Cannabis Chronicle 11: Bud in Bogota

Ok, babe, I’m no genius, but I’m pretty sure people aren’t up there drinking coffee. Let's just grab two beers and check it out.

Before I left for Colombia, I did my Googles and discovered that the La Candelaria area is where it’s at for cannabis in Bogota. Or should I say “La Cripa” as the locals do? My partner and I were going to be there for the weekend so I decided to do some investigating.


La Candelaria is a pretty dope part of the city even if you are not interested in cannabis. The architecture is beautiful and the streets are lined with colorful shops, hostels, and bars. Definitely a good backdrop for the gram’. Bae and I headed there for a traditional Colombian lunch at Fulanitos. The food is the bomb and they have a rooftop. I highly recommend hitting this spot if you have the munchies or if you are just looking for a good, traditional meal. We ate like jefes and had multiple shots of rum for a total of about $40 US dollars.


While at lunch I discovered that the head shop I wanted to check out, Ina Jah, was about ten minutes from the restaurant, so we decided to head in that direction. I wasn’t necessarily trying to score, but I am Reeferella – I had to at least slide through and peep the scene.


As we walked to the shop I noticed a number of young people milling about. A number of them had backpacks so I assumed that they had just come from the University not too far away. College and cannabis are like peanut butter and jelly, so I knew I was headed in the right direction. We found the small shop and checked out the items for sale. It was mostly apparel with cannabis leaves and other items adorned with the colors of the Rastafarian flag. There were some really cool shades in the display case that I wanted to cop, but much to my dismay they weren’t for sale.


There was a very nice woman behind the register that I assume owns the place. I noticed some rickety stairs leading up to what almost looked like an attic.


“Whats up there? Can we go?” I asked her.


Honestly, I wasn’t sure what the protocol was and I didn’t want to embarrass myself or say the wrong thing.


She smiled at me and replied “cafe”.


My Espanol is pretty pathetic, but I at least knew that meant coffee. Admittedly, I’m really not that great with cannabis transactions. I’m the clueless person that totally misses the innuendo and kind of waits for someone to tell me what to do or what the price is.


We stepped back into the shop area and kind of awkwardly hung around looking at the merch that we had just finished staring at. A young couple came in and approached the register. They bought two beers and headed up the raggedy steps.


“Ok babe, I’m no genius, but I’m pretty sure people aren’t up there drinking coffee. Let’s just grab two beers and check it out.”


We gave the owner 20,000 pesos (about 6 bucks) for our beers and carefully headed up. When we reached the top we entered a room with three groups of people drinking beers and breaking down cannabis. There was a flat screen on the wall playing Teen Titans. I was home.


We sat down and began chugging our beers. After a few minutes, we realized how lame we were for sitting there without a flake of ganja. We were just about to head out and go to the park to score when a guy across the room got my partner’s attention.


“Aye!” he said and held up a fat blunt. I almost shed a thug tear. We both nodded our heads in appreciation and hit the jay. It was definitely some fire. Way better quality than what we received in Cartagena. We tried to pass the blunt back, but he refused to take it. There were four of them and they already had three jays in rotation.


We wanted to chat and be friendly, but we knew that the odds of us understanding one another weren’t so great.


“Habla usted Ingles?” my partner asked the group.


They all laughed and shook their heads no. We just smiled and began damn-near bowing like we were in Asia like two dummies. One of the guys sitting closest to us spoke a little English and we began chatting.


Our conversation was enlightening and I wish I would have recorded it, but out of respect, I didn’t. He told us that if we walked a street over we could cop all types of edibles. He also told us that he was a student and he comes here to smoke and chill after his classes. We learned that if we wanted to cop some flower we could say “cafe” and the locals would know what we wanted. Now I get what my homegirl downstairs was trying to say to my silly-ass. He went on to tell us that cannabis use is pretty liberal in this particular area of La Candelaria, but not everywhere so be careful. When he asked where we were from of course the conversation shifted to Trump. He wanted to know why would Americans vote for him, and I had to break it to him that even we still didn’t fucking know.


The blunt that they passed us was huge and I was high as hell. Our new homie had also passed us a few shots of Colombian rum, so we were all the way in the zone. There was still almost half of a blunt left so we put it out and saved it for our pre-dinner treat. Cottonmouth was taking over so we headed out to grab some gelato.


We had to really take our time going down the stairs this time. The rum and tree were the perfect ingredients for a fresh serving of bust-your-ass.


My homegirl at the front smiled at us and waved. I did that weird smiling, bowing, Gracias-combo again.


Hasta la proxima vez, Bogota. 


En reefer confiamos,


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