Today we decided to attend the 43rd annual Carabana Festival. A celebration I assume to be the Carribean equivilent of the Folies Bergère. Seemed like a good idea at the time. And I am sure the other roughly one million revellers, thought it to be a good idea as well. I must admit I hate crowds and I hate loud music. But I like food and with that in mind we headed out to partake in the celebration. So we walk about a mile to the subway station; wait in line for a bus with everyone else still thinking this is a good idea; hop a very crowded bus again with all the others and then walk another few kilometres only to be met by the masses and wait for a parade that even now I can't be sure if we saw the beginning or the end of. Sorry my self inflicted headache prevents me from ending this sentence with anything other than a preposition. Ok I guess I'm just not the Carabana type. There's something about seeing so many police officers patrolling the area on land and water that made me think at any moment all hell was about to break loose. But in my head it already had. The day wasn't a total loss. The food was awesome. So too were the costumes. And every so often we were lucky enough to walk behind many patrons of whom we could only assume were under the care of a physician since they all seemed to have been prescribed medicinal marijuana for whatever was ailing them. How nice for them they were able to attend the event.
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