I was walking down a side street in Rome near the Spanish Steps when a sign leapt out at me: “Weed Shop.” Be still my Seattleite heart.
At that point I’d been traveling throughout Europe and North Africa for several months, and for all intents and purposes had been abstaining from the green-goodness. Being from a place where it’s sold recreationally with the blessing of the legislature, I’m no longer accustomed or even inclined to search out black-market sources. So when I encountered this apparently legal provider, I jumped on the opportunity.
The owner of the shop, it turned out, was from Los Angeles.
– Read the entire article at Civilized.