How can I carry her? It's getting dark. No reception. Fuck, this is bad...
San Cristobal de las Casas lays in a valley surrounded by verdant mountains, at a 2200m altitude. The sun is sharper and the dry, cold mountain air chills your bones at night. We had to wear proper clothes, no more walking around like Tarzan. It was a nice change from the tropics.
We ended up at the Iguana Hostel, waiting for Sofia to arrive. The Iguana was where Marco had met Emma only six months ago, good times. Sofia arrived in the afternoon. She was talkative, joyful and ecstatic to escape Paris' grey sky and long faces. We ate tacos, drank Bohemia and sunbathed in the terrace. Mexico... I've missed you.
Travelling in a group of three is to me the best setup. Decision-making and organization become easier. It also takes the pressure off. If one wants to be alone, the other two can hang out together. I wanted to get high. Jackie wanted to visit the surrounding mountains. Sofia wanted to get high and visiting the surrounding mountains.
In the evening I went on a mission. I stared at the first hippie selling jewellery on the streets, ans smiled. She moved her lips. I nodded. She pulled me aside and we started walking up a narrow street. Ten minutes later we were looking up a large wooden portal. She entered the code. The door opened.
We crossed through a rich bamboo garden and entered a fancy Japanese-decorated house. The hippie introduced me as the guy crossing the Americas in a van. A man was asking me about my trip when a hoarse woman's voice shouted from behind a sliding curtain screen. It was not Spanish. The guy left in a hurry.
He returned hugging a black trash bag too big for his arms, and used his thighs to swing it as he walked. He dropped the bag on the kitchen counter and poured the horn of plenty. The whole kitchen smelled. I had never seen so much weed... it starded at 20 pesos a gram.
I got a stash and asked for something else, something exotic. The woman yelled and the guy went behind the screen door again. He returned with a smaller sports bag and pulled out five plastic-sealed bags with stickers on them. I read the labels and picked a cherry flavoured Indica at ten times the price of the first one. The guy said that one will fly me back to Canada. We laughed and they wished me good luck on my trip. Mission accomplished.
The next day we planned to hike Arcotete, a canyon around San Cristobal. We packed water, snacks and Sofia rolled two joints. The cheap weed she mixed with tobacco. The cherry-flavoured one she rolled without.
We started the hike down around noon. One hour down the canyon, we followed a river deep into the woods, away from people. There were a few large stones on which we hopped for a break. Time to get spiritual.
Sofia and I smoked while Jackie explored the area. The weed was tasteless but still, it gave us a good buzz. We found ourselves laying on the rocks, uncomfortable but too high to move. Jackie returned with her usual cheerfulness. I collected myself and followed the girls. The walk got suddenly richer. The light piercing through the branches, the infinite shades of green, the soothing sound of the river. Aaaaaah marijuana...
Moments later, we stopped for a picnic. We found another secluded spot for our spiritual ritual and laid down a towel. The three of us squeezed in the grass and took out the supplies. Sofia cracked the second joint and started coughing: “ Putain!”.
“It must be the cherry” I said, mocking her. I took a cautious, short hit. The weed was strong indeed, and had a sweet flavor to it. Sofia was drying her tears when Jackie asked me for a drag. She had smoked before, it was alright she said. I felt awkward and glimpsed at Sofia for approval. She nodded. I passed the joint.
Jackie took one long drag and closed her eyes. Then the joint slipped from her fingers and her hand fell on the grass like an inanimate puppet. “Jackie? You're okay!?” She didn't answer. Her head tilted to the side, then she collapsed.