Right, I'm sat here in the hostel with a bunch of French guys who are enjoying the ritualistic past-time of 'picking on the really wrecked guy as he hangs his head'. My feet are bruised.
I decided that I ought to get to the PowerZone which was the registration point and centre of all things Cannabis Cup. My GPS said 6km ywhich my fuzzled brain interpreted into "a nice easy stroll looking at some of the town". It fucking well wasn't. It was a damn long way.
When I finally got there I was greeted by a single sullen security guard and a man quizzing him. Evidently the security dude knew nothing or didn't give a shit, or, being in security, a honed sense of both.
The Russian dude was there to interview people and surprisingly knew less than me. I was impressed at that. We then got a train back into town and abysmally failed to register at any of the other bars. I got some Citrenaliah and some Lavender weed. The Citrenaliah has a silly name but is sharp and heady, bit of a tang whereas the Lavender is all faint herb fragrances living up to its namesake. Both very nice.
So, total failure to register today. Still if I get out of bed before 1pm tomorrow I can beat the rush. :)
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