Marichy is officially the queen of Barranquilla.
Friday night the Carnival Queen was coronated with much pomp and a dash of circumstance. Entering the event with a press pass under the auspices of Barranquilla Council of Guys Who Do Not Question Gringo Activities, four of us were able to get right up to the front with our pair of five hundred dollar camcorders to "report on the activities" for the free world. FppInternational Corp. has gracefully agreed to cover all expenses except beer, transportation and lost/damaged cameras.
So we got into the coronation, watched the dancers, took lotsa video, but scant pics, and found a reason to hope for the future under a new queen and the prospect of a long, fruitful reign.
The night was full of pagentry and feathers and dancing, and girls wearing little feathery little costumes and bodypaint and sparklies.
Three-quarters of our crack international journalistic team voted the night "a raging success for demonstrating the viability and necessity of the fourth estate." I was unable to cast my dissent, however, as I was in the porta-john.
Not really too much to say beyond that.
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