A Monkey in a Backpack

29 January 2006
For those of you who chose not to attend the social forum because you fear being surrounded by preachy ideologues and endless panel discussions on neo-liberalism, you will be heartened to know that after dark the party in Caracas is just beginning.  As I type the sounds of Salsa music are floating through the pressroom, while tireless journalists rush to finish copy before they head off in search of cerveza.  Despite the rain, the Brazilians had a rousing affair last night (complete with conga lines and spirited American counterparts).  Parque Central has had non-stop live music where forumistas and the locals mingled to reggeton, merengue, salsa, and even hip-hop.   But the real experience comes from the Casa Cuba where the dance party keeps going till . . . well I don't know.  They are going long past this blogger has retired to her luxury accommodations at the Hotel Pinar.
I recently learned from my Colombian counterpart that saying you are like "a monkey in a backpack" is an appropriate euphemism for describing boredom.  It is with this kernel of cultural knowledge that I suggest partying with your fellow man can be as productive as an anti-imperialist discussion.  And if the monkey gets a little exercise, that wouldn't be terrible.
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