinth of hallways and tore into the minibar like mad fiends. My suitcase has not yet arrived.

Drunk and happy, with bags and bags of the city's best pot on the table and bellies churning quality proteins, we lay down for sleep after a great day that had lasted about 36 hours. Visions of the coming six days danced in my head for about ten seconds before I fell into a twelve hour coma.

Yep. And cozy slippers.

Certainly worth a try.

Amsterdam.

A world class city that boasts some of the world's most awe-inspiring collections of art, from the Rijksmuseum stocked full of Rembrandts to the astounding collection housed in the Van Gogh museum, and of course home to Anne Frank Haus, former hiding spot of history's most beloved teen author and tragic hero. Sunflowers, tulips, windmills and wooden shoes.

Amsterdam.

The go-to city for sin-as-sport, with a red light district that dates back centuries and world-famous for its liberal attitude towards marijuana and its derivatives, Amsterdam has long been a stop of choice among the choicest of travelers. Classier than Vegas, subtler than Bangkok, almost as sexy as Rio, Amsterdam is a safe, clean and enlightened minitropolis ringed with canals and bicycle paths that lead past some very odd storefronts.

Amsterdam.

A city rife with tourists and local controversy, recent governments have struggled with the city's unique trades, which tend to cater mostly to out-of-towners. Debate is hearty while sex and smoke shops that find themselves too close to public schools are quietly forced to close down and a new national law banning drug sales to non-residents undergoes sporadic implementation. Some claim the vice trade brings violence and a bad name upon The Netherlands while others see the city as a shining example of sensibility and freedom in a world that prefers to keep historical blinders firmly in place. Either way, politics has re-opened a debate that had been long decided, and Amsterdam currently finds itself on the verge of rejoining the rest of the west in the race towards arcane policies.

Amsterdam.

Host city of the Cannabis Cup for 24 years running. The world's preeminent annual marijuana festival, the Cannabis Cup is an exposition for all things pot. Concerts, seminars, workshops, booths stocked with the latest paraphernalia, and all of it dedicated to the little weed that could. Presented by the good folks at High Times, the Cup is billed as the bucket-list event for ganja enthusiasts and given the questionable climate of Holland's pot laws of late there are rumblings that this might be the Cup's final year.

Amsterdam.

My home for the next week. Armed with both a media pass and a judges pass for this year's Cannabis Cup I've booked myself and my photographer (a man I'll refer to herewith as Carstairs) into a swank five star hotel in the city's core. Upper-level debauchery and wanton disregard for personal well being is high on the menu for the next seven days, as is a near-constant sampling of the world's greatest strains of marijuana in search of this year's winner. We'll be hitting the seminars and the parties, the concerts and the museums, and voting for the best marijuana on planet Earth.

As always I will be writing down all I can remember. Check this space daily.

Amsterdam.

I'll be away for the holidays but should be back in town by the 30th.

If I can be there I'll be happy to join you for a tune or two. I should bring a guitar?

Bradm is correct: I won't be there next week, but the three weeks following I'm in, and we will be trying to learn about five new songs a week. No guarantee we'll succeed, but that's the plan.

What a nice lady your sister is. You must have good parents.

Stangely, we are. Though we don't tell anyone.

Last night was a lot of fun. It was really, really good to see a bunch of people out. Thanks so very much to the folks from the board who came.

Even Hart made it by proxy. Banished to the dark continent he sent his sister in his stead.

I'd love a bump for tonight's show!

Only real negative thing I can say is that Johnny B. Good is about the least impressionable song one could ever choose for an encore in my mind. I've seen them close twice with that, and meh.

Otherwise I wish the music wouldn't stop.

I was soooooo craving a Johnny B. Goode encore in Amherst. Given that we saw Chuck Berry the night before it would've been just perfect.

Agreed though that under normal circumstances it's not the most exciting encore.