A little over a year ago, I sent out the very first issue of Fil Rouge.

At the time, my goal was simple. To offer a perspective on cannabis that was less caricatured, more nuanced, and grounded in what is actually happening on the ground. Not to convince anyone of anything, but to shed light on ideas that many still struggle to imagine when it comes to the development of the legal cannabis industry.

As the months went by, however, another topic naturally became central to my writing: the Caribbean.

In many ways, Fil Rouge has become a way for me to observe our region through a more strategic lens. Beyond the landscapes, the familiar faces and the economic or social realities we share, a clear contrast emerges whenever cannabis enters the conversation.

While discussions in Guadeloupe and Martinique are still largely centered on prohibition, illegality and the perceived risks associated with the plant, other Caribbean territories seem to be asking very different questions.

How do we transform a heritage that was criminalized for decades into a driver of economic development?

How do we build an industry that genuinely benefits local communities?

How do we preserve a cultural identity while developing a modern and competitive market?

These were the questions I had in mind when I travelled to Antigua & Barbuda last April to attend the ABC Festival. Following that trip, I published an article for Newsweed titled “Antigua & Barbuda: When Cannabis Becomes a Cultural Destination and a Tool for Sovereignty.” It provides an overview of the festival and everything currently taking shape there.

Rather than revisiting the festival itself, I’d like to focus on a few ideas that emerged throughout the conferences, conversations and encounters I had during those four days.

Because behind these discussions lie much broader questions about sovereignty, identity, innovation and economic development. Questions that go far beyond a cannabis festival.

“An industry built by Caribbean people, for Caribbean people.”

Let’s start with a bold statement.

In many parts of the world, building a cannabis industry is primarily about regulation: compliance, licensing, standardization and profitability. These are all essential elements. They provide structure, credibility and legitimacy to a new market.

But throughout the Caribbean, another dimension seems to be part of the equation.

History. Culture. Identity.

For decades, cannabis was treated as a problem to be solved. The people who cultivated it, consumed it or maintained a relationship with the plant were often marginalized, stigmatized or criminalized. Today, the conversation is changing. Cannabis is becoming an economic opportunity, an emerging industry capable of creating jobs, attracting investment and opening new avenues for innovation.

Naturally, one question follows: Who should be involved in building this industry?

In Antigua, St. Vincent and several other CARICOM territories, I sensed a strong desire to ensure that this answer does not come exclusively from outside the region. For many of the people I met during the festival, the goal was never simply to legalize a plant or create a new market. It was also about making sure that the communities, entrepreneurs, cultivators and local stakeholders who have carried this culture for decades have a place in shaping its future.

What struck me most was how different this perspective is from one that is often heard elsewhere, where culture is sometimes seen as an obstacle to professionalism. In the Caribbean, I came away with the opposite impression. Culture is viewed as an asset. Not as a substitute for regulation or market requirements, but as something that gives this emerging industry its own identity. Because in the end, what will distinguish Caribbean cannabis from cannabis grown anywhere else in the world will not simply be the plant itself.

It will be the history that surrounds it. The knowledge that has been passed down. The communities that preserved it.

And the region’s ability to transform that heritage into opportunity. Building an industry by Caribbean people, for Caribbean people, does not mean excluding anyone else. It means claiming the right to help define the priorities, the opportunities and the story that will shape the future of this industry. In other words, it means taking part in building your own future.

“If we don't organize ourselves now, we will be structured from the outside.”

It almost sounds like a manifesto.

At first glance, this statement appears to be about regulation. In reality, it is about power. The power to define the rules. The power to establish the standards. The power to decide what will hold value tomorrow.

For centuries, the Caribbean’s agricultural economy was built around crops intended to serve foreign markets. Sugar cane, bananas, cocoa... the region produced, but it did not define the market rules, set the prices or establish the standards. Much of the value generated by these commodities ultimately left the region alongside the raw materials themselves.

Today, the risk is not simply to reproduce that same model with cannabis. The real danger is believing that building an industry is only about growing a plant. An industry begins long before the first harvest. It begins when the rules are written, when standards are established, when products are developed, when skills are transferred, and when the relationships that allow a market to function are created.

In other words, an industry is built while its foundations are still being laid. That is exactly what I experienced throughout the festival.

On the first day, the Cannabis Forum brought together cultivators, entrepreneurs, researchers and institutional representatives from across the Caribbean to identify the priorities they wanted to bring before CARICOM. Interestingly, the conversation was not centered on exporting to the United States or Europe. It was about the Caribbean itself. The movement of raw materials, processed products, biomass, knowledge, healthcare professionals, technical expertise. The circulation of people and ideas throughout the region.

Before looking outward, many of the people I met believe the priority is to build a Caribbean market capable of creating its own value, strengthening regional collaboration and developing standards that reflect the region’s climate, culture and economic realities. Ultimately, the challenge is not simply to produce cannabis in the Caribbean.

It is to ensure that, this time, the Caribbean also helps define what this industry will become.

“Legalization is not the finish line.”

“An industry doesn’t work simply because it’s legal.” To be honest, those were the exact words used by Dr. Aisha Bailey from Jamaica during her presentation.

For years, the primary objective of cannabis advocates was legalization. Establishing a legal framework is an essential first step. Without it, there is no research, no businesses, and no safe access for patients.

But once legalization is achieved, a new set of challenges begins. Medical cannabis is legalized with a clear purpose: to relieve symptoms, improve patients’ quality of life, and provide treatment options when conventional therapies are no longer sufficient. In other words, the success of legalization should not be measured by the number of licenses issued or the volume of cannabis produced.

It should be measured by the number of patients whose lives are genuinely improved. Yet despite the fact that several Caribbean countries now have legal frameworks, licensed producers and locally grown medical cannabis, adoption remains surprisingly low. According to the data presented by Dr. Bailey, only 9% of patients are willing to use certain forms of medical cannabis. This suggests that legislation is no longer the primary barrier.

The real challenge now is helping patients move beyond decades of stigma and begin to see cannabis as part of their health and wellness journey. Because the reality is simple: many patients do not want to smoke cannabis and many never will. They are looking for oils, capsules, creams, edible products and other dosage forms that fit naturally into their daily lives.

Meeting those expectations requires much more than cultivation. It requires product development, formulation, research and, perhaps most importantly, education, for both healthcare professionals and patients. This also highlights another challenge I observed throughout the festival. The Caribbean already possesses an impressive amount of cannabis knowledge. Many entrepreneurs are producing high-quality products using traditional and artisanal methods. But if the medical cannabis industry hopes to gain the trust of physicians, regulators and patients, it must also guarantee consistency.

Standardization does not mean abandoning local knowledge. It means being able to reproduce the same product, document every step of the process, ensure its safety and demonstrate its effectiveness. Ultimately, legalization is not the finish line.

It is the moment when the real work begins.

In conclusion

So yes, the Caribbean is developing its own model within a rapidly evolving cannabis industry.

This idea of coming home, something we know so well in Guadeloupe, is happening across the region. After building their expertise in countries where cannabis has been regulated for years, many Caribbean professionals are choosing to return and play a role in shaping this emerging industry at home.

I’m reminiscing about Spanni.

Throughout his journey, he has gained experience in genetic selection, seed production, indoor and outdoor cultivation, research and development, and regenerative farming practices focused on living soils. Yet what impressed me the most was not the breadth of his knowledge. It was the purpose behind it.

His ambition is to adapt that knowledge to the realities of the Caribbean, its climate, its soils, its cultivars and their adaptability. In other words, to use what was learned elsewhere to build something here.

Perhaps that is what best summarizes everything I observed in Antigua. The Caribbean is not simply trying to develop a cannabis industry. It is trying to build one that reflects who it is.

And while the years ahead will undoubtedly be shaped by standards, compliance and regulation, their success may ultimately depend on something else entirely: a generation willing to return, to share what it has learned, and to build.

Because an industry is never just about a plant.

It is built by the women and men who choose to put their knowledge at the service of their own territory.

DISCLAIMER

This issue is a compilation of personal experiences shared by cannabis consumers about their intimate lives.
It is neither a guide nor a comparison between men and women. It is a real narrative around a central act in romantic relationships, when combined with cannabis.

I dedicate this issue to those who did not hesitate to share their vulnerability with me on this topic… you are very, very appreciated ;)

In this month of February, the one where capitalism reminds you that love is proven by spending a few extra euros, we’re going to talk about an alliance that is as fascinating as it is taboo : cannabis and sex. What happens when you’re under the influence and the intention to give and receive pleasure enters the scene? Let me be clear, there is no moralizing here. No “you don’t need this for it to be good.” No.

As always, I’m not here to tell you whether you should do it or not.
I’m here to explore what is being said, what is being lived, what it reveals. And honestly, I believe my curiosity may help readers who don’t dare have these conversations. Because yes, sex can feel different under cannabis. Sometimes more intense. Sometimes deeper. Sometimes more disorienting.

I asked around. Women. Men. People who consume in very different ways. Their answers were direct, unfiltered, sometimes surprising. This month’s Fil Rouge is an exploration. We talk a lot about cannabis and pleasure. Much less about the body, context, consent, comfort.

So… what does cannabis actually reveal about how we experience desire, sensation, and intimacy?

What do women think?

We’ve all probably heard this urban legend: when a woman consumes cannabis, she becomes a nymphomaniac. Let’s finally speak like adults. Behind this easy shortcut lies a deep misunderstanding.

“Sharing a good moment… but with someone I trust.”
Before even mentioning orgasm or libido, one reality consistently emerges. Cannabis does not replace trust. In the experiences shared with me, cannabis can make it easier to surrender, but it cannot manufacture the trust. The relaxation they describe doesn’t appear out of nowhere. It settles in because there is a partner in front of them. A SAFETY. An implicit permission to lower their guard. Cannabis can help slow the mind, relax the body down to the most tense muscles, but it does not create connection or security. It amplifies them.

Within that specific framework — the right moment, the right person — some describe a complete surrender. A body more available, more flexible, as if usual resistances dissolve. Orgasms may arrive in successive waves, with an unusual, almost unsettling intensity. Not because a molecule “created” pleasure, but because the context is right. “Normally, orgasm itself is already overwhelming, but after consuming, the sensations manifest in very particular ways, intense and vivid.”

Behind this intensity lies another dimension that is rarely addressed : comfort. For many women, sex is not only about desire. It is also about pain, tension, and physical availability. Vaginismus, endometriosis, pelvic pain, fibroids, hormonal imbalance, realities that are far from glamorous and rarely discussed, yet deeply present. In this context, cannabis appears less as an aphrodisiac and more as support. It can relax, modulate pain perception, make the experience less hostile, more accessible. Not “better” by magic, simply possible.

Another detail appears consistently, heightened sensory intensity. Cannabis has the ability to make touch feel more intimate, more sensual, sometimes even unsettling. “The sensations were so intense that I could feel the pulse of my partner inside me, where I usually feel tension and pain.” Others nuance their experiences without romanticizing them:

“I’m more relaxed, more open… but as I’ve gotten older, I sometimes experience vaginal dryness.”

“It’s not necessarily better. It’s… different.”

“I stop overthinking. I become more playful.”

“My libido explodes… and the pain from endometriosis disappears.”

When we think about female sexuality in association with cannabis, many important details are overlooked. It sometimes opens a door and sometimes reminds us that everything depends on context, the body, and the person in front of you. For some, it simply quiets, for a moment, the pain that usually makes pleasure complicated.

What do men say?

Let me be completely transparent. At first, I did not plan to include the male experience. We rarely speak about men as sensitive beings in sexuality. We imagine them as performers, available, almost mechanical, as if male pleasure were automatic and obvious. Yet once I began asking questions, I realized something, I had never truly heard men explain how cannabis affects their sexuality. Their experience deserves to be heard.

Under the influence, they first describe a state of physical and mental relaxation that sets the stage. Stress decreases. The body loosens. The mind slows down. For some, this immediately shifts the experience : less performance, more sensation. “For me, sex becomes inspiring.”

A distinction often appears between early consumption and long-term regular use. At the beginning, there is hypersensitivity. The body feels everything more intensely, a simple touch takes on unexpected depth and presence. “When my consumption was lower, everything was amplified. A single caress felt like a thousand. Now, I don’t really see the difference.” For heavy consumers, those who smoke several times a day for years, cannabis sometimes stops being an amplifier. It accompanies the act without necessarily transforming it. “I don’t even know if it changes anything anymore.” With time and daily use, the effects lose intensity. Tolerance sets in and what once felt extraordinary becomes ordinary.

There is also a subtler dimension. Cannabis doesn’t only “increase” desire, it modifies attention. It quiets daily stress, reduces intrusive thoughts, and in that calmer space, libido can intensify. “For me, sex is better under the influence. I have more ideas, more creativity, more desire to give pleasure. I’m more attentive.” Some mention stronger erections, delayed ejaculation, greater endurance. Others describe the feeling as if all the body’s sensory receptors wake up at once.

Another nuance appears. Not all varieties produce the same effects. Some profiles stimulate excitement, others calm, others dampen energy. The experience is never uniform. The same goes for intimacy with their partner. “I’m more attentive to my partner’s body and pleasure. If I see she’s enjoying herself more, I feel more pleasure too.”

At the core, these accounts show that cannabis acts less as an automatic trigger and more as a modulator. Sex is not necessarily “better,” but the experience can become more intense, more immersive, sometimes more playful. And as with women, context, frequency, and one’s relationship to their body matter far more than the mere presence of THC.

What shifts the experience ?

Consumption: dosage, frequency, method, variety

We’ve discussed trust and context, factors rarely considered when speaking about sex under the influence. Another part of the equation is how cannabis is consumed.

Dosage radically changes the experience. A microdose can increase availability and sensory awareness. Overconsumption, or mixing substances, can send the mind spiraling.

The method of consumption matters. Inhalation (the most common method) allows better control over duration and intensity. Ingestion creates a deeper immersion, sometimes stronger, and longer-lasting bodily effects.

Frequency plays a major role. Occasional users or those consuming small amounts may experience amplified sensations. Heavy consumers may experience neutrality.

The cultivar itself matters. Yet on the market, cannabis is often presented as uniform. Cannabinoid levels and terpene profiles make all the difference.

The mechanics of desire

If these experiences vary so widely, it is not by chance.

The human body contains a regulatory system called the endocannabinoid system (as I explained in #6 Debunking Tetrahydrocannabinol: breaking the mirage”). Its role is to maintain internal balance. It regulates pain, mood, stress, and sensory perception, which are pillars of sexual experience.

This system functions through receptors throughout the body (notably CB1 receptors in the brain and central nervous system). When cannabinoids like THC bind to these receptors, they modulate neural activity, reducing stress, altering time perception, amplifying or dampening sensations. The endocannabinoid system also interacts with dopamine circuits (associated with reward and desire) and cortisol (the stress hormone). Less stress can mean greater availability for pleasure. Too much stimulation can generate anxiety.

In women, muscle relaxation may reduce pelvic tension. In cases like dyspareunia (pain during intercourse) or vaginismus (involuntary pelvic floor contraction), cannabis is not a miracle solution, but it may offer modulation.

In men, dopamine activation and reduced stress can influence desire and arousal perception. Cannabis may indirectly affect blood flow and vasodilation, supporting erection at lower doses and potentially impairing it at higher ones.

As mentioned earlier, cannabis does not “create” pleasure. It acts on the systems that make pleasure possible. But we must remain lucid. Research on cannabis and sexuality remains limited. Few robust clinical trials exist, and much of the data comes from personal reports and self-assessment.

Sexuality under the influence: an experience lived

While institutions take their time producing solid research, the market moves forward. In legal countries, sexual cannabis products are exploding: CBD or THC lubricants, “sensual” oils, vaginal suppositories, pelvic pain topicals. Everything exists. Sometimes a bit too much.

But what we find on the market is not always designed with nuance. Most products are marketed toward women, as if male sexuality required neither depth nor guidance. We rarely hear about the specific varietal profiles used. Isolated molecules are not comparable to full-spectrum extracts containing the plant’s entire molecular profile. Yet everything is simplified. Promised:

“More libido. Stronger orgasms. Easier lubrication.”

And yet, as the testimonies show, the search for “better sex” is rarely the central theme. What emerges instead is context. Trust. Tolerance. Attention. Stress regulation. Pain modulation. Realities far more complex than a label promise. We speak little of menstrual cycles, perimenopause, erectile issues, hormonal fluctuations, or emotional states.

Perhaps the real revolution would not be multiplying products, but explaining how they work and for whom.

I could have gone much deeper. But for this first exploration of sexuality, I wanted to keep it accessible.

If you are in Guadeloupe and wish to explore legal products thoughtfully, you can visit The Green Kaz CBD shop. Lindsay takes the time to explain without taboo and guide you according to your needs.

Behind pleasure, there is sometimes another, quieter reality, pain. A subject we will explore more deeply in upcoming issues. While access to medical cannabis in France continues to be delayed, many people live daily with persistent pain that is not always adequately treated. The conversations are just beginning.

In the meantime, offer flowers to your partner (especially the kind that can be shared). Give compliments. Give pleasure, not because a calendar tells you to, but because appreciation should be expressed as often as possible.

Welcome to issue #10 of Fil Rouge. This bonus edition closes my series on Saint Vincent & the Grenadines, not to recount yet another travel memory (although I will share a visit to two cultivation sites), but above all to return to what, in my view, shapes the identity of any cannabis industry: genetics and seeds. A topic that resonates strongly with readers and will return in future editions of Fil Rouge. Today, however, it is approached through a very specific lens: the future of the Caribbean cannabis industry, without romanticizing it.

Over the course of my meetings, visits and activities during the Cannabliss Festival, one thing became clear. In the lounges of legal brands such as Medicinal or Summus, on exhibitors’ stands and throughout business conversations, the cultivars being highlighted mostly come from North American seed banks. The few times a local variety, such as Vincy, was mentioned and tasted, it was during an exchange with Highgrade (a conversation you can find in Fil Rouge #7).

On paper, Saint Vincent & the Grenadines ticks many important boxes: a structured medical market, a clear regional vision, and an explicit ambition to play a leading role within CARICOM. But when you look more closely at what is actually being grown, promoted and valued, a question naturally arises: Why doesn’t SVG put its local varieties, those that truly express Caribbean terroir, at the centre of its narrative?

Landraces, hybridization and rarity

One day, someone close to me asked why there is such fascination around cannabis seeds and genetics. While the answer may seem obvious to some, it’s worth remembering that cannabis is still widely perceived as a drug, a low-quality product, and rarely as a plant in its own right. The simplest way to approach this question is by drawing a parallel with an industry everyone knows: wine.

Why are some bottles sold for under €5, while others exceed €1,000?
What truly determines the value and quality of a wine?

• An identifiable terroir (vine age, region, soil quality, climate)

• The grape variety

• Time spent ageing in barrels and bottles

• Recognized human savoir-faires

These same criteria apply to cannabis. It is a plant deeply shaped by its environment. Certain regions are already globally recognized for their specific genetics, to the point that, in markets such as California, cannabis grown in certain areas is now being integrated into systems similar to appellations of origin (currently being implemented). In cannabis, as in wine, quality rests on clear foundations: terroir, genetics, cannabinoid and terpene profiles, and long-term selection work.

Today, however, the contemporary cannabis industry is largely dominated by hybridisation, the cross-breeding of different varieties. In this context, so-called landraces, genetics that have not been intentionally crossed by humans, have become extremely rare. Their value lies not only in their agronomic potential, but also in what they represent: genetic, environmental and cultural heritage.

Some regions are widely known for these locally shaped genetics, influenced by climate, soil and farming practices: the Kush Valley (India–Pakistan), Morocco’s Rif, and parts of Asia such as Thailand, with its distinctive tail-shaped cultivars.

Keeping this in mind, it becomes interesting to imagine what a Caribbean cannabis industry built around strong cultivar identities could represent: terpene profiles reminiscent of our fruits and medicinal plants, terroirs shaped by each island’s microclimates, and direct impacts on tourism, agro-processing and premium positioning.

Georgetown: open-air experimentation, research and development

But let’s return to my final day in SVG. Just hours before catching my flight, we headed back to Georgetown to visit two of Kenique’s cultivation sites. His operation is not part of the legal medical cannabis market, but exists within a grey zone specific to the Vincentian context, informal, without being illegal in the strict sense.

We arrive at the first site. In the middle of a residential area, we come across a nursery housing hundreds of young plants in their early growth stages. These are the result of crossings and genetics sourced from major North American seed banks: Garlic Budder, Blueberry Muffin, Caribbean Queen, among others. A varietal selection designed to stabilise and adapt to the local climate over time, genetics intended to structure the Vincentian market in the medium to long term.

What I had in front of me was a genetic base ready to thrive for the next ten years and beyond. The nursery is run by Kenique, a traditional farmer who works closely with Dr Machel Emanuel and plays a key role in transmitting knowledge to younger generations involved in operating his farms. What I was seeing wasn’t just an agricultural operation, it was a concrete attempt to build a sustainable foundation for the future.

We then walk through a watermelon field, and the contrast is striking. I took a moment to do a full 360°, taking in the landscape around me. Under the blazing sun, with mountains and the volcano in the distance, the soil beneath our feet looks dry on the surface, yet fertile thanks to carefully managed irrigation fed by a nearby river. It’s in these details that the authenticity of the Caribbean market emerges: polyculture, natural resources, constant adaptation. The Caribbean way.

We reach a first cultivation site in the vegetative phase, where the nursery plants will soon be transplanted. Further on, we finally reach the main cultivation site, where hundreds of flowering plants, of varying sizes and an intense green, stretch out in full sun.

I’ll be honest, I don’t know where to start. Standing among outdoor cannabis plants is the dream of any enthusiast. After taking a moment to let the place sink in, my first instinct is to lift leaves at random and inspect the sugar leaves, those sticky, trichome-covered leaves closest to the flowers. During flowering, cannabis attracts a whole army of pests: spider mites, scale insects, aphids, thrips, ants. A real nightmare. And yet here, not a single insect in sight. Maybe it’s the season. Maybe it’s the savoir-faire.

I then rub the plant stems across the field. Unlike ornamental flowers, this is where the true essence of cannabis reveals itself. On my fingertips: fruity, floral, sweet, complex aromas that hint at the varieties present here. A few photos, a few questions and it’s already time to leave. The moment was brief, but impactful.

To me, Kenique embodies a rare continuity between island farming practices, field-level rigour and collaboration with research. His work, still in progress, is already shaping the future of Caribbean cannabis. Through him and through the work of Dr Machel Emanuel, a broader regional dynamic is beginning to take form.

Assessing the genetics present in the Caribbean region

After this field immersion, let’s return to the central topic of seeds and genetics. During my visits to legal structures in SVG, I expected to encounter a market highlighting local cultivars stabilized over decades, supported by a clear heritage strategy. That’s not what I observed, a reminder of how early-stage this market still is.

Through discussions with Machel, several realities became clear. One of the Caribbean’s main challenges today is disease management. Under these conditions, cleaning up local genetics to obtain healthy, usable plant material is extremely complex. By contrast, seeds originating from countries with advanced agronomic infrastructures have already undergone rigorous diagnostic testing. Breeding programmes that include molecular analysis make the process more reliable, faster and easier to interpret, hence the relevance, at this stage, of relying on such genetics.

But the objective has never been to stop there. The goal remains the same: protecting Caribbean terroir and developing genetics better adapted to equatorial climates. Traits such as longer flowering periods, for example, allow biomass production to double or triple without artificial lighting. Sustainability sits at the heart of this approach.

Beyond marketing, a cultivar’s name also plays a key role in market recognition. Being able to search Caribbean Queen online and access reliable information about its profile and origin reassures both consumers and professionals. Today, consumer demand largely gravitates toward already identified and documented varieties, which naturally points toward North American and European seed banks.

Yet one thing is clear: while importing foreign genetics may meet immediate sanitary, technical and economic needs, it cannot, on its own, constitute a long-term strategy. This is where the conversations I had last year with Kenzi Riboulet-Zemouli come into focus.

Kenzi has been working for years on issues still largely absent from cannabis debates: seed protection, genetic heritage and traditional knowledge. Frameworks already exist such as the Convention on Biological Diversity and the Nagoya Protocol. While not designed specifically for cannabis, they provide concrete tools to think about seed traceability, recognition of agricultural savoir-faire and prevention of certain forms of biopiracy (the illegitimate appropriation of genetic resources and associated traditional knowledge).

These issues directly concern those who, today, often work in the shadows on breeding, selection and stabilisation. Even in contexts where cannabis remains illegal, documenting one’s work, understanding the basics of intellectual property related to living organisms, and familiarizing oneself with these frameworks is a way to prepare for future legal markets.

Let me give you a concrete example. I asked Machel about the Black Sugar, a variety widely found in Guadeloupe today. I was curious whether it could one day represent Guadeloupean terroir, given its popularity and adaptation to the island’s climate.

While some characteristics have indeed persisted, the original genetics are now largely diluted: undocumented crossings, uncontrolled pollination, seeds resulting from hermaphroditism. Under these conditions, stabilising the variety again would take years, with uncertain results, whereas starting from already stabilized and documented seeds from structured seed banks allows progress that is both faster and more reliable.

Beyond agronomy, Black Sugar’s trajectory also illustrates what happens when varieties circulate, adapt and transform without documentation or protection. Without traceability, clear identification or recognition of the savoir-faire involved, it becomes almost impossible to claim an origin, a heritage or a patrimonial value.

There it is. I can now close this series on Saint Vincent & the Grenadines with a simple observation: many things are being put in place, but everything remains to be built. The Caribbean cannabis market is still emerging, structured around agriculture, tourism, heritage protection and regional ambition.

More than anything, this journey allowed me to meet the faces of this industry in the making. Traditional farmers finally included in the conversation, agricultural and economic actors seeking structure, and a State expressing the will to build a locally rooted yet regionally oriented market, in connection with CARICOM.

This journey raised far more questions than it answered.
And that is exactly what I was looking for.

References

Drugs, Seeds, Traditions and Biopiracy: The Case of African Cannabis Through the Lens of International Law. Authors: Kenzi Riboulet-Zemouli & Farid Ghehiouèche

https://www.researchgate.net/publication/390342356

What Are Terroirs and Why Are They Important for Cannabis Conservation?
Author: Pierre-Arnaud Chouvy

https://www.talkingdrugs.org/fr/what-are-terroirs-and-why-are-they-important-for-cannabis-conservation/

What is the Nagoya Protocol?

https://www.ecologie.gouv.fr/politiques-publiques/acces-partage-avantages-decoulant-lutilisation-ressources-genetiques

If you’re reading Fil Rouge for the first time, welcome and thank you to everyone who takes the time to share their thoughts and feedback. I genuinely appreciate engaging with your reflections on cannabis in our region. Over the past few months, I’ve come to realize that this newsletter can truly become a bridge between Caribbean islands. A space to talk about our heritage, our entrepreneurs, our plants, and the realities shaping our territories… even when the topic remains misunderstood, or still unsettles institutions that struggle to fully acknowledge the emergence of this sector.

To be completely honest, while writing these lines, I already feel the urge to book another flight. Not for the beaches, although Union Island and the Tobago Cays are certainly tempting but to return to the mountains, spend full days in the fields, observe the plants, understand cultivation practices, and reconnect with those who shape, day after day, the identity of Vincentian cannabis.

In this issue, I take you with me:

• on the Farm Tour organized by the Medicinal Cannabis Authority (MCA), in Belair and Georgetown,

• inside their processing and extraction facilities,

• and to CannaSVG and Summus SVG, two of the most structurally influential actors in Saint Vincent’s legal cannabis market.

But before going any further, one question needs to be asked:
what does the field really reveal when medical cannabis is cultivated as a plant, rather than solely as a pharmaceutical product?

Belair: when family farming meets medical cannabis

Toward the end of my stay in SVG, during the final days of the Cannabliss Festival, I joined a Farm Tour designed to trace the origins of the cannabis used for the MCA’s medical brand, Medicinal, and to highlight the agricultural partners behind this legal framework.

The first stop was a farm located in the Belair region, in the heart of Vincentian land. The property spans approximately 62 acres, stretching into the mountains and surrounding forest. But let’s be clear, this is not 62 acres of cannabis. Agriculture here is diversified. Watermelons, pineapples, coffee, vanilla, fruits and vegetables have coexisted on this land for years.

The owner explained that it was his sons who wanted to integrate medical cannabis into the farm. A meaningful generational transition. Cannabis does not replace existing agriculture; it integrates into it. The father was open to the idea, provided that certain adjustments were made upfront, particularly regarding security. Even in a place where cannabis is culturally embedded, it remains a high-value crop, and therefore a risky one.

Seeing this immediately reminded me of Guadeloupe. For generations, many farms there were locked into monoculture systems, (sugarcane, bananas) inherited from a colonial model that left little room for diversification. Today, a new generation of farmers is trying to break that cycle by diversifying crops, varieties, and markets. Watching a father trust his children and agree to integrate a new crop into his land illustrates a broader Caribbean shift and, more importantly, offers hope that similar dynamics can take root back home in Guadeloupe.

On site, several greenhouses are dedicated to cannabis cultivation. Most of the plants were in flowering stage. Some greenhouses stood empty, indicating a recent harvest. Another caught my attention immediately: the nursery. A very DIY setup, with improvised pots (red and blue plastic cups) standing in stark contrast to the ultra-standardized image often associated with medical cannabis. You could clearly distinguish clones, recognizable by their trimmed leaves, from seed-grown plants, which appeared visibly more vigorous.

As a reminder, cannabis can be cultivated either from seed or by taking cuttings from a mother plant. Clones often look different at first, but regain full vigor as they grow. Here, efficiency matters, without losing the connection to the plant itself.

The visit was closely supervised. We couldn’t move freely among the crops, which makes perfect sense in a medical context. Even though standards are not the same as those in Europe or North America, where medical cannabis often grows in ultra-sterile warehouses, strict sanitary protocols are clearly in place. And that’s where the discussion becomes truly interesting.

The medical cannabis paradox: between compliance and heritage

This visit led me to reflect on how medical cannabis is defined across different markets. In some countries, there is an implicit, sometimes subtle, suggestion that cannabis can only be truly effective if grown in fully controlled environments, almost disconnected from the living world. Communication then focuses more on isolating molecules than on using the plant as a whole.

In Europe, and particularly in France, medical cannabis is confined within an ultra-pharmaceutical framework. This is reassuring. Strategically, it also severely restricts access to the market. By placing medical cannabis on the same level as conventional pharmaceuticals, several implicit messages are conveyed:

• a clear boundary between medical cannabis and other uses,

• the erasure of wellness, self-medication, or even spiritual dimensions,

• the continued stigmatization of other cannabis uses under the justification that “it’s not the same thing.”

Yet we tend to forget that cannabis is a medicinal plant used for centuries, long before GMP protocols, and passed down from generation to generation. In France, its efficacy is still questioned, within a paradoxical context where repression remains strong, including against therapeutic uses.

This Western narrative, which I’ve heard repeatedly throughout my years in the industry, claiming that today’s cannabis is inherently “better” than what existed before, contributes to a form of whitewashing. It erases ancestral uses and the savoir-faire of communities that have always cultivated and used cannabis for medical purposes. In Saint Vincent, this rupture doesn’t exist. Medical cannabis is indeed lab-tested, for heavy metals, microbiology, contaminants but the environment remains central. Climate, soil, and altitude directly shape the terpene and cannabinoid profiles observed in the field.

The plants I saw in Belair, destined for patients suffering from various conditions, were lush and healthy. Dense foliage, strong structures, well-managed agronomic practices. You could feel both expertise and a constant drive to improve.

The MCA: processing, extraction, and standardization

It’s worth pausing to examine the role of the Medicinal Cannabis Authority. In France and certainly not in Guadeloupe there is no equivalent. The MCA is responsible for regulating the medical cannabis industry in the public interest, while supporting best practices in cultivation, manufacturing, and governance.

This commitment to transparency is reflected in their openness. After Belair, we headed to their site in Georgetown. A hybrid space combining an extraction laboratory, processing facilities, and an outdoor lounge. Here, flowers are sorted, trimmed, and directed either toward flower sales or transformation. Oils, tinctures, vape cartridges, topical lotions, pre-rolls, every step is explained, shown, and contextualized. A rare, almost educational experience.

CannaSVG & Summus SVG: the first Bajan–Vincentian inter-island structure

The final stop of the Farm Tour was CannaSVG, an integrated model overseeing production, processing, and research, while Summus SVG embodies the brand and customer experience. Two distinct entities, but a shared vision: mastering each step of the process, from field to final product. The operation spans roughly 60 acres near the volcano, where soils rich in sulfur are incorporated into a carefully managed organic cultivation system.

Founded in 2018, the company now employs around fifteen people and covers the entire value chain. Cultivation, transformation, and research. The site includes multiple greenhouses, a dedicated clone greenhouse, spaces capable of housing up to 3,300 plants, and infrastructure for drying, curing, and processing. The scale is impressive. This is clearly large-scale production with high compliance standards: reinforced security, strict sanitary protocols, and continuous monitoring from clones to finished products. Nothing is left to chance.

One key detail: Summus originated as a Bajan brand (Summus Barbados), with clear regional ambitions. CannaSVG now produces and exports medical cannabis to Barbados, an inter-island model that remains under-highlighted, despite being a concrete expression of CARICOM cooperation.

Right next to the operation, the Summus lounge extends the work done upstream. Visitors can discover a selection of locally grown cultivars, merchandising, and hot or refreshing drinks. A space designed not only to welcome, but also to anchor and normalize the medical cannabis experience.

What’s important to understand is that quality and professionalism come at a cost. Cannabis cultivation is often romanticized, and its supposed profitability is often overstated. Yet in the Caribbean, adult-use cannabis is not legal. The market remains medical, governed by the Cannabis Act, with high requirements for compliance, testing, and investment. Once again, CannaSVG and Summus control the entire value chain but doing so requires strong partnerships, a shared vision, complementary skills, and significant financial resources.

I can’t quite close this Saint Vincent & the Grenadines series just yet…

I won’t hide the fact that this issue doesn’t exhaust everything this journey has raised. Some questions are simply too central to be fully addressed here and this third issue merely sets the stage.

Still, one essential takeaway emerges from this Farm Tour. After observing markets where medical cannabis quality is measured primarily through technology (lighting systems, humidity control, automation) the Caribbean model, and particularly Saint Vincent’s, brings us back to a simple truth: here, the environment is not something to neutralize, but something to integrate.

In SVG, medical cannabis doesn’t try to erase culture to reassure. It attempts to coexist with it. The result isn’t perfect, but it’s coherent. The plant remains a plant, rooted in soil, climate, and agricultural savoir-faire passed down through generations. And it is precisely this tension between compliance, terroir, and identity that makes this market so compelling to observe and, in my view, more authentic than a model viewed exclusively through a pharmaceutical lens.

My position as a Caribbean woman connected to Europe allows me to observe two visions of medical cannabis. One is highly regulated, centered on molecules and medication. The other is more holistic, where the plant, its environment, and its uses retain a central role. These approaches aren’t incompatible but they tell very different stories.

This journey confirmed something fundamental, the Caribbean possesses a real, living cannabis heritage that remains largely undervalued. Without being a fixed model, Saint Vincent & the Grenadines plays a key role in shaping a regional industry that seeks to organize, cooperate, and assert itself, driven by regional dynamics still taking form within CARICOM.

To fully complete this reflection, however, one essential piece is still missing: seeds, genetics, and transmission. That’s why this journey will continue in a bonus issue, dedicated to a visit of Kenique’s farm and to one fundamental question:
can we build a Caribbean medical cannabis market without losing what defines its identity?

The next chapter is coming very soon…

After sharing my experience in Trinidad and my arrival in Saint Vincent, here we are with this Travel Diary No. 2, the one that finally gets to the heart of the matter: analyzing how cannabis is integrated, regulated, and experienced in Saint Vincent.

For some, cannabis simply cannot coexist “peacefully” within society. Not without crime, not without social vulnerability, not without collateral damage. In other words: impossible without chaos. Many continue to view cannabis as a public health problem, yet few ever ask how regions that have legalized or decriminalized cannabis manage to function without collapsing into anarchy.

Yes, adjustments are necessary. We’re still talking about a plant with a heavy past.
But this journey takes us precisely where theory meets reality, into the heart of the Grenadines, on the island of Bequia (pronounced Békwé).
The discovery of a medical dispensary, the first immersion into the local community, and the first two days of the Cannabliss Festival, organized by the MCA, the authority responsible for medical cannabis in Saint Vincent.

During this trip, someone told me a phrase I haven’t forgotten:
“Every CARICOM island will have its own economic model around cannabis.” So, what exactly is the Vincentian model built on?
What regulations truly shape this emerging green economy?

Legal, illegal, grey zone, legacy market: how is cannabis regulated in SVG?

Like any ecosystem, the cannabis industry has its own language and codes.
A Guadeloupean or French person who only knows cannabis through the lens of prohibition may struggle to understand concepts that vary drastically from one country to another.

Unlike Guadeloupe, where the term “legal cannabis” still doesn’t mean much, Saint Vincent and the Grenadines operates in a more nuanced reality.
Here, people live within a consciously accepted grey area, where regulation is recent, continuously evolving, but undeniably real.

Medical cannabis (legal)

Medical cannabis has been legal since 2018.
Licenses are issued to cultivate, transform, and sell medical cannabis products.
→ These licenses are supervised by the Medicinal Cannabis Authority (MCA), the public institution in charge of overseeing the entire sector.

Unlike France, which sees medical cannabis as a “last resort,” reserved only for patients in therapeutic dead ends, Saint Vincent adopts a far more pragmatic approach.
The Medical Cannabis Act states that eligible conditions include “any illness or disorder that results in a significant reduction in quality of life, whether due to the symptoms or the treatment of those symptoms.”
A simple, almost obvious logic: care should be a priority, not a privilege.

To obtain medical cannabis, all you need is a doctor’s prescription.
No excessive bureaucracy. No obstacle course.

Decriminalized personal possession

Possession of up to 2 ounces (about 56 grams) is decriminalized.
→ This means no prison sentence, though an administrative fine is possible.
A crucial nuance: consumption is acknowledged, tolerated, and regulated, not demonized.

The right to home cultivation

Anyone may grow up to four plants at home for personal or medical use.
→ In practice, many grow more, and informal sales exist, as in any emerging market.
But this tolerance illustrates the flexibility of the Vincentian model: supporting rather than repressing.

The Vincentian “grey area”

Legal? Illegal? Or simply… possible?
→ The laws regulate certain uses, but day-to-day reality is more flexible.
Traditional farmers continue to cultivate, dispensaries operate, and the market organizes itself somewhere between formal structure and cultural habit.

SVG also produces artisanal cannabis products: wines, oils, edibles (cakes, sweets, infusions).
All these small initiatives show that the system works, even if not everything is officially codified.

Traditional farmers

These are the country’s historical cultivators, those who continued working with the plant despite repression.
→ Long persecuted, now recognized, they form the very foundation of the Vincentian cannabis heritage.

These farmers belong to the legacy market, the precursor cannabis economy.
The government and the MCA now openly acknowledge their savoir-faire and their role in SVG’s international reputation.
A stark contrast with the French territories, where the word “cultivator” is still too often synonymous with “criminal.”

And finally, the Rastafari community

The spiritual backbone of cannabis culture in SVG.
For decades, Rastas have defended the sacramental and medicinal use of the plant, often at the cost of heavy discrimination.
Today, their role and traditions are officially recognized by the Vincentian government.
→ Their status is even written into law, which protects cannabis consumption for “religious” purposes, even though Rastafarianism is more of a spiritual movement than an organized religion.

Day 4 – First “legal” experience in Bequia

We’re spending an entire day in Bequia!
Twenty-three years after my first visit in 2002, I’m rediscovering the island as an adult.
Bequia (pronounced Békwé) is a quick 45-minute ferry ride away.
For EC$50 round trip, you reach the largest island of the Grenadines: 18 km², a little over 5,000 inhabitants, and an arrival greeted by the sound of conch shells.

And to my absolute delight, it’s low season: no waves of tourists in sight.
Yes, I am a tourist, but being surrounded by other tourists irritates me, contradiction fully assumed!

It’s in Bequia that we stumble, quite by accident, upon our first legal medical cannabis dispensary. As we walk, we pass by Summus, an avant-garde brand operating in Saint Vincent but founded by Bajan entrepreneurs.
I’ll come back to this brand later as it deserves its own section.

A few meters down the road, a sign catches our attention: “Green House Café, Cannabis Here.” Intrigued, we follow the arrows to an open-air hotel bar. The bartender explains that the dispensary is located in another building. We then come across several women who seem to be part of a concierge team.
After explaining why we’re here, one of them quickly unlocks the door of a small beachside boutique, a mix of clothing, costume jewelry, souvenirs… nothing that looks like a dispensary. She places a few flyers on the counter, and as I get closer, I realize they’re actually menus of cannabis cultivars, alongside a list of available products (tinctures, oils, edibles) and basic information about cannabinoids and terpenes, the plant’s key components.

But to my surprise: no smell, no visible flowers. When we asked for information about certain cultivars, she opened a locked cabinet and pulled out a pre-packed, sealed pouch from the brand “Medicinal.” This is the official brand of the MCA, the authority that oversees medical cannabis on the island.
No visual inspection of the flowers, no sensory experience. The salesperson, likely an employee of the hotel, also manages this dispensary “when there’s demand.” I left feeling a little frustrated. I didn’t have specific expectations, but for a first encounter with Saint Vincent’s legal market, the experience felt strangely impersonal. We continued on to Princess Margaret Beach, where we spent the day swimming and relaxing. A calm interlude before diving into the real action: the Cannabliss Festival.

Day 5 & 6 – Cannabliss Festival

Since returning to Guadeloupe, I had been wondering when I would finally be able to attend an event, festival, or expo dedicated to cannabis in the Caribbean.
To me, it’s the best way to understand the region, to observe how each island approaches the plant through business, culture, agriculture, and spirituality.

I arrived at Victoria Park Stadium under a blazing sun, just as Dr. Jerrol Thompson, CEO of the MCA, was speaking on stage.
And immediately, something caught my eye: a large number of students in uniform.
High-schoolers… at a cannabis festival?
The image unsettled me as much as it intrigued me. They were everywhere, seated, attentive. At first, I didn’t understand, but very quickly, everything made sense thanks to the speeches from the different ministers.

The Vincentian government intentionally chose to include its youth in this festival because this is not a “weed festival.” It’s a celebration of the island’s agricultural heritage, a heritage in which the cannabis plant has its rightful place, and one in which these students clearly represent the future. As Dr. Thompson said in his speech:
“Cannabis has been integrated into the field of agriculture.”
That says it all. The entire experience highlighted agriculture, culture, and agro-processing.
The official speeches followed one after the other: the Minister of Agriculture, Hon. Saboto Caesar, the Minister of Tourism, Hon. Carlos James, and the Prime Minister, Hon. Ralph Gonsalves.
All emphasized their pride in seeing SVG become a regional pioneer in cannabis regulation. They spoke of economic development, tourism, public health, but above all, social repair.
Traditional cultivators and Rastafari communities (Nyabingi, Bobo Ashanti, Orthodox, Twelve Tribes) were acknowledged and honored as the living roots of the industry.

The message was clear: you cannot build the future without recognizing those who carried the plant through decades of repression. And witnessing a government state this openly, and take responsibility for it, was powerful.
It’s a perspective that is nearly impossible to transpose into our French Caribbean context. Then came the speech of the Minister of Finance, Hon. Camillo Gonsalves, which struck me deeply.
He called for the creation of a truly Caribbean cannabis industry, centered on the plant, its uses, its local actors, and regional intellectual property.
An industry where Caribbean scientists, doctors, entrepreneurs, and cultivators work together, share knowledge, and push the region to the forefront of the global market.
A long-term vision, bold, ambitious, and necessary.

The exhibitors: A vibrant Caribbean ecosystem

The Cannabliss Festival is, above all, a showcase of Caribbean talent within the cannabis space. A concentration of local initiatives, emerging brands, and projects led by passionate individuals who are shaping the industry in their own image.

Among the most memorable exhibitors:

Zippee (Barbados)

I was delighted to finally meet Daniel, the founder of Zippee, after exchanging with him since 2022.
His accessories brand stands out with a clear and refined identity rooted in Barbados.
In a region where branding is often a challenge, seeing young entrepreneurs confidently asserting a polished Caribbean aesthetic is refreshing.

Summus (Barbados x Saint Vincent)

A Bajan company operating in SVG, likely the first true inter-island cannabis business in the region.
Summus legally cultivates medical cannabis in Saint Vincent for the local market.
A genuinely forward-thinking vision, which I’ll discuss in the final part of this SVG newsletter series.

Grow (Antigua & Barbuda)

The only foreign brand at SVG permitted to travel with cannabis.
Last year, this was strictly forbidden. This year, they were allowed to bring samples: flowers, hash, rosin. A quiet revolution, in my opinion, and a step toward true Caribbean free movement of cannabis products.

Medicinal (SVG)

The official brand of the Medicinal Cannabis Authority, offering flowers, oils, tinctures, merch and especially an infused chocolate made with local cacao.
A beautiful blend of agriculture, expertise, and local resources.

SVGBS (Bureau of Standards)

Less glamorous, but essential.
Their presence is a reminder that standards and compliance are the backbone of any sustainable industry.
Understanding standards means being ready to survive regulatory changes.

Wake & Bake 784 (SVG)

On the edibles side, this brand offered cakes, cheesecakes, infused condensed milk, infused sugar, homemade cocktails, a whole world of sweetness.
The founder even made me try their infused Rum Sour, on the rocks and it was delicious, even for someone like me who doesn’t drink alcohol.

Dreada’s Farm (SVG)

Dreada’s Farm’s booth made a strong impression.
A bold branding approach: cannabis plants everywhere, and especially those enormous hāye leaf (also called Fronto) displayed like true centerpieces.
They also showcased ganja wine, with a deeper, more amber tone than traditional cannabis wine and of course, flowers, flowers, and more flowers.

The Rastafari Village

The Rastafari Village is an entire section of the festival dedicated to Rastafari communities showcasing their plants and agro-processed products.
The symbolism is powerful. Dedicating this space to them is a clear message:
you are part of the history, the culture, and now the industry and your contribution is no longer overlooked, but acknowledged.

And then, scattered among the agricultural exhibitors: parrots, snakes, manicous, Vincy Fresh sauces, Ganja/Cannabis Wine, guava wine, soursop wine and even sea moss wine! Orchids and plants grown through in vitro tissue culture.
And a wide, wide range of agro-processed medicinal plants.

SVG doesn’t separate cannabis from the rest, it’s woven into the agricultural and culinary ecosystem, not marginalized.

But one of my favorite moments was watching those high-school students interact with the professionals.
They were everywhere, asking questions, curious, respectful.
And as I observed them, something clicked: here, the plant is not foreign to them.
It’s part of the cultural landscape.
That familiarity simply reflects the place cannabis occupies in Saint Vincent’s agricultural and social history.
They know it’s something regulated, even prohibited in certain contexts, but their reaction felt far more grounded than what I imagine we would see in France, for example.

I saw them speaking with Dr. Machel Emanuel, at the booth he shared with Kenique for Biobizz and The Humboldt Seed Company.
A booth showcasing seeds, including the famous Caribbean Queen and a full range of organic Biobizz products (a brand that collaborated with Julian Marley, something the students were very aware of!).

Machel spoke to them about the future, about science, answering their questions about how the products work.
That moment touched me, the transmission was happening naturally.

The same energy carried over to the booth run by Quillin, founder of Stay Calm It’s a Plant. She explained to the students that cannabis is also an industry of opportunities: medicine, chemistry, business, communication. The kind of message we wish we could hear back home.

The conferences: Between education and awareness

Some people find them long, I find them essential.
The conferences are the compass of this industry: understanding regulations, anticipating shifts, learning from others.
It’s where you literally gain five years of experience in advance.

Dr. Machel Emanuel: “Branding the Caribbean as a quality product”

To understand the importance of his intervention, you need to know who Dr. Machel Emanuel is.
A Dominican researcher widely recognized for his scientific work, he is a Lecturer in the Department of Life Sciences at the University of the West Indies (UWI) in Jamaica.
He holds a Bachelor’s in Zoology and Botany, a Master’s in Plant Production and Protection, and a PhD in Botany, an academic trajectory entirely dedicated to plant sciences.

But above all, Dr. Emanuel is now considered one of the most respected scientific voices in the cannabis industry.
His work on equatorial cultivars, especially the creation and stabilization of the Caribbean Queen, has made him an international reference.
It took six years of research to stabilize its equatorial traits while improving the potency and terpene profile of the variety.
He stands at the crossroads of research, the preservation of Caribbean genetic heritage, and the building of a regional industry rooted in quality and identity.

In other words, when Machel speaks about quality, agriculture, or regulation, he isn’t giving an opinion, he’s setting a direction.
And his presentation was dense with insight: “Quality assurance is non-negotiable.”
He reminded the audience that building a credible brand relies on three pillars: consumer safety, product consistency, and compliance with standards.

Spirit Cottle: The living memory of Saint Vincent

The intervention of Junior “Spirit” Cottle, with 55 years of experience and considered the dean of SVG’s traditional cultivators, was incredibly powerful.
A long-standing activist and former member of the Vincentian Black Power movement, he spent more than eleven years in prison as a political prisoner.
In the late 1990s, he led protests against U.S.-led cannabis eradication operations in the mountains.
Today, he works at the MCA as a community liaison, helping traditional cultivators transition from the illicit market to the legal framework.
Spirit embodies this Caribbean transition that seeks to build the future without denying the past.

A panel of CARICOM representatives

During a panel featuring the Minister of Agriculture of SVG, the CEO of the MCA, a representative from Anguilla, and a representative from the Royal Police of Grenada, Dr. Jerrol Thompson posed an essential question: “How do we move from a regime built on criminalization and punishment to a genuine policy of regulation?”

I’ll be transparent: the intervention of the Grenadian representative struck me.
At one point, he casually mentioned that he had contributed to the arrests of Vincentians, consumers, cultivators, who attempted to transport cannabis to Grenada.
Then, in the same breath, he said he was in SVG to “learn from the Vincentian model,” before declaring, with misplaced enthusiasm, that Grenada would soon be “better” and produce “superior cannabis.”
Tone is everything, and his, in my opinion, was far too arrogant.

Fortunately, a sister from the Rastafari community called him out publicly.
She reminded him that before talking about industry or national pride, the first step should be to apologize to the communities that were marginalized, arrested, persecuted. He deflected, saying that “it’s not his place to apologize, that should be a political decision.”

And that’s exactly the problem.
We see this pattern everywhere: figures who once fueled repression suddenly becoming enthusiastic champions of the industry, without ever acknowledging the harm they caused.

Yes, it was the law. Yes, he worked within a system where cannabis was illegal.
But he was still part of that system. He still bore some responsibility.
And that’s precisely why doing things differently today starts with accountability and apologies, not with ego contests or claims that one’s national industry will soon surpass another.

That he now speaks of expungement, wiping certain cannabis-related records, is one thing. But without responsibility, without sincere apologies, without historical reckoning, it rings hollow.

The transition toward legalization cannot happen by erasing the past.
These actors must be held accountable, reminded that building a prosperous industry does not erase the years they spent criminalizing the very people they now claim to support.

Events like the Cannabliss Festival open a genuine window into the future. These are spaces where people learn, debate, and build together.

As someone pointed out, just a few years ago most Caribbean actors in this industry didn’t even know each other.

Today, we can clearly see a shared vision emerging across the region: the desire to build a deeply Caribbean cannabis industry, rooted in authenticity, pride, and our cultural heritage.
An industry full of challenges, yes, but also full of real opportunities, carried by our scientists, our traditional cultivators, and our ancestral knowledge of medicinal plants.

In the final issue of this travel diary series, the setting changes.
We leave the speeches, panels, and exhibitors behind and head to the places where this industry’s heartbeat is the strongest, into the farms, into Vincentian soil.
I’ll take you deep into the MCA’s Farm Tour, to Summus, and into a field where Caribbean genetics truly come to life.

After exploring the North American market, observing European models, and seeing firsthand how the cannabis industry is structured, the next logical step for me was to return to the essentials : our region.
It’s something I wish I’d done sooner. But in the Caribbean, even when laws are passed, implementation takes time, sometimes years.
Even within CARICOM states, where cannabis has been decriminalized, just a year ago there was still no real local production, nor any legitimate point of access for consumers.

And so, this series of travel logs begins in Saint Vincent & the Grenadines, an exploration of our relationship to cannabis in the Caribbean.
A journey to understand what it truly means to cultivate, transform, and protect a plant that has always been part of our history.
And above all, the rediscovery of a legendary cultivar: the Vincy, grown for decades, passed down from generation to generation, and carried across the sea to Guadeloupe in the 1990s.

I wanted to understand how an archipelago of thirty-two islands and islets managed what so many others still struggle to do, to make cannabis a culture, an economy, and an identity.
These travel logs aren’t tourist guides. They are immersive glimpses into the realities of a Caribbean market in full emergence, a market where every sector, from agriculture to tourism, from wellness to innovation, will soon benefit from what this plant has always offered.

And it’s also a desire to build bridges, to forge real connections beyond the French West Indies, through this plant that, as you’ll see, could become the foundation of a strong, collaborative, and culturally rich regional market.

So sit back, relax, and let yourself be carried away by this Caribbean story.
Welcome to Saint Vincent.

…but first: 36 hours in transit, Pointe-à-Pitre, Bridgetown, Piarco, Kingstown.

Day 1 - I had no idea that leaving Guadeloupe for Saint Vincent would make me feel the weight of our isolation so deeply.
624 kilometers separate Pointe-à-Pitre from Kingstown, less than three hours by plane and yet, no direct flight.
A small detail that might seem meaningless to some, but it speaks volumes about our Caribbean reality. Airlines always say there’s “no demand.” But we all know it’s not about demand, it’s about will.
A deliberate will to keep us isolated, to prevent us from building connections with our neighbors, to lock us into our dependency on France, especially economically.

Trinidad reminded me just how well-oiled that system is.
It’s been only eleven months since Guadeloupe finally got a direct flight to Trinidad & Tobago, a historic first. And yet, Trinidad is right there, practically next door.
So yes, when I booked that ticket, it felt like more than just a trip. It felt like I was crossing an invisible border.
I remember sitting on the plane, hoping this airline would keep the route alive and maybe even add more.

We stopped briefly in Barbados while the plane filled up, then continued on to Piarco, Trinidad.
I arrived late at night and was warmly welcomed by Quillin and Alpha.
If you’re familiar with Caribbean cannabis culture, you probably know Quillin by her handle “Stay Calm It’s a Plant” on Instagram.
That’s how I first came across her, back in 2020, during Covid. Two years later, I organized a global webinar bringing together voices from around the world to discuss the future of hemp and cannabis, and she represented Trinidad & Tobago with striking clarity.
Three years later, here we are, finally meeting in person. The kind of wink life seems to enjoy giving.

Regulation recap in Trinidad & Tobago

The law in Trinidad & Tobago allows each person to possess up to 30 grams of cannabis and to grow four plants at home for personal use.
On paper, it sounds fair enough. But in practice? It’s completely absurd. A single cannabis plant, even grown in basic conditions, can easily yield over 100 grams of flower. It all depends on genetics, cultivation techniques, and the grower’s skills.
In other words, from the very first harvest, the legal limit is already surpassed.

The result?
Cultivators find themselves trapped in a system that doesn’t understand the agricultural reality of the plant.
The law punishes anyone caught with between 30 and 60 grams with fines or community service and anyone holding more than 60 grams faces serious charges, like trafficking.

This ambiguity is anything but innocent.
It’s the same pattern we see in France: a government that allows the sale of products containing less than 0.3% THC, yet suspends driver’s licenses and hands out fines the moment someone tests positive during a roadside check. At its core, it’s the same old logic, a façade of tolerance that lets the system keep profiting and policing around the plant.

Day 2 - First local cultivars

Apple Fritterz grown by Alpha Grades
Cross: Sour Apple × Animal Cookies
Terpene profile: Caryophyllene (spicy), Limonene (citrus/fruit), Pinene (often paired with limonene, herbal)

Peanut Butter Breath grown by Alpha Grades
Cross: Do-Si-Dos × Mendo Breath
Terpene profile: Limonene (citrus/fruit), Caryophyllene (spicy), Pinene (herbal)

Wild Grapes crossed by local producers Family of Potheads

By the end of the day, we finally set off for Saint Vincent.
Upon arrival, we’re greeted by Kenique, better known as Birdman, a traditional cultivator and protégé of Dr. Machel Emmanuel. Kenique is a young Vincentian who carries the knowledge forward, embodying the future of cannabis on the island.

And what a welcome. A real cultural shock, in the best possible way. In Guadeloupe, we don’t share the plant like this. Here, in Saint Vincent, just like in Trinidad, cannabis is shared as a gesture of hospitality, a common language of connection.

On the way to our Airbnb, Kenique hands us two jars: one filled with Blueberry Muffin, the other with Garlic Budder. Two terpene-rich cultivars, easy to tell apart just by their scent. After more than thirty-six hours of flights and layovers, I’m exhausted, but curiosity wins. I give in and take a micro-dose of Garlic Budder.

The “Garlic” strains are part of those rare savory genetics, more spicy and earthy than fruity, a profile we simply don’t find in Guadeloupe.

I’ll dive deeper into these cultivars later, along with the other varieties I tasted throughout the trip, their origins and aromas.
But for now, I just take it all in. This feeling of finally being here, in Saint Vincent, where cannabis isn’t just tolerated, it’s part of the history.

Day 3 – First Day in Arnos Vale: Meeting Highgrade, a Traditional Farmer

The next morning, we finally begin exploring the island.

Together with Quillin and Alpha, we head to meet Highgrade, a traditional cultivator. On the way, we spot cannabis plants in full bloom, growing openly in a garden on the hillsides, exposed to the sun, without anyone seeming to mind.
Another cultural shock: here, people don’t hide.

We continue climbing the winding roads toward his home. In the distance, the Grenadines shimmer, Bequia, Baliceaux, Mustique. A horizon scattered with islets. The walk is steep, a real workout for the legs, but the kind that fills your mind with beauty.

When we arrive, I’m ready to listen to his story. Born in the late 1960s, Highgrade is from the Leeward coast, the western side of the island and descends from Panamanian ancestry. Coming from a long line of farmers, Highgrade has spent his life growing, fruits, vegetables, cannabis. He’s also a fisherman.

He tells me that the Vincy, which he simply calls High Grade, has been grown on the island since his childhood.
According to him, it’s a cross between a Colombian Red or a Venezuelan variety, and a strain originating from Trinidad & Tobago, a pure sativa, stabilized by time and shaped by volcanic soil and dry, ocean air.
It’s a variety that gained recognition far beyond Saint Vincent, celebrated throughout the Caribbean.

His words confirm what I already sensed: our Caribbean genetic heritage is a bridge between South America and the Indian landrace strains that arrived in Trinidad with indentured Indian workers.

He explains that the entire island sits on volcanic ground. He tells me about their cultivation methods: compost, dried sargassum, river water, and 100% organic inputs. No chemicals, ever. Just local genetics and the richness of the soil itself. The very definition of authenticity, Saint Vincent & the Grenadines in essence.

I ask him how he feels about the transition toward legalization. As a traditional farmer who has lived through the criminalization of cannabis, in his own country and across the Caribbean, how does he position himself today in this new market?

He talks about the difficulty of adapting, the frustration of endless prerequisites, and explains that for now, he prefers to stay out of it.
To join the legal market means bending to standards and compliance, a complicated shift to accept for someone who has been growing for over thirty years. And honestly, I understand him.

That’s the paradox of this industry: finding a balance between the historical cultivators, those who represent the foundation, the heritage, the know-how — and the new players of the legal economy.

At the same time, it’s important to understand that cannabis is a product meant for consumption, for inhalation. Once it becomes legal, it must meet health and safety standards, undergo testing and quality control, and comply with packaging regulations to protect consumers.
It also requires marketing, distribution, and logistics, skills that traditional farmers often lack, simply because they’ve never needed them. Yet without these farmers, the industry loses its soul.

The government, on its side, funds the most profitable and most “structured” projects and, more often than not, these projects belong to foreign investors.

I tell him about the New York model, where actors made it mandatory to include the legacy market, the same people who were criminalized for decades but who built the foundation of New York’s cannabis culture. But for him, this idea feels distant, almost abstract.
His way of doing things has always worked, in the shadows, maybe, but it worked.
In the legal world, everything changes: compliance, testing, health standards, packaging… concepts that often feel out of reach for the very people who, ironically, have always produced the best flowers.

Moving from illegal to legal, that’s without a doubt the greatest challenge this industry faces.
And in Saint Vincent, as in many other places, it’s the defining challenge that will determine the island’s future.

In the next travel log, I’ll explore more deeply how cannabis regulation is unfolding in Saint Vincent & the Grenadines.

As we glance into a section of Highgrade’s garden, we discover small cannabis plants in vegetative stage, a sign that one cycle has just ended and that a new harvest has recently taken place. He shows us one of his drying plants. It’s impressive, nearly two meters tall, with around a hundred flowers. A local genetic called “Tasiva”, cultivated on the island for decades. In a box, he’s also curing some Cambodian Skunk.

Then he pulls a small pouch from his pocket. I ask if this is some Vincy. He nods and says, “Yes, some Highgrade.”

There are a few things worth remembering here. First, cannabis markets differ from one region to another, and every terroir comes with its own challenges. Here, humidity directly affects the drying and curing process, stages that can be difficult to manage for many cultivators. Keeping a room between 15 and 22°C on an island where it’s 32°C outside is a luxury. So no, I don’t expect to see flowers sparkling with trichomes like those from North America.

But what Saint Vincent produces is a quality that mirrors the island itself, raw, natural, and profoundly authentic.

We end the day at Villa Beach, facing Young Island. The calm, translucent sea contrasts with the intensity of the day. My head is full of stories, my lungs full of Vincy, and I think about everything I’ve witnessed in such a short time.

This first encounter with Saint Vincent confirmed one thing for me: Caribbean cannabis isn’t a promise for the future, it’s an inheritance already here. And if we, in the French West Indies, want to exist within this regional ecosystem, we’ll need to remember that. It will take the work of ants, to deconstruct, educate, and collaborate.

First Vincentian cultivars

Garlic Budder — Humboldt line grown by Birdman
Cross: GMO × Fortune Cookies
Terpenes: Caryophyllene (spicy), Limonene (citrus/fruit), Linalool (floral)
Energizing without overwhelm — great for socializing or staying productive. The flavor is complex: earthy, floral, and distinctly spicy, evoking graines à roussir, that Creole mix of cumin, yellow mustard seed, and fenugreek. (my opinion)

Blueberry Muffin — Humboldt line grown by Birdman
Cross: Blueberry × Purple Panty Dropper
Terpenes: Caryophyllene (spicy), Myrcene (musky), Limonene (fruit)
A classic of the Blueberry family. Back in Toronto (2018), I started Hellastrains on Instagram to document effects of cultivars I came across; medically, Blueberry lines consistently helped with migraines and severe cramps. Muscle release, calm, relief.

Vincy — grown by Highgrade
No confirmed cross or terpene data. Tasting Vincy is tasting an archive. A variety that doesn’t need shiny trichomes to prove itself. Its effect is mental, clear, lucid, a high that accompanies rather than dominates, a rare balance. Floral, sweet notes and a deep gratitude: to be in Saint Vincent, holding a historic variety shaped by volcanic and marine terroir. The only other line that’s given me similar clarity is the Sour Jack.

These first days helped me grasp the richness of the Caribbean market, the beauty of our ecosystem, and the immense potential this plant holds for our communities and our economies.

Next travel log: off to Bequia (pronounced “Bé-kway”) for a first look at Saint Vincent’s legal scene and the opening of the Cannabliss festival, organized by the Medicinal Cannabis Authority (MCA).

To be completely transparent with you, I often think about the best way to bring even more value to this content. That’s why I want to learn more about your expectations. Here is a short survey (just 1 to 2 minutes) to share your interests, what you would like to see addressed, understand, or explore around cannabis. Your feedback truly matters. Thank you in advance.

In the meantime, welcome to new readers, and a huge thank you to those who’ve been here since the very beginning.

So far, we’ve talked mostly about consumers: their experience with the plant, and how society perceives them depending on the context (adult use vs medical use). But today, I want to go back to the core: the cannabis plant itself. More precisely, one molecule among the 300+ it contains. A molecule that concentrates fantasies, fears, and stigma, in France as well as in Guadeloupe: tetrahydrocannabinol, aka THC.

Let’s be honest, when people talk about cannabis benefits or risks, it’s always THC that ends up in the spotlight. Star molecule of the cannabinoid family, THC has been demonized, idolized, mis-marketed… in short, way too hyped.

In this issue, let’s debunk its image and perception, because THC isn’t necessarily what you think it is.

The story of THC: between medical hope and criminalization

Cannabis has been part of humanity for millennia. From China to India, through the Middle East, Africa, and the Americas, its medicinal uses were documented long before modern science sought to identify which molecule acted on which symptom.

We had to wait until 1964 for two researchers, Raphael Mechoulam and Yehiel Gaoni, to succeed in isolating tetrahydrocannabinol for the first time. A major discovery, which opened the way to a new understanding of the links between cannabis and the human body.
A new turning point came in the 1980s. American researcher Allyn Howlett identified the first receptor activated by cannabis in the brain, CB1 (cannabinoid receptor 1). And then, logically, one can ask: “Why do we have receptors in our bodies for a plant we’re not supposed to consume?” The answer may be surprising, but these receptors are not made for the cannabis plant; they are made for our own internal molecules called “endocannabinoids” (endo = produced by our organism). What’s fascinating is that our own molecules imitate THC and trigger comparable effects.

And again, you might think that with all this information, the image of cannabis would have evolved… But no. Despite this scientific advance, nothing changes in the law. In the United States, cannabis remains classified as a Schedule I substance, alongside heroin: molecules that “have no recognized medical value.” Absurd, when we know that as early as 1985, THC was approved by the FDA (Food & Drug Administration) in certain medicines.

The problem is, it was authorized under another name. In 1969, the WHO assigned an international nonproprietary name (INN) to tetrahydrocannabinol: Dronabinol. As with N-acetyl-para-aminophenol under the generic name paracetamol, this name was meant to standardize the molecule, whether extracted from the plant or produced in a laboratory. But because the first cannabis-based medicines were synthetic (e.g., Marinol), confusion set in and many believed that dronabinol was not “real THC.”

In reality, there is no difference: natural or synthetic, Delta⁹-tetrahydrocannabinol, THC, is dronabinol. But this ambiguity served prohibitionist logics. The “natural” molecule remained illegitimate while its pharmaceutical version became legal.

All this shows the paradox surrounding cannabis and THC. A molecule capable of regulating pain, appetite, mood, or nausea is treated like a public enemy, not because it is the most dangerous, but because it has become a political scapegoat.

I’ll repeat it for those in the back: the criminalization of cannabis was never about its dangerousness. Not. At. All. Governments around the world have always managed to regulate much more dangerous substances.

Cannabis is a plant that is too versatile: it can feed, house, heal, replace strategic materials… in short, an annoying competitor that had to be pushed aside. In the United States, Richard Nixon himself acknowledged it: the war on cannabis was primarily intended to target Black communities and minorities, not to protect public health. History shows that the real reasons for its prohibition were political, racial, and economic. The political scapegoat used in all countries.

Recent history in France is a revealing example. In 2017, a tragic case marked public opinion. A man, under the influence of psychotic episodes and a cannabis consumer, committed an antisemitic murder. Although expert reports concluded that cannabis had only been a co-factor aggravating pre-existing psychiatric disorders, the incident was instrumentalized to reinforce the image of THC as the principal cause of the act.

The result is that despite hundreds of scientific studies confirming its benefits, THC remains caught between two contradictory images: therapeutic tool on one side, symbol of criminalization on the other.

THC and our body

To deconstruct, to debunk THC’s image, let’s start with two facts that no French institution ever highlights:

• A fatal overdose from cannabis alone is considered extremely unlikely. Most “cannabis deaths” reported in the media confuse simple presence of THC with causality, without specifying dose or co-consumption.

• THC works because it mimics molecules our bodies already produce.

Earlier I mentioned the discovery of receptors in our brain that are activated by cannabis; well, these receptors are throughout our body and are part of a system that allows us to regulate quite a few functions: the famous endocannabinoid system.

When I told you that THC, a phytocannabinoid (phyto : produced by a plant), mimics our own molecules, the endocannabinoids (endo : produced by our body), I was referring to anandamide (nicknamed “the bliss molecule”) and 2-AG. These molecules bind to and activate our cannabinoid receptors spread throughout our body:

• CB1 receptors → brain and central nervous system (cortex, hippocampus, amygdala, cerebellum, hypothalamus, brainstem, spinal cord). They regulate mood, memory, motor function, appetite, perception of pain.

• CB2 receptors → immune system and peripheral tissues (spleen, intestines, skin, bones, immune cells). They regulate inflammation and chronic pain.

This activation creates the following effects: euphoria and relaxation, relief of certain types of pain, stimulation of appetite, reduction of nausea, well-being, joy, happiness, and many other effects that help many consumers in their daily lives.

But the line between benefits and negative effects is thin. The latter appear especially when CB1 receptors are saturated due to excess, very strong cultivars, and intensive use. Not to mention the role of psychiatric predispositions, emotional context, and cardiovascular health.

Anxiety & paranoia

Receptors: mainly CB1. Areas activated: amygdala (center of emotions and fear), prefrontal cortex (thoughts, anticipation). How? At moderate doses, THC can reduce anxiety, but at high doses it saturates CB1 in the amygdala → hyperactivation of fear circuits → anxiety, paranoia. More frequent in people with psychiatric history or genetic vulnerability.

Depersonalization / derealization

Receptors: CB1 in the prefrontal cortex and limbic system (self-perception and emotions). How? Overactivation disrupts sensory integration and self-perception → impression of “leaving one’s body” or that reality is unreal. This is not systematic: it tends to occur with strong, sudden consumption or associated with other factors (fatigue, baseline anxiety, stressful context).

Psychotic episodes (rare but possible)

Receptors: CB1 in the prefrontal cortex and hippocampus (memory, interpretation of reality). How? THC can trigger a disorganization of thought in predisposed individuals (e.g., latent schizophrenia). Important: it’s not cannabis that “creates” schizophrenia, but it can trigger or worsen symptoms in vulnerable profiles.

Vomiting (cannabinoid hyperemesis syndrome)

Receptors: CB1 in the brainstem (area controlling nausea and vomiting) + digestive system. How? In the short term, THC reduces nausea → hence its medical use. But chronic and excessive stimulation reverses the effect and causes uncontrollable vomiting crises (paradoxical, but well documented).

In short, quantity and context matter as much as the molecule. As with paracetamol, morphine, alcohol, or even sugar: it’s all a question of dosage. The difference is that THC has no documented lethal overdose.

Finally, THC never acts alone. Its effects are shaped by the molecules that surround it:

• with CBD, it is modulated, and the negative effects that THC can cause are counterbalanced;

• with certain terpenes (myrcene, limonene, pinene), it becomes more relaxing or more stimulating.

In short, THC is a biological key, but it is not “cannabis.” It is one piece of a larger puzzle.

Microdosing or how to use THC without excess

A question often comes up: “how to consume THC without risking negative effects?” The answer often lies in one word: microdosing.

Microdosing consists of using very small doses of cannabis, sometimes so small that they do not produce any classic “high,” but which are sufficient to slightly activate the endocannabinoid system. Studies show that even at low doses, THC can help reduce stress, anxiety, certain pains, or promote relaxation.

In practice :

• Inhalation: for a beginner, a single puff may be enough to feel the first effects and understand how their body reacts.

• Ingestion (oils, edibles): doses must be even more cautious. Starting at 1–2 mg of THC is enough to perceive mild effects. Not exceeding 5 mg at the start allows you to stay in control and avoid unpleasant reactions (anxiety, discomfort, etc.).

It’s no coincidence that countries legalizing cannabis use the international slogan: “Start low, go slow” (disclaimer: do your research and educate yourself on the subject if you decide to try cannabis… in a country where cannabis is decriminalized, of course)

THC in Guadeloupe: The mirage of percentages

In Guadeloupe, the reality is simple. Nobody really knows what they’re consuming. No flowers are tested in laboratories, no serious analysis is available. Consumers rely on their own markers :smell, taste, perceived potency, to assess quality. We think we’re smoking “strong cannabis,” whereas in reality we inhale a synergy of hundreds of molecules, including THC.

The little “information” circulating mostly comes from the internet or labels on seed packets, or if you’re lucky enough to have a passionate reseller, they’ll sell you a variety under its real name instead of adapting it to the demand. But this knowledge base is fragile: the levels shown by seed banks (“28–32% THC”) are results obtained under their own growing conditions. That in no way guarantees that local harvests will reach the same percentages: genetics, inputs, technique, and environment matter far more than marketing numbers.

Even THC faces capitalism ! A mirage fueled by the cannabis industry itself. In the United States, the race for percentages pushed some laboratories, for a fee, to inflate THC levels. Result: a spiral where consumers demand “30% THC” (even though it’s rare), producers fall in line by paying labs, and the perceived value of a product rests only on a biased number.

In Guadeloupe, this model has contaminated people’s imagination. Many think that quality is measured by this single percentage. Yet recent studies clearly show that the advertised levels are often largely overstated.

This “blind” consumption maintains persistent ignorance, reinforced by the plant’s illegality. Only recently, with the arrival of CBD shops, have some consumers discovered balanced ratios (mixing legal CBD-rich flowers with illegal THC-rich flowers). But most have never experienced other cannabinoids like CBG or THCV, and remain locked into a THC fixation.

Add to this the local drying and storage conditions. In the Caribbean, heat and humidity accelerate the degradation of THC into CBN (cannabinol). It’s this CBN that reinforces the “couch-lock” effect and gives flowers that brownish color. In other words, many are consuming CBN while thinking they’re smoking something “very strong.” Cannabis is a living plant: poorly dried, poorly stored (plastic baggie, exposure to air or light), it loses THC and transforms.

Breaking out of this mirage means accepting an obvious fact: THC isn’t everything. Terpenes, those molecules responsible for aromas and flavors, deeply shape a variety’s effects. For example, if you’re looking for marked physical relaxation, it’s better to target a myrcene-rich cultivar than a flower labeled “30% THC.”

And if you don’t feel anything anymore, it’s probably because your body has built up tolerance, not because the THC level is too low. A break is often the key to rediscovering a cultivar’s real power.

Cannabis is a noble product. Respecting it, means going beyond the mirage of percentages by taking an interest in its provenance, the cultivar’s family tree, and its terpene profile. Only then can we understand what we’re really consuming and appreciate cannabis for what it is, not for an inflated number on a label.

Ignorance Is Bliss: Breaking the Illusion

Dronabinol, THC, Δ⁹-THC, tetrahydrocannabinol… so many names that maintain a deliberate confusion, fueled by the pride of both camps :

• among opponents, who reject science

• among certain consumers, obsessed with a percentage, who reduce cannabis to a single molecule.

This bias is the product of a century of stigmatization which, in the end, forces consumers to focus only on what they have on hand. No diversity, no synergy with THCV or CBG, simply consumption dictated by scarcity and illegality.

In my opinion, the acceptance of medical cannabis is the true gateway to an honest debate. THC is not for everyone (it can be problematic for certain vulnerable profiles), but it also saves lives. As long as decision-makers continue to hammer that “cannabis is crap” while recognizing its therapeutic potential, the paradox will remain intact.

As luck would have it, MILDECA (the French Interministerial Mission for combating Drugs and Addictive Behaviors) has released yet another prevention campaign about cannabis and youth… With no nuance, no real information. They keep maintaining a myth instead of educating. I’ll let you judge for yourself. Here.

That’s it for this issue. THC, dronabinol, remains a complex and fascinating molecule, and there would still be hours more to say. “Ignorance is a bliss,” they say! But should we really remain in ignorance? Especially when it’s a substance that enters the body…?

Yet despite numerous international studies confirming its efficacy for a range of symptoms, France remains overly cautious when it comes to recognizing and implementing medical cannabis.

In this fifth issue of Fil Rouge, I offer a recap of the last four years of experimentation in France, and more importantly, what’s happening here in Guadeloupe. Because many are waiting, but there’s no guarantee that you or your loved ones will have access to this therapeutic alternative.

This issue is based in part on a detailed report by Benjamin-Alexandre Jeanroy (Augur Associates) and Aurélien Bernard (Newsweed) on the state of medical cannabis in France.

What’s happened in France over the last 4 years

Since 2021, France has conducted a regulated trial of medical cannabis involving 3,218 patients distributed across five main therapeutic categories:

• 47% for refractory neuropathic pain

• 21% for painful spasticity

• 15% in palliative care

• 10% for pharmacoresistant epilepsy

• 7% for side effects related to oncology treatments

Medical cannabis is strictly reserved for patients with no remaining treatment options, when they have all failed. This cautious approach reflects a deliberate political stance: move slowly, regulate tightly, and above all, avoid normalizing the substance. The message is subtle but clear: if cannabis has therapeutic value, it must remain a strictly controlled exception.

Just imagine if cannabis could relieve something as common as migraines… oh wait, it surely can !

Products Used:

• Sublingual oils with varying THC/CBD ratios

• Dried flowers for vaporization, delivered in pre-ground form with Storz & Bickel medical vaporizer. Unlike other countries, France intentionally avoids linking inhalation with therapeutic relief, even though vaporization can offer fast-acting benefits. Again, imagine if cannabis could really relieve… a migraine? Oops.

Formulations ranged from CBD-dominant to THC-dominant, including balanced 10:10 products. Dosing began with a titration phase, typically starting at 2.5 mg to 10 mg of THC/day, and up to 50 mg/day of CBD when well tolerated. This measured approach aligns with the global principle: "Start low and go slow.”

The Results:

• 68% of patients reported improved quality of life

• 93% supported the full implementation of medical cannabis access

But a major obstacle hampered the program: very few general practitioners completed the required training module, limiting access to a small number of already-informed specialists. As a result, access was limited and often centralized around specific hospitals.

Still, the trial helped lay the groundwork for a regulated medical cannabis system, scheduled to launch in 2026, with:

• Prescription as a last resort after conventional treatments fail

• Dispensing through hospital pharmacies or specialized designated pharmacies

• Full reimbursement (100%) for patients with long-term conditions (ALD)

• Mandatory training for both prescribers and pharmacists

How to Access It:

• Prescription from a trained physician, within a secure framework

• Patient registration in a national database

• Regular medical follow-ups

• Dispensation via hospital pharmacies or ARS-approved retail pharmacies

• Information access through ARS portals, Ministry of Health websites, patient associations, and trained professionals

Distribution will remain limited to secure, regulated circuits to ensure traceability and compliance.

(reference : État de l’industrie du cannabis médical en France)

Why is Guadeloupe lagging behind?

When France launched its national trial in 2021, some overseas territories took part actively, including Martinique and La Réunion, where prescriptions were written, products dispensed, and professionals trained.

In Martinique, the CHUs Pierre-Zobda-Quittman and Mangot-Vulcin were designated as reference centers. Between 1 and 10 patients were included.

In La Réunion, the CHU of Saint-Denis treated 11 to 50 patients. French Guiana also hosted authorized centers, though figures are less clear.

And Guadeloupe?

While the CHU of Guadeloupe (Pointe-à-Pitre Ricou site) was listed as eligible, no patients were ever included. The lack of a functional hospital at the time and an absence of institutional coordination led to a complete standstill.

Yet several key players will need to mobilize to make the 2026 rollout possible on the island:

• ARS Guadeloupe: must coordinate communication, professional engagement, and public awareness

• CHU Guadeloupe: to initiate prescriptions and supervise training and patient monitoring

• CPAM (Health Insurance): to handle reimbursement and patient administration

• Doctors and specialists: must complete ANSM’s training modules

• Designated pharmacies: will handle cannabis-based product distribution securely

• Public platforms and campaigns: to inform patients and guide them through eligibility and access

Other territories are already ahead. In Guadeloupe, everything still needs to be built: training, outreach, logistics. The urgency is real. This isn’t just about catching up, it’s about making sure patients with no other options finally get access to relief.

What’s coming in the next few months

A pivotal step is now underway in the integration of medical cannabis into France’s healthcare system. The French National Health Authority (HAS) has launched a call for contributions from patient associations and user groups concerned with the five targeted conditions (neuropathic pain, treatment-resistant epilepsy, palliative care, oncology, spasticity).

The goal? To gather real-world patient feedback, expectations, unmet needs, and firsthand experiences. This is key to evaluating the therapeutic value of cannabis-based treatments beyond clinical data alone.

Deadline: September 16, 2025
Some associations will be officially heard in early 2026

In Q1 2026, the Transparency Commission will host:

• Testimonies from the ANSM

• Input from presidents of the scientific advisory committees

• Perspectives from medical societies, healthcare professionals, and patient representatives

This process will lead to the official evaluation of the dossier and eventually the adoption of the final opinion, which will define how medical cannabis will be reimbursed and accessed across France.

In conclusion: A system to build, and a territory to mobilize

While France is still in the early stages of building a true medical cannabis infrastructure, the foundation has been laid. Let’s be honest though, we’re still far from offering broad access to this therapy across the full range of pathologies and symptoms it could help.

There’s a clear political reluctance to normalize cannabis use, even in a medical context. Yet patients haven’t waited for the green light to believe in the therapeutic potential of this plant. Among the many overlooked conditions: chronic pain, endometriosis, fibromyalgia, sickle cell disease, Crohn disease, all of which could benefit from more research and access.

But how do you reintegrate a criminalized substance into public health policy without contradiction? How can we have an honest conversation when institutions are still clinging to outdated narratives? Even logistical issues like driving under treatment remain unresolved, despite similar frameworks in place for other medications (e.g., yellow, orange, or red triangle warnings).

In Guadeloupe, the real work is just beginning. Education, professional training, and public awareness will be crucial. Healthcare professionals must step up, putting aside inherited biases, and refocus on the very essence of their mission: to relieve, to support, and to heal.

It won’t be easy. But it’s necessary.

If one day this treatment can help "relieve" or "improve" the daily life of a mother battling cancer, a farmer uncle suffering from chronic pain, or a friend living with debilitating endometriosis… Don’t you think they deserve to be informed? That their general practitioner should be guiding them? That they should receive reliable, public health information from institutions like Ameli or the national insurance fund ?

Would you dare to talk to your loved one about medical cannabis, even if, for now, it’s still surrounded by silence ?

See you soon !

Information for patient’s associations and groups

Fourth month of Fil Rouge !
Thank you for being here, and welcome to our new subscribers. We’re now 51 readers following this thread, in French and English. That warms my heart.

This month, we’re bringing the focus back home. After exploring the economic power of consumers (and non-consumers) in tourism, we’re turning our attention to local consumers: Guadeloupeans, West Indians, Caribbeans.

Today, we’re talking about you, about us. About your uncle. Your cousin. Your doctor. Your friend who owns a business. Not about the fear-driven clichés we keep seeing in televised debates.
The Guadeloupean cannabis consumer is often forced to hide their use to avoid being labelled a “junkie” or dismissed as an irresponsible person running from life’s challenges.

This month’s Fil Rouge: to give a human, real, and economic face to those who consume.

The Consumer & Their Body: Misunderstood Self-Medication

Let’s break the cliché. Yes, excess exists, but we’re talking about something else here. We’re talking about those many Guadeloupean consumers who approach cannabis consciously. Those who are professionals, entrepreneurs, employees, travelers, parents, elected officials (yes, them too), grandparents, lawyers, doctors… People who incorporate cannabis into their physical and mental well-being as one tool among others to stay grounded and balanced.

In the French West Indies, our relationship with health is unique. We grew up torn between a deep mistrust of the French system, which has poisoned us (chlordécone, overly sweetened products “because, apparently, guadeloupeans love sugar. Right.”), and a profound respect for medicinal plants. The art of combining atoumo (shell ginger), lemongrass, gros thym (Cuban oregano), and thé péyi (bush tea) is in our DNA. And our territory is our sanctuary: hiking through the forests of Petit-Bourg, meditating by a river in Vieux-Habitants, swimming on a hidden beach in Port-Louis… all of this nourishes our mental balance.

So yes, many people choose cannabis as a form of self-medication. Because sometimes, traditional treatments fail, and these consumers prefer to target the root cause rather than just mask the symptoms. Because this plant helps ease anxiety, insomnia, digestive issues, gynecological pain, and many other conditions.

This isn’t some unfounded claim: cannabis was part of the French and American pharmacopoeia until the 20th century (source). Even today, science continues to recognize its therapeutic potential (source). And for those wondering why the cannabis plant is no longer listed in the pharmacopoeia and instead classified as a narcotic, that opens up a much broader conversation about the political, economic, and racial forces that led to its prohibition. A topic we’ll dive into in a future Fil Rouge issue.

Here, cannabis consumers are no less in tune with their bodies than someone who enjoys a glass of wine at the end of the day or eats dairy despite clear intolerance. On the contrary. Some even know when to “take a break” to reset their tolerance and prevent cannabis from becoming counterproductive.
So why underestimate their awareness? Perhaps because we’re so used to judging from a place of ignorance.

The Consumer & Their Social Circle: The Double Stigma

In the French West Indies, there’s an obsession with appearances. In many families, cannabis isn’t up for discussion: if you consume, you’re a “junkie.” Full stop. No nuance, no context. And if family tensions already exist, cannabis becomes a weapon: a way to discredit someone, question their reliability, or blame their parents.

At work, the atmosphere isn’t much better. An employer can take drastic action if they find out an employee consumes in their private life. As a result, many consumers prefer to stay in the shadows. Not necessarily out of fear, but to avoid drama, protect their loved ones, and not disrupt families where every detail eventually gets “aired out in public.” Consumption then becomes a private, almost sacred act, practiced alone or in very small circles, often with a partner or trusted friends, to avoid “making waves.”

Then there are the unapologetic consumers. Those who, while remaining respectful of others, don’t feel the need to hide. They absorb the judgments of their peers, carry the mental burden tied to the image this plant projects… but they keep living, head held high.

And then there are those who choose more discreet methods: infusions, balms, oils. Regular consumers too, yet not often considered “real” cannabis users… because they don’t smoke.
Makes you wonder: is it really cannabis that bothers people, or is it the method of consumption? Too “rasta”? Too delinquent? Too “paro” (a Creole term for junkie)? Who knows.

It’s 2025. Everyone’s getting older. Those same family members who, ten years ago, condemned cannabis outright are now curious to try a THC balm for their aching joints.
Irony? No. Reality. And once again, it’s often up to the consumer, the more mature one, to extend a hand, guiding these loved ones toward discovery, even if that genuine conversation should’ve happened long ago.

In Guadeloupean families, we normalize excessive rum drinking, extramarital affairs, financial irresponsibility… but cannabis? That remains unforgivable. A societal hypocrisy that never made sense.

The Consumer & Their Purchase Journey: Between Shame, Struggle, and Survival

This is where stigma reaches its peak. For many, buying cannabis is seen as no different from venturing into the world of the “paro”, heading to the block to get a mind-altering substance. In their eyes, if you’re willing to take that risk, you must be addicted. Otherwise, you wouldn’t do it. Period. A neat little vicious circle that fits perfectly with the prohibitionist narrative.

And this is precisely where the question of medical cannabis takes on its full meaning. When someone uses cannabis to relieve back pain, migraines, chemotherapy side effects, or simply to relax, it’s absurd that they have to sneak into a “bando” to get it. These consumers are often already vulnerable to varying degrees. The environment only makes the experience more daunting: real safety risks, possible police presence, and for women, an even higher level of anxiety. Let’s not forget: under French law and by extension in Guadeloupe, the consumer (regardless of their situation) is automatically seen as a criminal.

And then, what exactly are you buying? Answer: you don’t know. You take whatever is available. No traceability, no information about the cultivar’s genetics, even though this is crucial for targeting symptoms and managing your experience. The result?

• If the cultivar helps, there’s no way to know its name to buy it again.

• If it doesn’t suit you, the side effects can be overwhelming: anxiety, paranoia, stomach issues, crushing fatigue, dizziness.

This is when you realize why home-growing has become a pillar of cannabis regulation in other countries. Many consumers form small communities to ensure the quality of what they consume and, above all, to create a buying experience that is safer and far less stressful.

The Consumer & Their Economic Power: An Underestimated Actor

The parallel cannabis economy remains a sensitive subject. Some politicians claim that Guadeloupean and French consumers are financing terrorism… all while stubbornly refusing to regulate the plant. The result? The government is shooting itself in the foot: forcing consumers to turn to illegal markets and letting the money slip away.

Yet, a market already exists around cannabidiol (CBD), the non-psychotropic cannabinoid. In France, the CBD sector is projected to reach €1 billion in 2025, with steady annual growth. Over 2,500 specialized shops now offer oils, flowers, teas, cosmetics, and other innovative products. On average, consumers spend €60 to €100 per month on these items, primarily for wellness: stress management, improved sleep, and pain relief. (source)

In Guadeloupe, the CBD market is also well established: around thirty local retailers such as CBD Market Guadeloupe, The Green Kaz, Queen Fairy, are already meeting demand. But the offering remains limited. Experiences built around CBD (workshops, wellness retreats, therapeutic tourism) are almost non-existent. And many shops sell the same imported European products, with little true local value added.

And yet, the Guadeloupean consumer is waiting: eager to invest in a local economy built on cultivation, processing, food products, cosmetics, wellness experiences, and even health tourism.
Imagine a Guadeloupe where the plant creates jobs, strengthens local supply chains, and becomes a source of pride recognized far beyond Caribbean borders.

For now, this underground economy benefits neither the State nor our communities. It remains unacknowledged. Instead, consumers are criminalized: fines, police checks, persistent shaming… all for lighting a joint. The State turns a deaf ear to existing solutions and continues to block these actors from realizing their economic potential.

In Summary: “Look Closely, You Probably Know a Cannabis Consumer”

And they’re certainly not sitting around wondering whether you, a non-consumer but regular drinker, or a married man/woman engaging in extramarital affairs, are a responsible citizen.

Today, across France, and by extension in Guadeloupe, many citizens consume cannabis. Maybe not in the form of a joint, but as a tea, an oil, or a balm for aching joints. These consumers span all ages and all social classes. And for many of them, their consumption is intentional, seen as a tool for well-being rather than an escape from reality.

Of course, excess exists, as with any substance. In my opinion, sugar is far more addictive than cannabis, but no one dares to talk about that. And for those who do overconsume: how can we help them when, on the other hand, speaking positively about cannabis remains a punishable offense?
How do we build smart prevention in a society where any nuance is criminalized?

Personally, I meet countless individuals, truly countless, who want to evolve their consumption (focusing on quality over quantity, exploring alternative methods). But how can we even begin to have that conversation in a prohibitionist state?

This is where the ball is clearly in the government’s court. Because these consumers aren’t asking to be infantilized or punished:

• They’re asking for quality, so they no longer have to buy blindly on the street.

• They’re asking for traceability, to know exactly what they’re consuming and avoid bad experiences.

• They’re asking for personalized guidance, to align their consumption with their bodies and their lives.

• Above all, they’re asking for decriminalization, normalization, and the freedom to choose, in a way that respects their status as adult, responsible citizens.

For now, the system prefers to look away. To remain blind to solutions. To punish instead of guiding.
But how much longer will consumers have to carry the full weight of a conversation the State refuses to open?

This Month’s Bonus: “The Endocannabinoid System – The Forgotten Key to Balance”

I’ll leave you with a few thoughts to reflect on. If you’ve never heard of the endocannabinoid system, don’t worry, you’re not alone. In France, even many doctors have never studied it… so just imagine in Guadeloupe ! And yet, this system is essential for our bodies: sleep, stress, appetite, pain, mood… all of these functions are connected to the endocannabinoid system.

This complex biological network is the key to homeostasis, the state of balance that keeps us healthy. When it falls out of sync, everything can spiral: insomnia, anxiety, weight gain, chronic illnesses…

Here’s a challenge for you: next time you visit your GP or a specialist, ask them if they’ve ever studied the endocannabinoid system.

Spoiler alert: your body is already producing molecules that mimic THC.

Tourism, as surprising as it may seem, is a powerful tool for education, re-education, and destigmatization.

After all, what better way to challenge our beliefs than to witness firsthand how another country treats cannabis?

What was meant to be a simple business trip turned into a field study: cannabis is becoming a tourist marker. Some countries are even turning it into a selling point.

We’ll touch on medical and wellness tourism, two rapidly expanding segments. But here, I want to focus on the most misunderstood: recreational cannabis tourism. Even within this niche, there are levels, nuances, and very different dynamics.

1. The Economic Impact of Cannabis on Tourism

When people hear "cannabis tourism," they often imagine a euphoric consumer, joint in hand, dancing at a festival. But the reality is far more structured and strategic.

Behind this still-emerging niche lies a growing industry driven by diverse audiences, clear motivations, and strong purchasing power.

The Travel Segment study by MMGY Travel Intelligence reveals a key figure: 72 million Americans identify as travelers motivated by cannabis-related experiences.

And here’s the most surprising part:

24% of them don’t even consider themselves cannabis users. They want to visit farms, learn about therapeutic uses, immerse themselves in the culture but not necessarily consume. This is a new profile: the cannabis-curious traveler.

Extrapolated to Europe, that’s an audience of 161 million people.

Who are these motivated travelers? Three key groups emerge

• Connoisseurs: Passionate about strain diversity, quality, and effects. For them, cannabis is part of a lifestyle, like wine or cigars.

• Wellness seekers: Drawn to wellness retreats, alternative therapies, and new ways of healing involving cannabis.

• Patients: Seeking concrete medical solutions, often after failed traditional treatments. Many are willing to travel for months to restore their health.

A Multi-Layered Economic Engine

The economic impact of cannabis tourism goes far beyond purchasing flower or accessories:

• Primary impact: Direct spending (accommodation, events, products, dining).

• Indirect impact: Suppliers, logistics, local labor.

• Induced impact: Wages that are reinvested in the local economy.

2. Two Cities, Two Vibes, Two Visions of Recreational Cannabis Tourism: A Field Report

At first glance, recreational cannabis tourism might seem like pure leisure or a search for a psychedelic escape. But on the ground, the picture is far more complex, often blending business, culture, networking, and research.

🇩🇪Berlin: Professional Leisure, Between Networking and Innovation

My first European expo, my first time in Berlin (even though I was convinced I'd been there as a kid... turns out it was Cologne, thanks bro).

Yes, I was a tourist, but I came for industry insights, networking, and sector intelligence. Recreational, yes, but with a business focus.

ICBC Berlin hosted over 3,500 attendees, more than 6,000 hotel nights, visitors from 80 countries, and high-level partners like the Estrel Hotel.

Five highlights:

Brands and Innovations

• Storz & Bickel (creators of the Volcano) offered vaporizer demos in the consumption lounge.

• Melt-to-Make: A modular solution revolutionizing edible manufacturing for gummy producers.

• Dr. Ansay: A healthcare platform connecting patients to pharmacies for medical cannabis access.

• Abstrax Tech: The team I absolutely had to meet. Not for their products but for their deep research on the plant’s olfactory compounds. Their scientific documentation? A true goldmine.

Transcontinental Encounters

• Mary, founder of Coast 2 Coast Consulting, told me about her work with the Japanese government on hemp and CBD regulation.

• Youri, fellow Caribbean native from Saint Martin, runs a CBD lounge in Bratislava, Slovakia.

• Alex, founder of ICBC, approachable and curious. This is an event where doors open quickly.

Conference Highlights

From genetics and extraction to logistics and policy, every angle was covered. ICBC sits at the intersection of business tourism, curiosity, and accelerated learning.

Cannabis Access in Berlin

Local access wasn’t easy, but many delivery apps offer smooth access to medical cannabis.

I sampled imported cultivars (from Canada and Switzerland): Crispy Doughnut, Medellín, Chemdawg, Mimosa Orange Punch. And the edibles? Rosin-infused, mango and chocolate flavors. (Rosin is a solventless cannabis concentrate.)

Not just about smoking. It’s about discovery, analysis, comparison.

A Final Immersion: Berlin Cannabis Tour

After two packed days of conferences, I was glad my flight was later in the evening, which allowed me to join a guided tour led by Alex Revich (a former Toronto colleague who taught me a lot about the industry).

Under a surprisingly strong sun, about 20 professionals from around the world gathered to see Berlin through a new lens:

• Key monuments

• Historical landmarks

• And the Hanf Museum (Hemp Museum), entirely dedicated to cannabis.

The museum explores cannabis through different cultures and time periods, highlighting key milestones in Germany's legalization process. In the basement: a cozy lounge for tea, joints, and last-minute networking.

One final connection moment before I (actually) got lost in the Berlin transit system.

🇪🇸Barcelona: Cultural Leisure, Between Art, Heritage, and Community

Barcelona was something else. What I thought would be a laid-back trip turned into a deep dive into history, art, and social dynamics. It left me eager to return.

Two venues, two experiences

La Crème Gràcia – Cannabis at the Heart of History

In this Gràcia neighborhood social club, I discovered The Grand History of Cannabis: a mural depicting 500 years of Mexican cannabis history, brought to life by club manager Stéphane, interdisciplinary researcher Kenzi Riboulet Zemouli (whose work is essential for protecting cultural heritage and traditional knowledge), and artist Mossy Giant.

We discussed heritage protection, public policy, and club regulation.

An impressive selection of THC and CBD flowers, plus concentrates: hash, dry sift, and rosin. My rosin initiation? Modified Grapes, consumed via a special inhaler. Highly potent, definitely not for beginners.

NPK Social Club – Productive Lifestyle

Located in La Plata, the name immediately caught my attention: NPK (Nitrogen, Phosphorus, Potassium) the foundation of any serious grow.

Indoor/outdoor spaces, a clean yet warm aesthetic, comfy seating, and a non-alcoholic bar. I enjoyed a moringa tea and reconnected with my rituals. Perfect for creatives, remote professionals, or friends catching up after work.

Two strains tested: Tropical Cherry and Tutti Gelato.

A place to think, work, reflect... and consume without stress.

Here, cannabis is a tool for decompression and productivity.

3. Caribbean Cannabis Tourism: Honoring Heritage, Structuring the Future

When we speak of cannabis in the Caribbean, the Western imagination often defaults to the red-yellow-green palette, Rastas, and reggae.

But beyond these stereotypes lies a rich history, valuable genetics, and a deep cultural connection to the plant that must be preserved. Erasing our identity for the sake of sanitizing tourism and attracting new consumers would be a loss.

Identity vs. Standardization: Finding Balance

Canada is a clear example: Apple Store-style dispensaries, strains renamed Rise, Sleep, Balance... all part of a strategy to cleanse cannabis's image.

A desire for purity, visual neutrality, and comforting conformity for new audiences.

The Caribbean cannot take that route without losing its soul.

Travelers aren’t coming here for a tropical version of California. They’re coming for authenticity, warmth, nature, rivers, beaches, and living culture.

Local genetics, often less focused on THC levels, are prized by connoisseurs for their cannabinoid and terpene profiles, regenerative and syntropic cultivation methods, and deep roots in the land.

The challenge: Create a coherent cannabis tourism offer that elevates heritage without diluting it, while still meeting international market standards.

Three Segments, Three Applicable Dynamics for the Caribbean

1.Medical Tourism

This audience already exists: chronic or post-op patients seeking alternative treatments. What they need:

• Qualified doctors

• Lab-tested, safe products

• A solid regulatory framework

• Transparent information

They are the same type of traveler who heads to Cuba for surgery or Turkey for dental work. They won’t tolerate amateurism.

2.Wellness Tourism

A different promise:

• Healing retreats

• Yoga, locally based nutrition, microdosing

• Moments of reconnection, often in nature

But again, high standards are a must. A postcard setting won't be enough. This segment targets discerning, globally-aware consumers.

3.Recreational Tourism

The most accessible in the short term, and the one where Caribbean cultural identity can shine. Farm tours, Rastafarian heritage experiences, tastings, infused culinary events, art shows, after-parties in dreamlike settings...

But for this to work, we must move past the informal:

• Thoughtful storytelling

• Product traceability

• A full customer experience: from airport pickup to sunset sessions at the dispensary

Conclusion – Cannabis Tourism as a Mirror of a Changing World

Berlin, Barcelona, the Caribbean. Three regions. Three approaches. One reality: cannabis is reshaping the tourism map.

This isn’t just about lighting up in a cool setting.
It’s about choosing destinations for how they treat the plant, for their ability to offer a respectful, legal, educational, and culturally grounded experience.

Cannabis tourism isn’t just a trend. It’s a window into markets, identities, and histories.

The Caribbean has much to gain from this opportunity but not at any cost.

The key will be how well local communities can protect, structure, and transmit their heritage while adapting to a shifting global audience.

Because successful cannabis tourism isn’t just about the trip.

It’s about building bridges between cultures, economies, and narratives.
And the Caribbean is uniquely positioned to write its own story.

Cannabis tourism won’t be uniform. It will be medical, wellness, recreational but also political, economic, and cultural. It will reward those who know how to structure, regulate, and tell the story.

I leave you with the panel: Cannabis & Hemp Tourism as an Engine for Growth and Differentiation, a rich discussion exploring these segments with some of the most respected voices in the industry.

Somewhere in the world, on April 20th, imagine yourself sinking into a comfortable armchair.
A Caribbean Lounge atmosphere. A few string lights suspended above, casting a soft glow. A warm breeze brushes against your skin, carrying a fruity, herbal scent that feels instantly familiar. In the distance, the legendary Street Vybz Riddim starts to play.

Then, gently, the effects from your infused meal — an hour ago — begin to rise.
Around you, people of all ages and backgrounds lean into the moment. No judgment. Just laughter. A shared awareness of being present, together, in a space where cannabis is understood, celebrated, and lived.

You smile — not just from a simple high, but because the vibe feels right.

This is what 420 can look like in places where consumption is regulated, recognized, and embraced.
And if you’ve experienced it before, that smile will feel familiar.
If you haven’t yet — it’s never too late to book a flight.
There are places where cannabis isn’t consumed in shame, but in the light.

But why 420, really?

April 20th has become the international day for cannabis celebration.
"Four Twenty," referring to the U.S. date format (4/20). Its origins remain fuzzy — police codes, stoner traditions, or Californian folklore — it doesn’t really matter. The number became a date. And the date, a global event.

Each year, April 20th highlights cultural, political, and economic dimensions of cannabis.
It reveals how a plant can shape a society — and how a society can choose to either ignore it… or build something around it.

Cannabis generates value. A lot of it.

Behind the sweet scent, the colorful festivals, and the tie-dye t-shirts lies something real:
Data. Jobs. Local growth.

Take Colorado, a pioneer in cannabis regulation. The study Assessing Economic Impacts of the Mile High 420 Festival in Colorado highlighted the event’s impact in 2018. That year, the state recorded:

• 25,650 visitors

• $51.7 million in direct spending

• $95 million in total economic impact (including indirect and induced effects)

• 787 jobs created from a single event

These festivals are no longer side notes. They’ve become economic engines — fueling a new kind of tourism: focused on experience, culture, wellness, and mindful consumption.

Four Twenty in the Caribbean

The potential is undeniable: ideal climate, rich culture, globally recognized music, vibrant cuisine, and ancestral knowledge of the plant...

Some territories are starting to position themselves.

In Jamaica, dispensaries like Jacana in Ocho Rios or Island Strains in Montego Bay host after-parties and concerts with ocean views — blending good vibes and community.
In Antigua, the Wadadli Festival honors cannabis through concerts, artisan markets, cannabis cups, medical panels, and a spotlight on Rastafari communities.

These events go beyond the plant — they celebrate a way of life, a circular economy, and a shifting collective identity.

Because cannabis isn’t just something to smoke. It’s a vehicle for identity, for storytelling, for transmission.

But before we talk economic models, let’s talk about usage.

Intentional. Safe. Respectful.

420 is also an opportunity to promote good practices. Because consuming mindfully, today, is already an act of responsibility.

The Ultimate Guide to Conscious 420:

• Hydrate. Water is your best ally.

• Eat. Before, during, and after. It’s not just a precaution — it’s part of the experience.

• Choose your environment wisely. A safe space, a kind circle — it shapes everything.

• "MÉTRIZÉ TCHAD AW." (the kreyol version of Control your high.) You have nothing to prove. Go slow. Breathe. Align your vibe with intention.

What if it’s more than a celebration?

Something to experience without shame. To live with intention. To embrace as a lever for future growth.

Cannabis is transforming our societies. It’s forcing conversations we’ve long avoided. It’s reshaping economic models.

And in the Caribbean — a region of resilience, history, and knowledge — this plant could become a catalyst for inclusive, regenerative, and structured growth.

But that depends on us.

Will we keep looking the other way… or decide that this plant finally deserves the place it has always earned?

See you soon for the next chapter.

As a Guadeloupean, Caribbean woman, and lifelong dancehall lover — the sounds of Street Vybz Riddim are legendary. I couldn’t end this without sharing a special 420 playlist, which I hope brings you joy, rhythm, and the perfect soundtrack to your day.

*References : Assessing Economic Impacts of Mile High 420 Festival in Colorado by Soo Kang, Rebecca Hill, Dawn Thilmany.

Department of Hospitality and Event Management, Colorado State University, Fort Collins, CO 80521, USA. Office of Engagement and Extension, Colorado State University, Fort Collins, CO 80521, USA. Department of Agriculture and Resource Economics, Colorado State University, Fort Collins, CO 80521, USA

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Today, it has nearly disappeared, erased by time, repressive policies, and the criminalization of growers who, under different circumstances, would be the rightful guardians of this heritage.
And yet, its name lives on. A symbol. A legacy. A story that refuses to be erased.

I chose to name this newsletter Fil Rouge in honor of the genetic line that fascinates me, and of the cultivar that managed to express the very best of itself thanks to our Guadeloupean terroir. I believe genetics are the future of the cannabis industry. While there is currently an unimaginable number of cannabis varieties, a niche market is increasingly focused on the preservation of certain strains. Just like with wine, some genetics will become rare and highly sought-after treasures.

It’s in that spirit that Fil Rouge was born, a monthly newsletter dedicated to the destigmatization of cannabis. Because it’s time to open our eyes. To question. To understand.

I’m part of a generation that grew up witnessing the criminalization of cannabis and its consumers. The myths surrounding the plant, now proven false or wildly exaggerated, were repeated endlessly by governments wanting to maintain the demonized image of cannabis. Let’s take a concrete example. Do you remember the classic line: “Cannabis destroys brain cells”? A phrase repeated over and over again for decades, treated as undeniable truth. And yet, in 2017, during a networking event hosted by Women Grow in Times Square, New York, I discovered CBD, cannabidiol, a molecule derived from cannabis. That day, I learned that many American football players, frequently suffering from concussions, were using it to “heal.” (Some words are still taboo when associated with cannabis, but I’m simply describing what’s already happening in the U.S.) Why? Because contrary to popular belief, science now shows that certain cannabis compounds may actually help slow the degeneration of brain cells. Ironic, isn’t it?

This gap between myth and reality is something many of us have experienced.
Our parents, Caribbean, but also “French”, often told us that cannabis belonged in the same category as hard drugs, without ever questioning the nuance. And yet they grew up surrounded by medicinal plants, herbal remedies, and traditional knowledge. But fear, institutional messaging, and stigma took over.

Today, those long-held beliefs are crumbling, one by one. And what’s being rediscovered isn’t a threat, but a plant that is complex, rich, and full of potential, for health, for industry, and for local development.

The cannabis industry is growing rapidly around the world. In North America, in Europe, but also in Africa and the Caribbean, the conversation is shifting. Economics, culture, medicine, technology, law, public safety, Fil Rouge will take you, each month, into the heart of the challenges and opportunities of a plant that has been demonized for far too long.

But destigmatizing cannabis isn’t just about stating the obvious. It also means recognizing our past mistakes. Acknowledging that we were wrong about many things. Accepting that the future of cannabis won’t be built without real education, and without understanding the markets that are evolving right before our eyes. Unfortunately, for decades, in Guadeloupe as elsewhere, we often stayed on the surface, never truly grasping the depth of the subject.

Through this newsletter, I offer a personal perspective on Guadeloupean society, and the hope that this plant will finally be understood for what it is. Fil Rouge is about starting honest conversations and confronting uncomfortable truths. It’s also a way of affirming that we have a place in this growing global industry. It’s time to move past the lies, and make room for education and understanding of this criminalized plant.

Because the Caribbean and Africa must not remain passive spectators in this green revolution. They have a role to play. A future to build.

So, are you ready to pull on this Fil Rouge and see where it leads us?