There were photographers (paparazzi) everywhere. We quickly realized they were there specifically to take a zillion pictures of us, the white people picking berries. It must have been for publicity purposes. It was awkward and funny at the same time.
Cynthia hates berries (weirdo), so she promised me hers, right before she dropped them all over the road.
At the festival, the first order of business was an eel catching contest. Not fun, not entertaining. I felt like the eels were looking at me and saying "I know you're not in here trying to catch me, but you aren't doing a thing to stop this, and so I blame you too." We had to leave...