reakfast in Amsterdam goes something like this: walk into the coffeeshop of your choice and ask to see the "menu." If you want to eat, be more specific and ask for the "food menu." Saying, "the menu, please," will produce a card with a dozen or so different types of grass and hashish written on it and the quantity that 25 gilders will procure. Some menus even look like baseball card albums, with samples tucked into the little plastic envelopes on each page. In the right places you can get a couple of grams of high end dope for 25 g's — roughly $20 an eighth. The cheap stuff is, well, cheaper. Order a cup of coffee while perusing the "menu" — it's considered bad form to buy your dope first — then ask to see a sample of the cannabis concoction of your choice.

The various grasses have names that may seem strange and bizarre: Skunk, Super Skunk, Northern Lights, Afghan Haze, and (the strain in vogue at the moment) AK-47. The hashish is more logically named for its area of origin. The variety is a bit overwhelming, but a good waitron will gladly help you select the stinky providing the particular high you're after. But if they're unhelpful or won't let you examine the goods before purchase, finish your coffee and leave.

When the dope arrives, order your breakfast and commence smoking. Pipes are rarely used in coffeeshops, but if you brought your own feel free to use it. Rolling papers are available either on your table or at the bar, and many of the finer establishments have a house bong they'll gladly loan out. But be prepared to put down a deposit.

After breakfast Harriet led me to her place of employment, the CIA Headquarters. CIA, in this case, stands for Cannabis in Amsterdam, an outfit best described as a tourist information office for stoners. Here they can direct you to the best coffeeshops, tell you all about the different kinds of kind available, sell you "the best marijuana seeds in the world," and help you find a place to hind from the DEA. They also run a souvenir shop specializing in hemp products and the Skunk line of 100% hemp clothing.

We hung out at the CIA — trying on Skunk overalls, jeans, jackets, shirts, and prom dresses — until the designers showed up. These two Calvin Kleins of cannabis explained, through their own deep haze, that all the fabric is hand-woven in Thailand and shipped to Amsterdam, where the two of them personally make every garment. Hemp is actually cheaper than cotton, they wanted to make clear. It's just that it takes them all afternoon to thread a needle, which is why it costs 120 bucks for a pair of jeans with one leg longer than the other and the hip pockets on upside down.

"They're great clothes," explained the more articulate of the Skunk partners, "They'll last forever and won't shrink. They're even machine washable and color-fast."

"Yeah," said his associate, "hemp will save the world."