Thursday, March 11, 2010

Choices

DeeMack sends us news of the death of Robert McCall, the so-called "Picasso of the Space Age". My fellow space nerds may recognize some of his work:



Last night, I was a proud participant in one of the "Climate Justice Teach-Ins" that are peppering campuses across North America. Thanks to all who came out, and to my fellow professors who represented climate change perspectives in social science and chemical engineering.

I've written about Climate Change issues in this space many times before: here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here and here.

I laid bare my anti-green lifestyle in my article about mass drivers and power satellites. It's not that I don't believe that ecological responsibility is better and more moral, it's just that I am weak and selfish.

More to the point, there's a common environmentalist attitude that I'd like to take issue with. Very often, the onus is placed on the common citizen to transcend his so-called greed and his innate tendency to make decisions that are immediately and personally beneficial in favour of options that are, presumably, better for society on the whole.

For instance, the choices not to drive, or to turn off more lights, or to eat locally grown foods, are considered ecologically superior choices because they impel lighter carbon footprints. The problem, of course, is that it's hard to walk rather than to drive. It's inconvenient to turn out more lights and to huddle under blankets rather than to turn up the heat. And it's more expensive to buy many local products, rather than to rely on cheaper, foreign-made products. I mean, there's a reason we Ontarians import our salads from California: somehow, they manage to get it to us more cheaply than do the farmers down the road.

The reason they are able to do so cheaper is that many such products and practices are subsidized, eithr directly by government programs, or indirectly through the weirdness of our economic system. For instance, the deleterious ecological impact of the CO2 emissions of the trucks used to transport my salad from California does not show on the price of the actual salad; the so-called "commons" of group environmental ownership absorbs these immense costs which, on most accounting sheets, only shows up as something economists call "externalities".

So environmentalists' call for individuals to make these extraordinary choices is in fact an appeal to the human animal to regularly choose options that are, in the immediate and tangible sense, disadvantageous to said individual. We are not very good at making such decisions. For proof of this, all we have to do is look at the global obesity epidemic. We would rather choose the fatty foods for short term pleasure, than the healthy foods for long term health, even though we all know what we should choose.

I've been trying to think of an historical example of an instance in which a society deliberately chose an option that was immediately economically deleterious because it was more moral to do so. The only one I can think of is Britain's decision to abandon slavery in the 1830s. This was a remarkable moment in world history: the call to dissolve the British slave trade was, to the best of my knowledge, the result of the British people's moral choice to distance themselves from a practice that, while immensely profitable, was nonetheless distasteful. For some decades afterwards, they paid an economic price, as goods such as sugar became harder to produce without paying labourers to replace free slave toil.

So what am I trying to say? I'm saying that environmentalist appeals for voluntary changes in individual behaviour are bound to fail on a large scale, because it is not reasonable to expect the common man to make decisions on a regular basis that are economically disadvatageous to himself and his family.

The solution has to be a governmental one and a macro-economic one. Specifically, governments must decide that products and behaviours must bear the real financial price that they truly represent. My California salad cannot be cheaper than my Ontario salad, because the price of the former must reflect the price of the gas to transport it, and the price of the ecologic damage caused by said gas. In this way, when individuals are compelled to make choices that are not only moral but economically wise, a behavioural change of sufficient magnitude may be effected to result in genuine gains in the battle against Climate Change.

End of sermon.

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Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Meh

So I was in the elevator of my building the other day when an old lady walked in. We chatted. Then she asked for my profession. "I'm a professor at the University of Ottawa," I said.

"Really?" said she. "My grandson is also a professor!"

"Oh?" I said. "What does he teach?"

"He teaches grade 7 at Nepean public school!"

Tht's great. Just great.

In other news, one of my students (you reading this, Jenny?) recently bought a used copy of my first book off the Internet from a source in the USA. When she gave it to me to sign, I was surporised to discovered that I had already signed it... ten years ago! Not only had I signed it, I had added a personalized note to the ingrate who clearly did not appreciate my efforts.

I have vague recollections of who it was: some British balloonist. Seriously, a balloonist.

Well, I got over my huffiness and have since learned to appreciate the synchronicity that brought my signed book back into my hands ten years later.

In yet more "other" news, last week I woke up with mysterious bloody claw marks on my left shoulder. The obvious explanation is that I did it myself, in my sleep, but I bite my nails and barely have any left! I doubt my stubby little nails could have done this:



The rabble on Facebook thinks these are stretch marks. They are not. They are scabbed over scratches. The mystery persists.

What else? Nuthin'. Oh yeah, apparently I'm speaking at the Climate Justice "Teach-in" tonight at the University of Ottawa campus. Check out my news link for details.




Now, despite what the image suggests, I will not be having underage girls on my lap. Nor will I be dressed as Uncle Sam.

Oh, and apropos of nothing.... today is Osama bin Laden's birthday. Make of it what you will.

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Tuesday, March 09, 2010

"Weekly" Twitter Tweets


Weekly Twitter tweets from deonandan, since:2010-03-01




(Note: the new #fb hashtag indicates that that post was selectively reproduced on Facebook)


Gots to find me some international women to celebrate today. #fb
Mar 8, 2010 08:39 PM GMT


I didn't watch the Oscars or most of the films, but I do know that Kathryn Bigelow is full of MILFY goodness. #fb
Mar 8, 2010 03:14 PM GMT


Back to having just 2 hours of sleep. All is normal again. #fb
Mar 8, 2010 12:14 PM GMT


:Twitter haiku 254 - "Name of a guide book / On Indian etiquette: / 'Hindus and Hin-don'ts'" #fb
Mar 8, 2010 01:58 AM GMT


3 nights in a row of 6+ hours of sleep. Gotta change that tonight!
Mar 7, 2010 01:07 PM GMT


:Twitter haiku 253 - "Scam artist was caught / Spent jail time writing novel / Called it, 'Prose and Cons'" #fb
Mar 7, 2010 02:07 AM GMT


An airline is now following me on Twitter. I don't know how to feel about this #fb
Mar 6, 2010 04:36 AM GMT


Woke up with creepy Freddy Krueger-style scratches on my shoulders. And yes, I slept alone. #fb
Mar 5, 2010 05:12 PM GMT


post-funeral drunk is the worst kind of drunk :( #fb
Mar 5, 2010 06:48 AM GMT


thanks to porter air, i am now used to being in a permanent drunken state while flying #fb
Mar 4, 2010 08:53 PM GMT


Question for Google calendar: why did you delete all my appointments from Aug/09 to Dec/09? Just curious. #fb
Mar 4, 2010 05:30 AM GMT


I've lost 2 inches off my biceps. I found them again, though... on my waist. #fb
Mar 3, 2010 05:03 PM GMT


testing the selective twitter2facbook app #fb
Mar 3, 2010 01:49 AM GMT


:Twitter haiku 252 - "Caucasian parents / Failed to get Chinese baby / Two Whites don't make Wong"
Mar 3, 2010 01:23 AM GMT


do they actively cast the dumbest people for the Amazing Race?
Mar 3, 2010 12:32 AM GMT


Going forward, we need to touch base to incentivise our holistic approach to shifting paradigms. http://bit.ly/bN53K1 (expand)
Mar 2, 2010 09:06 PM GMT


Glad to know it would take 141.82 shots of espresso to kill me. Not quite there yet. http://bit.ly/afpP4p (expand)
Mar 2, 2010 06:20 PM GMT


Watching UFC 110. No nationalism, uniforms or jingoism, just grown men engaged in wholesome homoerotic violence
Mar 2, 2010 02:42 AM GMT


got a freaky craving for canned corned beef
Mar 1, 2010 09:08 PM GMT

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Monday, March 01, 2010

"Weekly" Twitter Tweets


Weekly Twitter tweets from deonandan, since:2010-02-20





Another brutal all-nighter done... but with two lectures and one complete CIHR application done on time!
Mar 1, 2010 12:33 PM GMT


Tonight's late night snack: ravioli stuffed with broccoli, with red pepper tomato sauce and a snifter of the finest, smuggled Guyanese rum
Mar 1, 2010 03:55 AM GMT


Today's lunch: two peanut butter, jelly & banana sandwiches on ancient bread, quinoa porridge with maple syrup, and SIX espressos.
Feb 28, 2010 07:16 PM GMT


The ultimate productive background music is Buddha Bar vol 21
Feb 28, 2010 04:46 PM GMT


Waiting to give my speech at Guyana Independence event... must... stay... sober...
Feb 28, 2010 01:07 AM GMT


Proud new owner of a murphy bed!
Feb 27, 2010 09:10 PM GMT


5:AM and cleaning my condo to the strains of the Buddha Bar
Feb 27, 2010 11:01 AM GMT


why bother making a medical appointment when they make you wait for an hour anyway?
Feb 26, 2010 03:16 PM GMT


Just spent 20 min karate chopping frozen slabs of bacon in half. Seriously, LOADS of fun!
Feb 25, 2010 09:42 PM GMT


Good morning, epidemiologiy students. It's midterm time! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Feb 25, 2010 02:00 PM GMT


Tonight's midnight snack: peanut butter, banana and maple syrup sandwiches
Feb 25, 2010 04:33 AM GMT


Gawd, how I dislike the Olympics.
Feb 25, 2010 04:24 AM GMT


Jeez... my favourite early Bowie song ("Width Of A Circle") is now 40 years old. I now feel very old.
Feb 25, 2010 01:32 AM GMT


Whatever happened to the "indoor voice"? #FB
Feb 25, 2010 12:37 AM GMT


:Twitter haiku 251 - "Bill Cosby when young / Once couldn't find his way home / He was a lost Coz"
Feb 24, 2010 03:43 AM GMT


My awesomeness knows no bounds.
Feb 24, 2010 01:34 AM GMT


I'm sure I'm not the only one enjoying the fashionable return of ultra-tight pants. (No, not on me. Sigh.)
Feb 23, 2010 03:42 PM GMT


Auuuughhh! My students claim I have noticeably more grey hair than just a week ago!!!!
Feb 22, 2010 07:32 PM GMT


:twitter haiku 250 - "NHL players / Who skip their practice sessions / Playing ice hookey"
Feb 22, 2010 04:10 PM GMT · from mobile web · Reply · View Tweet


WILL THE WORK NEVER END?!!!
Feb 22, 2010 12:58 PM GMT


Was there some sort of hockey thing going on today?
Feb 22, 2010 03:42 AM GMT

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Sunday, February 28, 2010

Bread And Circuses


Apparently there was a hockey game tonight, something to do with the Olympics. Judging from the noise on the street outside, I gather the favoured team won.

I don't really care. Seriously, I don't care.

I don't begrudge any of you your joy; that is your right. This post is not about me being a curmudgeon and wanting the noisy people outside to quiet down so I that can finish writing the grant that's due tomorrow. People need to celebrate occasionally; I get that. Rather, this is about something a bit more disturbing.

Last week, back when the Canadian men's hockey team lost to the Americans (or so I'm told; I didn't watch it), the great national soul-searching that resulted was rather sickening. One particular Toronto newspaper had on its cover, in 4 centimetre high red letters, "OUR NATIONAL PRIDE IS AT RISK," or something like that. What followed were 6-10 pages of sports coverage and endless analysis about whether Canada would be able to rise above the shame of having a group of its favoured millionaire adolescents lose at a game.

All right. Fair enough. Whatever. I watch cartoons, German porn and reality TV. I'm in no position to pretend to be more sophisticated or enlightened.

But we are a lucky society indeed if our "national shame" is defined by a game. You know what else happened over the same time period that this "national shame" was getting 'round-the-clock coverage? The public supplement to the Iacobucci Report was released.

The Iaocobucci Inquiry's report is an official study of the complicity of the Canadian government in the illegal detainment and torture of Canadian citizens Abdullah Almalki, Ahmad Abou-Elmaati and Muayyed Nureddin. You can read it at www.iacobucciinquiry.ca.

Not surprising to any of us familiar with the present government's xenophobic tendencies, the Iacobucci Inquiry found that "Canadian officials likely contributed" to the "mistreatment and torture" of the named individuals. I won't go into the details of how they contributed; you can read that bit yourself.

But here's the thing: In the thorough, brow-wiping analysis of our gripping "national shame" (i.e., hockey game) that the aforementioned newspaper examined with such gravitas, was there a single mention of the Iacobucci report or its findings? None that I could see. In fact, I barely heard tell of it any of the mainstream media outlets that I follow, whereas discussion of the hockey game has been fairly overwhelming.

In this same period, a UN report on the status of women found that Canada had dropped from 10th place to 73rd place worldwide, among nations striving for the equality of women.

In this same period, Canada still has a prorogued Parliament, quite contrary to the overwhelming desire of the populace. Yet, our "hard working" Prime Minister can be seen nightly in the stands of the Olympics in his ridiculous red-and-white sweater, mouthing the national anthem. Get back to work, ya bum!

So you'll forgive me if I'm not filled with "national pride" right now. You'll forgive me if I'm not inspired to wave the Canadian flag and hoot and holler down the street with the rest of the revellers. I have a hard time swallowing the pablum of manufactured patriotism while no one seems to care that the same society that produces millionaire medal-winning hockey players also formally engages in the criminal torture of its own citizens, the degradation of the status of its women, the cynical stymying of its Parliament, and yet suffers no repercussions for this transgression.

Bread and circuses indeed.

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Sunday, February 21, 2010

Extra Bits of Tid

Just some housekeeping notes today:

My latest India Currents article, "Advantage India", was picked up and syndicated by New American Media under the title, "Why India Has An Advantage Over China".

The photos from my most recent trip to Guyana --described in this recent blog post-- are now posted over on Flickr.com. Here's a taste:



It's a photo of a government- or NGO-sponsored mural drawn on the famous Georgetown sea wall. The funny part is that they left out the "c" in "choose" and no one seems to have noticed.

And here's a video of the manatees in the botanical gardens:



The sad part is that their waters are polluted, even there in the park, with pop bottles and other trash thrown in. And due to drought, the levels of of their small pond are not being well maintained.

Depressed yet?

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"Weekly" Twitter Tweets


Weekly Twitter tweets from deonandan, since:2010-02-14





uh oh... emceeing a wedding and I have jungle belly!
Feb 20, 2010 10:31 PM GMT

:Twitter haiku 249 - "Failed boxer turns tricks / Gives sloppy fellatio / Takes it on the chin"
Feb 20, 2010 12:33 PM GMT

Wahhh! I have a cold!
Feb 20, 2010 11:46 AM GMT

Just walked off a plane from the jungle to Ottawa and headed to a formal dinner. I love my life.
Feb 19, 2010 10:39 PM GMT · from mobile web · Reply · View Tweet

Trinidad airport has free wifi. Why can't Canadian airports be so progressive?
Feb 19, 2010 12:14 PM GMT

Weirdness: internet cafe in a Guyanese frontier town, with Bollywood music blaring everywhere.
Feb 15, 2010 07:06 PM GMT

On a 2 hr speedboat ride down the Essequibo river, with the loud engine drowning out my rendition of Journey songs. #fb
Feb 15, 2010 04:09 PM GMT

Today's late night snack: steamed broccoli and cashews. And rum.
Feb 15, 2010 03:33 AM GMT

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Thursday, February 18, 2010

Missives From Guyana

Feb 16 - Bethany, Guyana

It is Feb 16 and I've been back in Guyana for almost 4 days. As I write this, I am huddled under a mosquito net, recognizing the keyboard keys by the illumination afforded by my headlamp, and sweltering in heat that feels like 35 degrees or so. It is 9pm in Bethany in region 2, and I am presently visiting a clean, organized medical mission run by 7th Day Adventist missionaries. I expected to be sleeping on an open deck, knife clutched for fear of nocturnal aggressive dogs and other such creatures. Instead, the mission has given me a luxurious private bungalow in which to spend the night.

Luxurious is a relative term, of course. This is still mostly rainforest. My bed is shielded by a mosquito net. But all types of creepy crawlies are being drawn to the glow of the computer screen, and the net is now crawling with life. Oh, and there's a family of frogs living in my toilet bowl. The missionaries call them "surpprise frogs" for the obvious reason. They may regret their choice of abode tomorrow morning when my bean-heavy meal is fully digested. Then they'll be the ones who are surprised.

Yes, my line of work really is stressful. To greet us in Bethany, the college arranged for their top massage students to give us each a one our relaxation massage. Beneath starlight, nestled in the jungle's humid embrace and soothed by the otherworldly tweets and chirps of creatures unseen, we had the knots of our muscles expertly pressed away.

The college, by the way, is a training centre for vegetarian Seventh Day Adventist Bible workers who wish to attach medical skills to their missionary work. I have my hesitancies about mixing religion and medicine, but it's nothing new in the history of humankind, and there is no doubt that these are intelligent, caring people who --religion or no religion-- can provide some much needed health relief for the tens of thousands in Guyana who suffer without regular medical care. And there's also no denying that the college has created a wondrous, peaceful and comfortable home here in the Essequibo region, literally carved out of pure jungle. With all the holiness about, it's a wonder my unclean self doesn't burst into flames.

Their vegetarianism is also a boon. Despite my regular bacon fixations, I am mostly a vegetarian myself (mostly!), and prefer to remain strictly so while traveling. Guyana has proven particularly difficult to maintain such a diet, so it's a fantastic thing to be housed in a compound that produces very creative and healthy vegetarian fare.

This is my umpteenth trek to Guyana, each time with a different mission and purpose, and each time with a different destination. In the morning we travel to the AmerIndian village of Mashabo, where we will explore potential new development projects. Then it's back to Georgetown to await our Friday morning flight home. A medical team attached to the NGO I'm representing on this trip is presently in the deep interior, near the Venezuelan border; they are returning to Georgetown Friday evening and I'm sad that I won't be able to meet up with them before leaving.

Our first stop was the frontier town of Bartica, outpost of boatmen and gold miners straggling in from Brazil, Venezuela and all points within Guyana. Here's an object lesson for those North Americans among you who have never ventured abroad: one night, at dinner with four senior men of Bartica, they turned the conversation, in all seriousness, to the topic of whether one's first love can truly end. It's something I've seen throughout my journeys, but never in the "West": men from all walks of life --builders, miners, politicians, labourers-- gathering together to discuss the nature of love.

The bugs are spooking me now. Got to turn off the computer!


Feb 17 - Bethany, Guyana

Just returned from a visit to the AmerIndian village of Mashabo, which is home to 400-500 Awarak and Carib Indians, cared for by one overworked health care worker, the very charming and experienced Esther. Our job here is to scope out the community's appropriateness for a medical intervention. My personal agenda is to determine whether any smaller, low investment but high income, projects can be initiated here. The answer to both questions is yes.

Mashabo is a gorgeous set of wooden homes nestled above a seemingly pristine lake. Like all waters in Guyana, the lake is brown and muddy, but somehow seems cleaner and almost blue from a distance. Esther informed us that ongoing issues include malaria, maternal health problems, chronic pain management, blood counts and contraception needs, all within the NGO's mandate. Additionally, our visit to the underresourced primary school leads us to conclude that teaching aids, particularly with respect to language and science teaching, are most needed. This, I think, is a potentially cheap and impactive development initiative.

At one point, I went for a walk down one of the trails cut by a tractor (logging is the major industry here). Exotic plants and insects abounded, as well as the ubiquitous rustle in the foliage that was usually a splendid ground-dwelling bird or one of many species of large lizard. This is the jungle, after all.

I spotted another trail, mostly overgrown, that looked to have been cut by machete days earlier. Did I dare? How brave was I? This is, after all, the land of five very prevalent poisonous snake species, killer jaguars, poisonous spiders and a plethora of unnamed biting things that can cause disease, pain and even death. I've been to jungles in Guyana, Guatemala, India, Malaysia, Thailand and Uganda before. I've tracked wild mountain gorillas through the Congo jungle, bivouaced in a hammock on the Brazilian border to hear the jaguars patrolling, piloted a bamboo raft across a jungle river from Thailand into Burma, and have stared down forest foxes on the steps of remote Mayan ruins being overtaken by the forest. I contemplated the snake-proof gaiters in my pack, the mosquito mask in my back pocket and the hunting knife in my front pocket.

Yes, I dared.

And as I bravely set foot onto this path of new dangers, furtively congratulating myself on my masculine courage, I suddenly jumped back! I was surprised by six barefoot AmerIndian schoolboys, the eldest no more than 7, running happily from out of the "dangerous" path. Each turned to me and politely said in turn, "Good afternoon, sir!"

Yeah, I'm an idiot.

It's 7pm now and I'm back at the mission. The blazing stars glare down through crystal clear skies, and the oppressive heat sets in for the night. I must awaken at 5:AM to make the boat back to Georgetown. But I go to sleep now with a strange contentment. We heard tonight the members of the mission singing, broken youth who have come here to mend and to find a new way. Christian songs echoing through the jungle, like something out of a Jeremy Irons movie (you know the one). I am not a Christian, but I understand what they do here, and I appreciate it.

Feb 18, Georgetown, Guyana

I awoke at 4:AM to catch a speedboat to the town of Supenaam, where anotherboat would take us to Parika, followed by a drive to Georgetown. In the wee hours, the jungle is dark and silent, save for the constant buzzing of weird insects and the occasional crash of something unknown against a hard surface. I took the time to examine the stars, so brilliant and skewed than what I'm used to in Canada.

I heard another of those mysterious crashes coming from the thickest part of the snaking treeline, and flipped on my headlamp to have a gander. We are below sea level, in a genuine South American jungle. The air is as thick as soup, coarse with raw oxygen spewed forth by the greenery. In front of my lamp, a line of plankton-like objects swam in the air, reminding me that life is everywhere here, even in the breathable air, fully explaining my endless allergic reactions.

Hours of peaceful boat journey back to the "city" were instructive. Passing children --7 or 8 years old-- clean and lovely in their pressed school outfits, actually rowed their own boats to school. Children in Canada at that age whine about their electronic toys. Children here perform daily manual labour to earn the right to go to school.

We stop to pick up a mother and her three schoolage kids. One of them has been up all night with diarrhea, so they are heading to the hospital. There is a diarrhea epidemic across the country right now, as a mini-drought has gripped the nation, leading to improper use of stagnant waters. One child spends the boat time brushing his teeth with clean water in a cup, spitting into the myserious brownness of the river. It is a weirdly peaceful sight.

In Georgetown we checked into the Hotel Tower, my 5th time staying here in the last 10 years. Ironically, my father had been a waiter and busboy here 60 years ago. He wouldn't recognize the place today, with its contemporary discotheque, free wifi and in-house spa. Don't get me wrong --it's still a Third World inn, so it's no Ramada or Continental. But it certainly has changed since my father's day.

We met briefly with the people who run Food For The Poor, an international NGO that delivers --you guessed it-- food for the poor. Then topped off the day with a bit of tourism: a trip to the zoo.

Now, I'd been to the Georgetown zoo several times before, most recently only four days ago! But there's not much else to do around here. For the equivalent of US$4,two people enjoyed entrance and an alcoholic beverage each. Trust me, booze helps you accept some of the horrors you see in this place. My least favourite is the adult African lion, kept in a concrete cage no bigger than a king-sized bed. The poor beast looked bored and miserable.

Most fiercesome were the harpy eagles and various species of South American owls, each big enough and with talons broad enough to easily pick a human baby from its mother's arms. The harpy eyed me with malicious intent, until I distracted it by indicating a nearby child: much easier pickings.

Interestingly, there's a huge fenced in exhibit featuring.... a cow. Yes, a cow. With the cow was a toucan in a cage. A cow and a toucan. I think there's a Saturday morning cartoon there somewhere.

Further on is the tapir enclosure. A sign above it indicates that this tapir is on loan from the Philadelphia zoo. Why is this interesting? Because I've seen tapirs in Guyana before... wandering about, minding their own business. Tapirs are indigenous to Guyana. Why do they need to get one from Philadelphia, of all places?

Weirdest of all were the monkey enclosures. These are large metal cages holding many spider monkeys, howler monkeys, and other breeds I did not identify. The spider monkeys are huge, elegant and sad, with active prehensile tails and faces of red otherworldly delight. They are so bored that they shake the hand of any passing human, possibly writing on their palms in secret monkey script, "Send help!"

But several of the smaller monkey species have figured out how to get out. They treat the cage like a sort of townhouse, coming and going as they please, occasionally visiting other monkey species in their cages. I was concerned about one of them wandering into the anaconda or jaguar enclosure, so I alerted an employee.

"Oh those aren't our monkeys," she said. "They come from the outside."

Really? If there are so many monkeys just kicking about visiting their monkey friends in prison, why do we bother even having a monkey prison?!!!

Clearly, this is not the most progressive zoo in the world. I think the alcohol might have given it away.

Off to dinner now, then a long night of catching up on overdo work. Then back to the cold winter of Canada.

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