I gotta contact high just getting to Morocco. The cheapest route turned out to be a package holiday flight to Spain! And, to accompany me on the long bus journeys through the air conditioned nightmare strip of the Costa Cola, a lil' piece of Moroccan smuggled itself across Spain and into Morocco! (So I wouldn't have to score - and get ripped off - the first night in Tangiers, see?)

Nor is that all. Remembering the Prophet's advice "Trust in Allah but Hide your Stash up your Ass", I'd bought a padlock for my bag, and promptly lost it in Granada - scene of the Alhambra Gardens, built by some very stoned 'Moors' (gettit?) during their centuries long domination of Spain.

So, embarking from the ferry in Tangiers with my piece of Moroccan hash and a bag filled with all my old, worthless T-shirts and cassettes (great for bartering) which I couldn't open, the first words I heard on the African continent were "Open ze bag!". Well, the customs guy frowned, he huffed, he fiddled with the cheap lock, and finally he waved me through. What could you smuggle into Morocco?!

This technique is not advised for the return journey. And it turned out that Dutchmen have, in fact, been smuggling super-sensi seeds to the Ketama farmers! The fate of my piece of home-coming Moroccan? Well, since I did in fact score some "double zero"* my very first night at the Hotel Fuentes in the Socco Chico (everything is described as "double zero", "Sputnik" or "Bob Marley")

I never bothered with it again till one fine afternoon, "high" in the Rif Mountains (hence "reefers") I told my "friend and brother" Abdul the story. He asked to see it, dismissed it as "third shake," and contemptuously tossed it off the cliff.

It's All In The Shake
Third shake? By twisting a pole in it, pull a length of Japanese nylon mesh tight over the mouth of a plastic basin.

Crumble on top several sheaves of grass that you've dried earlier. Over that lay a sheet of that heavy plastic which chemicals come in, and pull the whole affair tight with a noose of heavy rubber. Then beat the whole thing - gently - for 30 seconds.

That's "first shake" - only the pollen falls through the mesh. What looks like an empty bucket to the beginner is now actually covered in a thin patina of pollen which, scraped together into a few scant grams of almost gold dust, can be heated and pressed in the palm of your hand into pure "double zero" cannabis resin.

"Second shake" is the same thing again, only much harder, so you get smashed leaves and, obviously, much more quantity. That's what shows up in most European capitals - if you're lucky.

"Third shake" is everything including the kitchen sink and your broken modem.

The Seven Donkeys Cafe Bust
Me and Abdul had just climbed up to this tiny one cafe "town" (no bars in Arabville). Sitting, totally stoned in the nameless cafe, I suddenly realised that all the locals who'd been turning me on were outside busy with something. Stumbling over I saw, in the gathering gloom outside, several white donkeys drawn up on the main path.... and cops scrambling everywhere!

"Good time to sit inside and not look out!" advised Abdul with an anxious smile.

They bust seven donkeys loaded with 50 kilos each, the operation took up most of the evening, and the captain told me it wouldn't even make the local newspaper. A true professional, "trained in France", he realised it was a game the Western powers insisted they play seriously - but with no serious budget.

After the cops had gone, puffing on an old man's kif pipe (spurned by young Moroccans today) I announced that the cafe now had a name: The Seven Donkeys Cafe! Nobody laughed. And, in the silence, Abdul reported the captain's final words:

"I know your friend is a big dealer. His boat is waiting up near El Hacema. He did not fool me."

BEST TIPS
*Buy nothing on your first night anywhere in Morocco. Everybody can tell you just arrived; you're every "guide"'s dream.

* Best double zero won't cost less than £1 per gram in personal quantities, but all hash is pretty good. Should be sticky, golden-green, sweet smelling. (If you'd quite like your girlfriend smelling like it then it's probably okay) "Double zero" bubbles when heated.

* Ketama town is a shithole of paranoia, Mercs and narks. Chef Chaouen, just outside the patrolled Ketama area, is an absolutely beautiful city and fairly unspoiled.
Don't tell anyone!

* Much more smoking is going on than meets the eye - at home with friends, or discreetly on the balconies above cafes.

* Mohammed did not order women to cover their faces. He said they should cover their breasts. I guess he was an old fashioned kind of a guy!

* He prohibited alcohol but not marijuana. So don't let anyone claim he got everything wrong!