Our protest ends in a faceless shopping mall with loudspeakers blaring obscure German punk anthems and the marchers running for cover. Later, we discover that all but four of the Italians have been let in. Everyone believes there will be trouble on Tuesday. At their press conference, Inpeg announces that demonstrators will surround the conference. She wants questions about globalization to be put to a speaker from Tanzania, but the journos are more interested in violence and numbers.
Someone asks about international seed patents and the cameramen switch off their lights and leave.
Meanwhile, in another part of town, the convergence centre is fast becoming a village. About 2,000 activists are hanging out in an enormous warehouse cum aircraft hangar draped in banners. A troupe of pink samba drummers parade outside in the warm autumn sunshine, followed by a posse of techno-pagan line dancers. On what passes for street corners, stand-up politicos are haranguing anyone who'll listen and the finishing touches are being put to the inevitable giant puppets. The warehouse itself is filled with banners.