I read today, in a Douglous Coupland book about Van, that it is not uncommon for hordes of Japanese teenagers to visit the city with the sole aim of having a pot smoking holiday. Although calling it 'pot' in England makes you sound impossibly '60s and like you have no sense of humour, in the US and here pot still seems to be common parlance. I could be wrong about this, but I dislike the English term 'weed' anyway, since it sounds like a gardening activity and for some reason brings to mind grimier images. Pot sounds perky! Weed sounds gross.
It's all gross to me now anyway since I have outgrown any fascination by, let's see, over a decade....which is why I was clueless when I first moved into my room here. It's in the basement and the rest of the basement is rented to a dude who has been renting here for ten years. I don't think he ever opens the windows. He's very white, like Jim Gaffigan, and he coughs a lot. The coughing might have been a clue about what was causing the strange pee-like reek I noticed soon after I moved in that occasionally permeated my room.
Although only occasional the smell was so strong that I leapt up from the bed where I may have even been typing this blog, to dance around my room sniffing things, including myself. It took literally weeks for me to realise that the dude next door was busy toking himself into his next coughing fit and that my room's ugly pee smell was actually eau de pot coming through the walls.