How I got weed in Marseille for the first time
I arrived in Marseille in early December. I was coming for a 3 months trip through the fields of southern France, following the Dordogne river from Bordeaux to Bergerac, and the Midi channel from Toulouse to the Mediterranean Sea.
In those 90 days I didn’t smoke even one joint. I left Spain with the idea of quitting cannabis, cigarettes and others kind of smokes that I was using a lot. I needed to travel, to walk, to change the environment, to breathe fresh air, to clear my thoughts…
At the beginning it was easy. From September to November, I lived and worked in the countryside, far away from the noise and the smoke of the city. In this place, surrounded by vineyards and oak forests, my soul was filled with clean energy and my head forgot about drugs and alcohol.
Nevertheless, when I entered Marseille, I had a flashback. The dirt, the smoke, the noise of the cars, the people living in the streets, the smell of fast food, the cigarettes butts scattered on the floor, everything made me feel like consuming again.
In a few days, my desire went stronger until it became a priority. I asked Yuri, the Italian guy that was hosting me, if he knew a way to get some weed.
— We need to go to the northern neighbourhoods — he said.
The northern neighbourhoods in Marseille are known as the hot spot in the city. Most of the population live there: thousands of families, mothers, fathers, sons, grandparents, workers, employees, Frenchs, Arabs, immigrants from Italy, Spain, Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, Senegal, Congo… millions of people that make the most populous area of Marseille’s suburbs.
— Can we go right now? — I asked a little anxious.
— Now they’re sleeping — said Yuri looking at his watch. — Dealers never work in the morning.
— How much is it?
— It depends. Do you want buds or hashish?
— Buds.
— The small bag is €20, the big one €50.
We decided to go the next day at 17 o’clock. At this time we would find what we were looking for.
We took the subway at Cinq Avenues station in the direction to La Rose, and we stopped in Frais Vallon, located in the 13th district of Marseille, just before the end of the line.
We headed to the right through a gallery occupied by merchants who offered cheap items as toys, clothing and other goods at low prices. After the gallery we passed over a local pool, turned to the left and went up a wide avenue fenced by multi-story concrete blocks.
It was around 18 hours, the night was dark and cold. As we walked up the Frais Vallon Avenue, I thought it might be a good idea to set up the money before we arrived to the place, so I took a 20 euro bill from my wallet and placed it into my right pocket.
At this very moment, a guy that I haven’t seen approached quickly and stood next to me. The man was skinny, dressed in black and looked suspicious.
— Are you from here? — the guy asked.
— No — Yuri answered briefly.
— You know if they still sell weed over the block?
— No idea.
— If you want we can go together.
— No, we’re going somewhere else — Yuri cut.
We turn to the left and stopped for a moment to let the guy disappear. After a moment, we got back on the road.
— Here you never know. Sometimes the police come here wearing civil clothes and try to arrest the buyers. You need to be discrete. That dude came because he saw your cash. Never show your money in here. Maybe hi’s just a good fella, but you never know.
We took a side street leading to a cemented block. At the corner there was a kid with the look lost in a rusty iron barrel that served as a bonfire. Further, the building’s door was guarded by two men.
— Take off your mask. — Yuri ordered — They don’t like people with covered faces in here.
We crossed the door and we climbed a spiral staircase. The walls were fully decorated with arrows, phrases and graffiti. A big sign drawn in the surface indicated the prices and the products for sale. It said things like “Beuh_20; Speed_30; Sniff_60”. Next to it, a Snapchat profile was written in blue.
When we reached the 3rd floor we saw again the guy that had talked to us 5 minutes before on the streets. He gave us a knowing look as he stuffed a small package in his left pocket and continued on his way out.
At this point the stairway ended and a grating of thick bars separated it from a dark, windowless room. On the back, the sound of some far voices arrived from a narrow corridor. On the front, next to the bars, a fellow sitting on the gloom was selling the drug.
He was a young man, with dark skin. It was impossible to guess his age, because the darkness hide his entire face.
— 20 euro of weed — Yuri demanded.
The guy searched into a big grey bag that he had on his side, grabbed 2 little shiny packages and gave them to Yuri. The Italian compared the two little wrappers, kept one and gave the other back to the seller. I took my 20 euro bill and handed it to the man. He stared at me with his big white rounded eyes that glowed in the dark. No other word was mentioned.
After the purchase, we returned the same way we arrived. We went down the stairs, left the block, retraced the avenue and re entered the subway, that brought us back to downtown.
Back home, it was time to taste the stuff. It was kept in a nice white and orange plastic wrap that imitated the design of Kinder chocolates. In the centre of the package was an image of the well-known chocolate egg with a cannabis husk inside.
I opened the small bundle and took a large bullet-shaped bud from it. It was fluorine green, dotted with orange stamens and covered by a thin whitish resin. Its sweet aroma told me it was ripe. I pinched a corner of the succulent flower and ground it with my fingers into an emerald powder, with which I made a thin cigarette.
After putting Música para lagartos on the player, I settled back on the couch and lit the lighter, determined to end my 3-month abstinence.
