Amsterdam, NL
Long before cannabis was legal in parts of the United States—or anywhere at all for that matter—toker tourism was somewhat of a radical ethos in the hazy realm of the recreational sabbatical. It was presumably a pastime drummed up, at least in part, by the Beat Generation, a movement of poetry and political pushback that inspired rebellious, forward-thinking youngsters coming of age to get ripped on reefer, hop in their cars and, without so much as a plan, set out on a journey to find themselves along the great American landscape. Many of these marijuana misfits intentionally bypassed that all-important left at Albuquerque and ventured into vast rural remote areas on a quest for some semblance of enlightenment. Who knows what they went searching to find. Maybe they wanted answers to the quandaries of life that their parents, priests, and teachers hadn’t yet been able to explain. Or maybe they just wanted to get wrecked without anyone harshing their mellow, man.
These evolutionary excursions weren’t
