Chapter 5 Exploring drugs
Back in Cartagena, I came upon a surprising scenario. Many of the boys that had attacked and tortured me years earlier were now wearing bell bottoms themselves! I found a different climate, a new scene, one that did not attack me for my image but instead accepted and embraced me – with much admiration.
There was another aspect of Cartagena that now made it attractive. Pot. Everyone I knew was smoking marijuana. Mother observed us reluctantly until her suspicions were confirmed. She walked in our room and found Kiko and me smoking a joint. Not knowing quite how to react, she scowled and left.
We craved the weed, which had been impossible to get in Poland. At school everyone was smoking ‘grass’ and getting high. We even met around the corner, at 6:45 AM, and smoked joints before our first class, at 7 AM. I sat in class, stoned and lazy, and dozed through the typical torpor of the tropical day…