I neither remember nor care what I wrote last time about crossing the border. I was there 2 hours, feeding dogs biscuits. One dog did not like the crisps but still kept going for the bag as if he expected something else to be in there. I had gotten the bus to Boa Vista and afterwards had to wait ages for the last available night bus to Manaus. This arrived in the morning and I hiked in the baking heat through Manaus to the hostel. Dammit all the films were still in Drunken Spanish. Manaus was still boring and I was here for another 3 days. The fact that Glaucia could not meet up meant it was even more boring. Mayra did not write back to my message either. Plain rude. Oh well, I have no time for rudeness. I decided to put all of my clothes in the wash. Its $10 for a washing load. I got my clothes and they wanted $20 for two loads. Fuck that. I said I wanted to load it myself. I managed to fit in all my clothes to one machine and they still insisted it was two loads. So I took a little out and they realised I was not going to pay for two and finally said I can just wash the whole as one load if I wanted. Bout time. They had their revenge though, by taking two days to wash my clothes. I had put everything in the wash except for my swimming trunks and so was forced to wander around as the token naked Englishman for a few days. Had to borrow some clothes of an Israeli guy to go out for dinner with him and a couple of Dutch girls. Also met an Aussie called David who had been attacked by a mugger the night before. He had hit him in the head with a coke can, wrestled with the knife and dragged him into the hotel where the night guard beat him with a stick. He may think twice about attacking someone again.
In the morning I was given some clothes and I went to meet Gus. We went with the Dutch girls to the floating mall and around the port which was quite cool. Then we wondered around a market. I wrote useless Carrefour and at first I was not sure what I was talking about. Then I remembered. They had no change, no spoons and no clue. I came back and headed out with the Israeli. He was looking to gather up people for a jungle trip, but we were planning on leaving that saturday so it would not have worked out. We joined a couple of Americans and the 8 of us went out for an eat as much as you like at the gourmet pizza place. Such good food. Then the guy from the pizza place took four of us out to a forro club. Music was shit but we got to appear on local radio, albeit reluctantly. Was fun. He was just asking us our nationalities to drum up more people for his club. We spoke awkward Portuguese and some girls wanted to chat with us. Was impossible as they spoke no Spanish. This was a recurring theme. The Dutch girls had to avoid the advances of several Brazilian men before one drunken guy gave us a white knuckle ride home. By South American standards it was tame, but the Dutch girls were suitably rattled. I got back early in the morning and slept late.
That cost me. We had been invited to participate in a video for Manaus and the world cup in Brazil 2014 as they needed foreign faces talking about football. They said they would come at 3pm. They came at 10am and were long gone by the time I woke up. Typical. Helen arrived in the afternoon. Iberian airlines had lost her bag. You can't trust any company that has any dealings whatsoever with British Airways and these guys are no exception. I still remember the awful flight back from Cuba. She brought me my bank cards and more crucially a wind up MP3 player. Music for the first time since december. It makes a huge difference. Even if Tim has loaded on some 80s duff and some suspect reggae in the middle of all the good stuff. Manaus appears to be purgatory for me. If we waited for the bag I would be stuck here for even longer. God damn it. Fuck this city. Its like Cartagena and a black hole combined.
In the morning we decided to go anyway and Helen ran around sorting out supplies for the boat as she had nothing and then we got on board and waited 3 hours for the delayed departure. Ah the monotony of boat travel we were to experience next.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Guyana
Ok this is more a feeling and travel section. I had stayed the night with Joanna and her friends. In the morning the bus fetched me at 8am and for 25 SRD it took me to the boat dock in South Drain. There I had to wait for ages for a boat and go through ten tons of bureaucracy. The boat itself was 28SRD for one way. I spent a little on some food. I changed the rest for Guyanese dollars and had about 3,300. I had given 2SRD change to an old local and then he gave me 5 back to buy some food. Kindness always pays, but I gave him 3 SRD change after getting some water. Some idiot tried to drive his car onto the boat with a can of lager in his hands. Even in Surinam that was not going to wash. I helped with a bunch of form filling on the boat and they seemingly park the ferry by repeatedly crashing it into the dock. The people on the otherside were very friendly. I paid 2,500 GD to get to Georgetown. Corriverton looks like a nice little border town. Everyone told me to stay the hell away from Georgetown and that white people were in a lot of danger there. Hmm. The bus stopped to the drivers annoyment, so two fat people could go and eat in a restaurant. Not even takeaway. The driver kicked one guy out for letting it happen and the rest of us got some supplies. Down to 300 GD and I traded $40 for 8,000 GD for the bus. There were three goats with crucifixes on their backs. Obviously a strange reenaction of the crucifixion. There were lots of farm animals on the streets. The bus dropped me in the wrong place. You want them to drop you at Tropicana as a place to stay or pass through. Neighbourhood looked a little shady and deserted. The security guard in the old Intraserv offices let me use a toilet that had fallen apart and called me a taxi as he said the guys playing cricket down the road would rob me otherwise. I took the taxi around the squares etc. Found out bus to Lethem was 8,000 GD. Dammit. Had to trade the other real $10 for some food, internet and something to drink for the journey. Bought my tickets and hung around killing time. Could not go out with the bags. Got chatting with the owners daughter, who lives in Florida. Nice to chat with a Yankee, but they had to go for dinner and I was stranded again.
Eventually I got on the bus with a bunch of Brazilians, including a very good looking mum. We had no common languages so I was on my own. We stopped a lot for security checks that seemed unnecessary and pointless. In between I had a weird dream involving Juliana (from Angel Falls) and David, the Costa Rican dude from Belize. Very odd. Still think she must have had an affect on me if she invades my dreams lol. I woke up with a crash. The bus was broke. Fuck. Nope it was reversing onto a bridge. Why was it doing that? Makes no sense. Wait its not a bridge. Its a boat thing. Where am I? Where is everyone else? Its just me and the driver. Ah everyone else got off because its dangerous. I was sleeping so if the bus had fallen in the river I would have drowned in it. Nice. I got out. Everyone was milling around. We had to take our vehicular cargo over a fast paced river. Looked interesting. They have a unique balletic way of crossing. They power out and let the rapids spin the raft around to face the other side and then power out and spin into the bank. Much more skill than you would normally think and something you have to see. Impressive stuff. It was light now. We were in Iwokrama. Looks ok, but I imagine the lodges are more impressive. We powered on through jungle, jungle and more jungle. Isolated does not do this muddy jungle track justice. Was like being in Darien again. Got to Annai. African style plains apparently. I have nothing to compare with. Saw a giant anteater bounding along besides the bus. Looks like it would be a cool place to spend some time. Maybe next time when i come back to Guyana. The bus bounces over tiny bridges barely wider than the bus. The kids loved it. Adults grimaces. Oh how good it would be to be fearless again. Got to Lethem, which is ok. Border guards are wankers and they stamped the passport at the beginning in spite. Fuckwits. They don´t like us there. I decided I had no money for a taxi and would walk. Only the locals think 1km is a marathon and can´t give directions for shit. 15 minutes of talking and I can narrow it down to go straight and take the third left. They sent me all over the place. If you want directions. Face the immigration centre. Turn right. Take first right. Take third left. Follow dirt track. It comes to puddle river. Wade it or take bridge 50m to your right. Then go back to road and follow. See bridge on left. It has a fence. Follow dirt track to main road opposite airport. Follow fenced bridge road into Brazil. Easy. Took one hour with their shit directions. The bus had left Georgetown at 9pm and arrived in Lethem at 11am. One hour of shitty directions and I crossed the border to be greeted by the closed for lunch sign from 12pm until 2pm. Fuck this. So I bedded in for a two hour wait. Security gave me some water so I bought him a coke and played/fed two vagabond dogs on cookies and crisps (though one of them did not like cheese puffs). Another dog appeared to be wounded, locals crossed without giving a shit for stamps and I had some weird conversations with a Brazilian woman through her kids. Eventually it opened, I got my stamp and had to dash for the bus to Boa Vista. Back in Brazil baby. Will wrap this next part with the Amazon journey. Helen arrives tomorrow, I get the boat saturday and get back to a country I can speak the language in 6 or 7 days. Woohoo.
Eventually I got on the bus with a bunch of Brazilians, including a very good looking mum. We had no common languages so I was on my own. We stopped a lot for security checks that seemed unnecessary and pointless. In between I had a weird dream involving Juliana (from Angel Falls) and David, the Costa Rican dude from Belize. Very odd. Still think she must have had an affect on me if she invades my dreams lol. I woke up with a crash. The bus was broke. Fuck. Nope it was reversing onto a bridge. Why was it doing that? Makes no sense. Wait its not a bridge. Its a boat thing. Where am I? Where is everyone else? Its just me and the driver. Ah everyone else got off because its dangerous. I was sleeping so if the bus had fallen in the river I would have drowned in it. Nice. I got out. Everyone was milling around. We had to take our vehicular cargo over a fast paced river. Looked interesting. They have a unique balletic way of crossing. They power out and let the rapids spin the raft around to face the other side and then power out and spin into the bank. Much more skill than you would normally think and something you have to see. Impressive stuff. It was light now. We were in Iwokrama. Looks ok, but I imagine the lodges are more impressive. We powered on through jungle, jungle and more jungle. Isolated does not do this muddy jungle track justice. Was like being in Darien again. Got to Annai. African style plains apparently. I have nothing to compare with. Saw a giant anteater bounding along besides the bus. Looks like it would be a cool place to spend some time. Maybe next time when i come back to Guyana. The bus bounces over tiny bridges barely wider than the bus. The kids loved it. Adults grimaces. Oh how good it would be to be fearless again. Got to Lethem, which is ok. Border guards are wankers and they stamped the passport at the beginning in spite. Fuckwits. They don´t like us there. I decided I had no money for a taxi and would walk. Only the locals think 1km is a marathon and can´t give directions for shit. 15 minutes of talking and I can narrow it down to go straight and take the third left. They sent me all over the place. If you want directions. Face the immigration centre. Turn right. Take first right. Take third left. Follow dirt track. It comes to puddle river. Wade it or take bridge 50m to your right. Then go back to road and follow. See bridge on left. It has a fence. Follow dirt track to main road opposite airport. Follow fenced bridge road into Brazil. Easy. Took one hour with their shit directions. The bus had left Georgetown at 9pm and arrived in Lethem at 11am. One hour of shitty directions and I crossed the border to be greeted by the closed for lunch sign from 12pm until 2pm. Fuck this. So I bedded in for a two hour wait. Security gave me some water so I bought him a coke and played/fed two vagabond dogs on cookies and crisps (though one of them did not like cheese puffs). Another dog appeared to be wounded, locals crossed without giving a shit for stamps and I had some weird conversations with a Brazilian woman through her kids. Eventually it opened, I got my stamp and had to dash for the bus to Boa Vista. Back in Brazil baby. Will wrap this next part with the Amazon journey. Helen arrives tomorrow, I get the boat saturday and get back to a country I can speak the language in 6 or 7 days. Woohoo.
Surinam
Hey they drive on the left in this country. Surprising to me and took me a little while to recognise it. Ah well we did own them for a while eh. They also have bombed out shitlanes as excuses for a road. It was so pot holed it could have been taken straight from the Somme. It wrecks vehicles and most of the drivers who drive fast end up ravaged by the road. We saw one serious accident and the corpses of many other cars littered the roads. We also found some Brazilians who had to hop into my taxi because the tyres on their cars had been completely schredded. They told me about a party out at White Beach that night but sadly we never made it as it sounded like it would have been interesting.
Surinam is jungle. A lot of jungle. With the occasional wooden hut. One long road. Many wooden huts. Innumerable potholes. Thats Surinam. Then you hit Paramaribo (Parbo as the locals call it and so will I to save typing time). You go over an arching river and plunge into a busy city. Then you hit the colonial district. This city is very pretty. Like Charleston crossed with Salem. Loads of old wooden Dutch buildings from the 16th and 17th centuries. Very pretty. Wharfs and roads that look like they have remained static for centuries. Its remarkable that they weren´t cremated in some fires. This place is gorgeous to walk around in. Every turn is stunning. Like a wooden Dutch version of Guanajuato. I thought I could live there for ages (5 days later you realise there is not enough to keep you interested and nothing remotely interesting close to it this side of Caracas). They have a lovely palm tree lined park behind the palacial governors mansion. All the buildings are nice and smallish, with a good fort overlooking the squares. Its just a place to get lost in with your wanderings. It does not have a cinema though. Surinam has no cinemas. It must be the first country in the world I have been to with no cinemas (Maybe Haiti didn´t have them, but even the non country of Belize has some cinemas). There are also cash machine problems. Only one bank and one cash machine in Surinam will take foreign cards. Luckily its near the main hotels. The mix is awesome. Its the first time I have seen Indians since London really and the mix of Dutch, Indonesian, Indian and Maroon makes a very interesting and heady concoction. I think I described it on facebook as ´Charleston crossed with Salem, with Indian/Indonesian culture, dumped in the Caribbean, left to stew for a while and then given a Vegas twist with the casino culture´. Everyone speaks English here which is class. Easy to get around. I met only one Surinamese person who spoke no English. In the evening I met Joanna and her two Dutch friends, along with a German couchsurfer called Benedicta. We grabbed some food on the wharf with a local friend of theirs. Some of the locals were mashed and one woman had a can of beer poured over her head, but remained stubbornly passed out. We went clubbing afterwards and the music was mixed but fun. There was even a celebrity presence with Raymond from ´Raymond is Always Late´(Apparently its famous in Holland) in attendance. Benedicta had studied voodoo in Dominican Republic and lived in Papua New Guinea for a while (which is apparently incredibly dangerous and like a war zone. Damn it I wanted to visit while in Australia). We ended up with an argument with the taxi driver on the way back and turfed in around 5am. I had gone out alone to buy some water and got propositioned by the usual prostitutes. Then some guy pulled over and though I was his friend apparently, before asking if I was looking for a woman. I replied no, I was after a petrol station and did he know where one was. How he can mistake me for a friend is absurd. There are no white men in Surinam. Well a few. There are a lot of Dutch nurses though. Many, many blonde women and no men. Shame I hate blondes really. In the end I abandoned my search and headed back to the hotel where I had a bonkers dream about being in a relationship with Ana Ivanovic. Was fun while I was asleep anyway lol.
We woke up very late the next day as we had to go to Keti Koti festival or some such. It was not as big as I was hoping. We grabbed lunch at the festival in the paln tree park and most of the Maroon were out in traditional costume and the live music was good. They even had some capoeira. I was suspecting my foot was getting infected with Dom´s disease and I think its coming through now so will have to take care of that on the long buis journey. They had some kick arse African food though and that was worth trying. We had a few testy political and religious debates that we would have been more sensible leaving alone I think. Gus gets back from the jungle tomorrow and we chatted and watched the music all day before grabbing some dinner in the evening. We all turfed in early to save it for the weekend and I decided to stay in Parbo for the weekend and leave Guyana till later. I can do it briefly and then see Kaieteur Falls etc later. After travelling through it, it deserves time and is close enough to Roraima that I can do both when I come back up through Brazil.
The Dutch girls had gone back home and Benedicta and I went around the tour agencies as she wanted to do something. She eventually got a tour to see the turtles that would go early the next day and left me on my own for friday night. Then we went hammock shopping and saw a bit more of the town. Brownsweg I thought was doable in one day but I never tested it due to my casino visits and unreliable local information. We met Gus for dinner and got served by an insane mentally defective waiter. He was completely lost. Very smiley and happy, but oh so stupid and useless. You could not help liking him for his uselessness. He reminded me of that bit in ´No Country for Old Men´when Javier Bardem tells the petrol station attendant Ýou don´t know what you are talking about do you´. We then went to the poolside decking of one of the posh hotels and it has a great view over the river. The casino was crap though. On the way back a guy accosted Benedicta and me with a sign mentioning how his penis was out. His penis was out of where? His trousers? Out of semen? What? Ah no he could not write. It says cut. His penis was cut off in an accident/war in the jungle. That can´t be true. Surely. And how does having no penis mean he can´t work. Great sign though. I also found out that the voodoo shamans in Dominican Republic will sell you a zzombie if you want from between 20,000 Euros and 50,000 Euros. Fucking awesome. You can buy a zombie. I wonder what the defects are with the zombies at the low end of the market. Can you imagine bringing him through customs? Anything to declare? Yes, a motherfucking zombie. You have a zombie? Yes and yes his value of goods does exceed $10,000 but I don´t intend to sell him. What do you intend to do with him? I have no idea, but its a zombie, man. Thats good enough for me. Can bring him through the metal detectors, sniffer dogs won´t bother him because he is dead. All sorts of opportunities open up for your zombie. I want one. Anyone buying me a christmas present, thats what I want. A zombie. Though I will probably have to abandon him at the side of the road when I get bored or just stick him in my old bank. Noone would notice the difference. I went on to a casino on my own and made 150% profit before retiring to evict a cockroach from my room politlely. He exited via the door and made no trouble.
Again I woke up late and had no idea what time it was. Went to burger king (free refills), saw that Murray lost (see previous entry when I typed it), did some writing, they had a powercut so I played warcraft 3. First computer game in ages. I went to sleep, went to burger king again and then headed out to another casino. I made a 200% profit that time. Still flying high as always in the casinos. Found a funky bar road with an almost abandoned bar having music played by a kick arse dj. Awesome segueing. South America has loads of awful djs who always kill the build up and they have this amazing guy playing to noone. Such a loss. In the end I went to the other hostel and drank a litre of beer watching a medley of Michael Jackson videos with a stunning girl in the red. One of the rarer Dutch brunettes and very stunning.
The next day was Independence Day Baby. Walked around aimlessly and won 250% profit for lunch. I should just play these machines to fund my travelling. The French guys had come up to Parbo for the weekend and I found their hotel room to speak to Celine and the others. They wanted to sleep until later and suggested I meet them at 8pm. I met Benedicta at the hostel at 7pm and we were late to meet the French because we bumped into some interesting peace corp workers. One was called Adam from South Carolina and looked and acted like Matthew Broderick on speed. Very interesting guy. He could not join us at the casino Mirage because it was owned by drug dealers. Shame we did not heed him as I got massacred that night. Adam did conclude that the best word in the English language (ya´ll) was the perfect solution for the absence of vosotros. Very true. In the casino it was me, Benedicta and 5 French. The locals hate the Dutch, but they like the rest of us when they find out you are not Dutch. We met some local guys in the casino (who were probably tied to the drugs trade). They kept offering to take us hunting in the interior but I had no time sadly. Also some people were betting $10,000 on one number. High rollers. It was 500 SRD (125 Euros) a small bet on the poker table. There was some serious drug money rolling around. Tonge got hit by the marble roulette ball and then 10 minutes later he collapsed dead behind us. Fuck. I thought he must have had a heart attack from the ball strike. It turns out he was diabetic and his girlfriend Clementine managed to nurse him back to health. Our new Surinamese friend called off the heavies and we continued to play. I have a policy. Only bet what you can lose. Save half your winnings. Never play tables as they are fair. Only machines as they are biased against you and if you know that you can play them. I broke all my rules as they had no blackjack machines. I lost every hadn I made 20 on (unheard of) and got dealt 8 straight hands of 15 (impossible) and got annihilated for 75 Euros in half an hour. A massive hole punched in my budget from sheer stupidity. I even lost 50 SRD of Celines money and the French suggested I pay her back with sex. I thought they were joking, but now in hindsight they may have beens serious. I was in no position to perform anyway. I was trolleyed. The most drunk I have been on the trip. I don´t even remember writing my diary entry when I got back (actually maybe Zacatecas was worse as I don´t even remember going home). Short of the blackjack for sex offer we ended up playing roulette. I did better at that, but I was a Jonah all night. Even spanked through some of the drug dealers money they gave me but they did not seem to care. Nice bunch these Surinamese dealers. Better than the dealers behind the cards anyway. Even the sodding roulette table hit 0 twice in a row. It was not to be and I was a fucking idiot. I did get a massive amount of rum and cokes for free. We were with the dealers so service was fast and I drank somewhere between 20 and 30 of them after 12% proof beer and a litre of Parbo. I may have drank my losses in drink but it still was not worth it. Fun night though. The French ended mainly up and I had walked Benedicta back at one point. Was 7am and the bus I was supposed to catch had gone. Said goodbye to the Surinamese dude. Maybe see him again. Fun guy. Then I caught some sleep. But first I had scrawled ´Stupid, stupid betting. Missed bus. Any dealer Surinamese. Incapable of writing. Too much rum. Sleep it off.´ Which is quite funny in hindsight as I don´t remember writing it and I don´t know what the dealer line even means.
I took an afternoon bus to Nieuw Nickerie. The tennis was on in burger king as I tried to sober myself up. I think I stayed drunk until Guyana. Federer two sets all with Roddick. Was looking like a classic and indeed it seemed to turn out that way from all reports. My second travel journal has fallen apart and will have to retire this one as well. May hang on until Helen goes and send it with the other one. I was late and apologised to Joanna. We took some bikes out for a cycle around the rice fields. Stunning scenery. The colours are so rich in this part of the world and the sunsets are spectacular. Its an all Indian community out here in the west and they have substance abuse and abuse problems in general that you get in rural communities. The Dutch worked in psychology clinics for the locals. We found the dyke and went for a walk, but Joanna lost the key to the bike in the dark. We had to get some locals to hacksaw off the lock before we met her housemates for some cool Indonesian food. The Dutch bikes are weird. They have no breaks. You break by pedaling backwards. Very weird and I almost went over the handlebars the first time I tried it as they are very touch sensitive. She lost the keys again in the restaurant but had left them in the lock. The mosquitoes ravished us and are quite evil there. I had a money problem again and broke all the cash machines in town. It was going to be tight bto go through Guyana but I had my mixture of money (110 SRD, $60 although $10 is fake and I still have it, 50 Reals).
Surinam is jungle. A lot of jungle. With the occasional wooden hut. One long road. Many wooden huts. Innumerable potholes. Thats Surinam. Then you hit Paramaribo (Parbo as the locals call it and so will I to save typing time). You go over an arching river and plunge into a busy city. Then you hit the colonial district. This city is very pretty. Like Charleston crossed with Salem. Loads of old wooden Dutch buildings from the 16th and 17th centuries. Very pretty. Wharfs and roads that look like they have remained static for centuries. Its remarkable that they weren´t cremated in some fires. This place is gorgeous to walk around in. Every turn is stunning. Like a wooden Dutch version of Guanajuato. I thought I could live there for ages (5 days later you realise there is not enough to keep you interested and nothing remotely interesting close to it this side of Caracas). They have a lovely palm tree lined park behind the palacial governors mansion. All the buildings are nice and smallish, with a good fort overlooking the squares. Its just a place to get lost in with your wanderings. It does not have a cinema though. Surinam has no cinemas. It must be the first country in the world I have been to with no cinemas (Maybe Haiti didn´t have them, but even the non country of Belize has some cinemas). There are also cash machine problems. Only one bank and one cash machine in Surinam will take foreign cards. Luckily its near the main hotels. The mix is awesome. Its the first time I have seen Indians since London really and the mix of Dutch, Indonesian, Indian and Maroon makes a very interesting and heady concoction. I think I described it on facebook as ´Charleston crossed with Salem, with Indian/Indonesian culture, dumped in the Caribbean, left to stew for a while and then given a Vegas twist with the casino culture´. Everyone speaks English here which is class. Easy to get around. I met only one Surinamese person who spoke no English. In the evening I met Joanna and her two Dutch friends, along with a German couchsurfer called Benedicta. We grabbed some food on the wharf with a local friend of theirs. Some of the locals were mashed and one woman had a can of beer poured over her head, but remained stubbornly passed out. We went clubbing afterwards and the music was mixed but fun. There was even a celebrity presence with Raymond from ´Raymond is Always Late´(Apparently its famous in Holland) in attendance. Benedicta had studied voodoo in Dominican Republic and lived in Papua New Guinea for a while (which is apparently incredibly dangerous and like a war zone. Damn it I wanted to visit while in Australia). We ended up with an argument with the taxi driver on the way back and turfed in around 5am. I had gone out alone to buy some water and got propositioned by the usual prostitutes. Then some guy pulled over and though I was his friend apparently, before asking if I was looking for a woman. I replied no, I was after a petrol station and did he know where one was. How he can mistake me for a friend is absurd. There are no white men in Surinam. Well a few. There are a lot of Dutch nurses though. Many, many blonde women and no men. Shame I hate blondes really. In the end I abandoned my search and headed back to the hotel where I had a bonkers dream about being in a relationship with Ana Ivanovic. Was fun while I was asleep anyway lol.
We woke up very late the next day as we had to go to Keti Koti festival or some such. It was not as big as I was hoping. We grabbed lunch at the festival in the paln tree park and most of the Maroon were out in traditional costume and the live music was good. They even had some capoeira. I was suspecting my foot was getting infected with Dom´s disease and I think its coming through now so will have to take care of that on the long buis journey. They had some kick arse African food though and that was worth trying. We had a few testy political and religious debates that we would have been more sensible leaving alone I think. Gus gets back from the jungle tomorrow and we chatted and watched the music all day before grabbing some dinner in the evening. We all turfed in early to save it for the weekend and I decided to stay in Parbo for the weekend and leave Guyana till later. I can do it briefly and then see Kaieteur Falls etc later. After travelling through it, it deserves time and is close enough to Roraima that I can do both when I come back up through Brazil.
The Dutch girls had gone back home and Benedicta and I went around the tour agencies as she wanted to do something. She eventually got a tour to see the turtles that would go early the next day and left me on my own for friday night. Then we went hammock shopping and saw a bit more of the town. Brownsweg I thought was doable in one day but I never tested it due to my casino visits and unreliable local information. We met Gus for dinner and got served by an insane mentally defective waiter. He was completely lost. Very smiley and happy, but oh so stupid and useless. You could not help liking him for his uselessness. He reminded me of that bit in ´No Country for Old Men´when Javier Bardem tells the petrol station attendant Ýou don´t know what you are talking about do you´. We then went to the poolside decking of one of the posh hotels and it has a great view over the river. The casino was crap though. On the way back a guy accosted Benedicta and me with a sign mentioning how his penis was out. His penis was out of where? His trousers? Out of semen? What? Ah no he could not write. It says cut. His penis was cut off in an accident/war in the jungle. That can´t be true. Surely. And how does having no penis mean he can´t work. Great sign though. I also found out that the voodoo shamans in Dominican Republic will sell you a zzombie if you want from between 20,000 Euros and 50,000 Euros. Fucking awesome. You can buy a zombie. I wonder what the defects are with the zombies at the low end of the market. Can you imagine bringing him through customs? Anything to declare? Yes, a motherfucking zombie. You have a zombie? Yes and yes his value of goods does exceed $10,000 but I don´t intend to sell him. What do you intend to do with him? I have no idea, but its a zombie, man. Thats good enough for me. Can bring him through the metal detectors, sniffer dogs won´t bother him because he is dead. All sorts of opportunities open up for your zombie. I want one. Anyone buying me a christmas present, thats what I want. A zombie. Though I will probably have to abandon him at the side of the road when I get bored or just stick him in my old bank. Noone would notice the difference. I went on to a casino on my own and made 150% profit before retiring to evict a cockroach from my room politlely. He exited via the door and made no trouble.
Again I woke up late and had no idea what time it was. Went to burger king (free refills), saw that Murray lost (see previous entry when I typed it), did some writing, they had a powercut so I played warcraft 3. First computer game in ages. I went to sleep, went to burger king again and then headed out to another casino. I made a 200% profit that time. Still flying high as always in the casinos. Found a funky bar road with an almost abandoned bar having music played by a kick arse dj. Awesome segueing. South America has loads of awful djs who always kill the build up and they have this amazing guy playing to noone. Such a loss. In the end I went to the other hostel and drank a litre of beer watching a medley of Michael Jackson videos with a stunning girl in the red. One of the rarer Dutch brunettes and very stunning.
The next day was Independence Day Baby. Walked around aimlessly and won 250% profit for lunch. I should just play these machines to fund my travelling. The French guys had come up to Parbo for the weekend and I found their hotel room to speak to Celine and the others. They wanted to sleep until later and suggested I meet them at 8pm. I met Benedicta at the hostel at 7pm and we were late to meet the French because we bumped into some interesting peace corp workers. One was called Adam from South Carolina and looked and acted like Matthew Broderick on speed. Very interesting guy. He could not join us at the casino Mirage because it was owned by drug dealers. Shame we did not heed him as I got massacred that night. Adam did conclude that the best word in the English language (ya´ll) was the perfect solution for the absence of vosotros. Very true. In the casino it was me, Benedicta and 5 French. The locals hate the Dutch, but they like the rest of us when they find out you are not Dutch. We met some local guys in the casino (who were probably tied to the drugs trade). They kept offering to take us hunting in the interior but I had no time sadly. Also some people were betting $10,000 on one number. High rollers. It was 500 SRD (125 Euros) a small bet on the poker table. There was some serious drug money rolling around. Tonge got hit by the marble roulette ball and then 10 minutes later he collapsed dead behind us. Fuck. I thought he must have had a heart attack from the ball strike. It turns out he was diabetic and his girlfriend Clementine managed to nurse him back to health. Our new Surinamese friend called off the heavies and we continued to play. I have a policy. Only bet what you can lose. Save half your winnings. Never play tables as they are fair. Only machines as they are biased against you and if you know that you can play them. I broke all my rules as they had no blackjack machines. I lost every hadn I made 20 on (unheard of) and got dealt 8 straight hands of 15 (impossible) and got annihilated for 75 Euros in half an hour. A massive hole punched in my budget from sheer stupidity. I even lost 50 SRD of Celines money and the French suggested I pay her back with sex. I thought they were joking, but now in hindsight they may have beens serious. I was in no position to perform anyway. I was trolleyed. The most drunk I have been on the trip. I don´t even remember writing my diary entry when I got back (actually maybe Zacatecas was worse as I don´t even remember going home). Short of the blackjack for sex offer we ended up playing roulette. I did better at that, but I was a Jonah all night. Even spanked through some of the drug dealers money they gave me but they did not seem to care. Nice bunch these Surinamese dealers. Better than the dealers behind the cards anyway. Even the sodding roulette table hit 0 twice in a row. It was not to be and I was a fucking idiot. I did get a massive amount of rum and cokes for free. We were with the dealers so service was fast and I drank somewhere between 20 and 30 of them after 12% proof beer and a litre of Parbo. I may have drank my losses in drink but it still was not worth it. Fun night though. The French ended mainly up and I had walked Benedicta back at one point. Was 7am and the bus I was supposed to catch had gone. Said goodbye to the Surinamese dude. Maybe see him again. Fun guy. Then I caught some sleep. But first I had scrawled ´Stupid, stupid betting. Missed bus. Any dealer Surinamese. Incapable of writing. Too much rum. Sleep it off.´ Which is quite funny in hindsight as I don´t remember writing it and I don´t know what the dealer line even means.
I took an afternoon bus to Nieuw Nickerie. The tennis was on in burger king as I tried to sober myself up. I think I stayed drunk until Guyana. Federer two sets all with Roddick. Was looking like a classic and indeed it seemed to turn out that way from all reports. My second travel journal has fallen apart and will have to retire this one as well. May hang on until Helen goes and send it with the other one. I was late and apologised to Joanna. We took some bikes out for a cycle around the rice fields. Stunning scenery. The colours are so rich in this part of the world and the sunsets are spectacular. Its an all Indian community out here in the west and they have substance abuse and abuse problems in general that you get in rural communities. The Dutch worked in psychology clinics for the locals. We found the dyke and went for a walk, but Joanna lost the key to the bike in the dark. We had to get some locals to hacksaw off the lock before we met her housemates for some cool Indonesian food. The Dutch bikes are weird. They have no breaks. You break by pedaling backwards. Very weird and I almost went over the handlebars the first time I tried it as they are very touch sensitive. She lost the keys again in the restaurant but had left them in the lock. The mosquitoes ravished us and are quite evil there. I had a money problem again and broke all the cash machines in town. It was going to be tight bto go through Guyana but I had my mixture of money (110 SRD, $60 although $10 is fake and I still have it, 50 Reals).
Friday, July 3, 2009
French Guiana
We went to the immigration desk and were informed that EU citizens do not need to get stamped across the border. Makes sense I suppose, but means we did not get a French Guiana stamp. That would come on the exit from the country though for some strange reason. Not sure why. They wanted 40 euros to go to Cayenne. That seemed ridiculous. Way too much money. I tried to haggle and got them down to 30 euros. It still seemed way too much money. I later learned that it was not really that much relatively. This country was jaw droppingly expensive. I mean really expensive. Thank God I had people to stay with. On the bus ride there were some burnt out cars along the edges of the road, but not really as many as the guide books suggest. It almost looks like they are there for show as well. We got into Cayenne just in time to visit the embassy, where the woman there insisted that I needed a plane ticket of some variety to get a visa. I booked myself a flight from Bogota to Lima for the 11th november as that will be just after my course finishes. Skype was not working properly and was extortionate to phone local numbers there. I got to eat some French food which was well needed. Expensive, but at least there were proper French bakeries and such. Elizabeth's friend Celine was going to pick me up by the cathedral and so I filled in the Surinam form. Only the Dutch would have an option of Concubinage on a form for marital status. Oh yeah Cayenne is a bit of a shithole. When the bus dropped us off, we had to keep asking if this was Cayenne. I anticipated New Orleans. I did not get anything close.
I met Celine and we dropped stuff off at her place. The crew were all French teachers working here in French Guiana. When you qualify as a teacher you get 21 points if you are young and single. So you can only work in French Guiana or the suburbs of Paris. The latter is dangerous and pay is uniform so you struggle to eek out a living. The former is tropical and you get 40% more pay so they had opted to swing it down there for a few years. Celine's boyfriend was back in France at that time taking his exams to qualify as a teacher. We drove out to Elizabeth's place. Its a beachfront house for 250 Euros a month (You can see why some people opt to work here). We had a bath in the Atlantic Ocean. Well needed after all the travelling. The waves are quite fierce though as one lifted me spun me round like a washing machine and pile drove me into the beach. Twice. Aftwerwards we ate and had drinks on the veranda before we headed to a bar for some Karaoke. They have all the European comforts here. You just have to pay for them. Real beer, real food etc. I sang Dire Straits for my song, everyone else sung French stuff mainly. There were many nurses, military, teachers and police. In fact along with the space centre that accounted for the entire white population. They don't really mix much here. Or in Surinam from what I have seen. The white French run everything, the native French Guyanais seem to have all the bureaucratic posts. Brazilians run all the shops and most don't speak French. The Chinese run the supermarkets and the Haitians do something. I am not sure what. Its very weird to have such a clear division of labour. Its a little anathema for someone from London where everyone mixes around everything. It seemed a good crowd here. They had a local friend called Hugo Victor, so you can imagine his nickname. Sebastian said at the end that I eventually had a holiday in France with the French as there is no interaction with the locals. Its especially true as I dont speak the language at all. I find I can understand bits of French and Dutch now though. The more languages you have, the easier the next ones become. I think I might live in France after the olympics for a year as well to learn French. My Spanish is decent in 7 months so French should be the same theoretically.
I went to the embassy with Gus in the morning. He flirted with the lady there and succeeded in getting our Surinam visas issued that afternoon instead of 4 days later which should have been the case. We had a pleasant walk around the town, even if there are not many colonial buildings. Some of them are still nice, but its easily forgettable. We went up the fort and the city is a little prettier at night or from high up. We trawled the cafes, I bought a hammock, we picked up the visas. There were people with wads of passports there. Quite odd. I started to get my first couch requests now I have set myself as based in Bogota. Should be no problem hosting there then. The internet cafe we were in is tripped out when porn is accessed apparently. Went down twice while we were in there. Too many soldiers on shore leave evidently. Not very French really, but I think the cafe is set up to a Chinese provider. It was becoming impossible to sort something out to see the Isle de Salut. Shitty as that was the thing I wanted to see the most. We got back and I met Celine to go and see 'No Country for Old Men'. Great film still. We cycled there and I avoided being killed on Caribbean roads. We got some food afterwards with Sebastien, Gwendal and a few others at the food vans. As normal even the fast food is top notch. Then we headed to their flat (maths teachers) and had home brewed fruit rum. The grapefruit one was the best. Then I found out the sea turtles were on the beaches of Cayenne as well as the west of the country so we drove out to see them. This trip would save me 150 Euros. It costs a fortune to see them and yet in Cayenne they are there for free. We walked out through the mangroves and swamps at night before doubling back down the beach. What the hell was that? Some sort of monster. Damn these things are big. Huge things. Like little armoured cars on the beaches. Monsters. Was quite scary although it does not move much. It was breathing heavy like a rhino and digging a pit for the eggs. Gwendol showed me where it lays them and we stayed and watched for 15 minutes. In a 40 minute walk down the beach I saw 12 turtles and 3 different types including a much smaller one. If they see people before they start digging they head back out to sea so they have to keep the numbers down. Its still an impressive sight though as they power onto the beach and find their very own parking spots. We got back late and had to take a lift back to Celines. Gwendol was pulled over by the gendarmerie and did not have his drivers licence or his car papers. I had no proof of who I was as well. Shit. Luckily they were happy with his credit card and his answer that he was a professor and I was a tourist. He dropped me back about 5am and I slept late ruining my cycling plans.
Juliana had written me which was cool. She was probably suffering from an airport induced boredom session that I often find myself in. Gus had reinforced Dom's opinion of the Galapagos Islands before he left. That they were a little dull, overpriced and only really worth while if you can dive. Now that is two people who share my tastes saying that. I have now decided to skip them for this trip. I will go once I can dive. I will use the saved money to pay for all three months of flat rental in Bogota and learn to scuba dive in Taganga probably. Michael Jackson died. Very odd. Now everywhere you go you hear his music all the time. I have even started listening to him while I write up this blog. He was a phenomenal talent really. Shame about the side show. I aimed to cycle out to some cool waterfalls. I left at 3pm and had to be abck at 7pm. They were 40km away. It was always an ambitious project in the tropical heat. Still it was easier than at altitude. In the end I had to settle for Roura and back (a round trip of 56km). I was even hit by a car. it did not hurt as much as I thought it might. Pulling round a truck I was hit in the arm on the dual carriageway by a jeep's wing mirror. It winged me but only tingled slightly. Hmm thank god they absorb force now, but I was lucky I did not cycle right into a full on collision. I really need to pay more attention when I cycle. I cycled through the tropical fields. Reminded me of France and how much I like cycling for the freedom. I crossed the Rio Matury (cool) into the little charming dilapidated town of Roura. Light was a major factor as there were no street lights on half the roads. Did not want to be winged more permanantly in the dark. At this point Del Potro was surprisingly eliminated from Wimbledon and Emily added me on facebook. Decided to accept it this time. We went to a French dinner party in the evening. Lots of drinking and eating (mainly drinking) and some diving in the pool (did not bring swimming stuff). There was a raging storm outside at some point and it de-legged a table before launching it into the swimming pool. Fun little night.
When I got up Celine wa sout for breakfast, so I headed into town and bumped into her. We booked Isle de Salut as she wanted to come as well. I had forgotten to bring my card so she offered to pay for it as a present. I said that was ridiculous. They were all already buying me far too many things and doing too many things for me. As an Englishman we are always uncomfortable with that a little. Sebastian was looking for a boat to hitchhike across the Caribbean. We went out to one of the jungle trails where you can view Cayenne and it was a pleasant walk and a great view. That was until it cained down with rain, but they pointed out I was English and must be used to that. At one point Gwendol said we should only speak French. He finally found a way to shut me up. We then went back and started drinking home made rum on the porch. We discussed a US road trip on motorcycles. I would love to do another one. Would be even more fun now I reckon and I know the best places to go. We started listening and swapping blues music on the porch while drinking away. Celine got too drunk, was sick and got taken home. Us three guys headed to a club, where Sebastian insisted upon paying 90 Euros for a bottle of vodka between us. We drank heavy again and with the Brazilians and locals. I chatted Spanish, they replied in Drunken Spanish, only this time communication was improved. It was a funky little club with Souk dancing. Sebastian was drawing on Gwendols head with a pen and we were chatting with randoms. Bit like Pepes. One prostitute came to join us, sat on the end of the couch and fell off backwards into the wall with a sommersault. Very funny. She gracefully got back up and tried to maintain her dignity. Almost pulled it off. We carried on drinking and I accidentally stole a glass from the bar. Outside was a French soldier and two Brazilian girls. He wanted me to come to another bar with them. I said I had to go to Isle de Salut. He asked when and I said in 20 minutes. Shit had to get back. Hopefully Celine was ok to drive. Sebastian and I misunderstood each other. I thought he wanted me to go to a club, he though I was going with the soldier. He phoned Celine to say he had lost me and then I got back and woke her up and we headed to Korou.
I slept for the whole journey and the boat so can't comment on either. Then we were on the island. Looked quite pretty but I was knackered. We found the beach and pitched hammocks. Never having done it before I was awful. I pitched it too low and it was lying on the floor. I did not care. I was so tired I just went to sleep. Both of us slept until the afternoon. The islands don't look that imposing for former prisons. They looks kind of nice. They are also very close together. Isle de Diablo and Isle St Joseph are both within 150m of Isle Royale. You could surely swim between them in 5 minutes. Also I saw no sharks in these 'shark infested' waters. Apparently most are herbivores anyway. Sebastian did point out that the rocks would probably dash me if I swam on them. Hmm had not thought of that. Reasonably likely. Still it was not imposing enough. There were many agoutis (or little bread stealing rat bastards as I like to call them). Apparently coconuts can fall and kill you when you sleep in hammocks. I had not thought of this also. Such a city boy so we slapped up a tarpaulin and went around the island. There is a caiman lake with no caimans, seemingly only iguanas. Maybe they evolved. The prisons are suitably eerie and creepy in the day so heaven knows what they are like at night. We walked through all the old buildings and around the island and the cemeteries. Cool little place, but very small. Back at the hammocks the rat shits stole the bread and so we decided to eat in the expensive restaurant. I was murdering my money here even though I never paid for a single night of accomodation. Its free to sling up your hammock. Some rancid coconut had broken near the hammocks and it smelt worse than my socks. It was that bad. Really. Honestly. I know people who know my socks still won't believe me. For dinner I had French fish soup with gruyere, some sauce thing and bread, followed by ray with sauce and chocolate mousse. Damn I miss French food. Celine had Tahitian fish, beef thing and the mousse. We got chatting (well Celine did) with the locals. I ordered in Spanish as the waitress was Brazilian and one of the kitchen staff from Bolivia so we could chat for a bit. Each mousse was 6 Euros and I managed to spend a shocking 18 Euros on chocolate mousse. That can't really be forgiven in the budgeting. They had some typical 'rat on a string' dogs in the hotel. Very cute, but very cowardly. It was pitch black on the way back and we had to get down the stairs and paths by moonlight. Quite dangerous stuff really. In the night it battered down with rain, I got eaten so much by mosquitoes I started to feel faint from blood loss and then in the morning I woke up when one of the roosters was eating ths tin of tuna. I never sleep well in hammocks.
In the morning we were up early and got breakfast before we went to Isle St Joseph. There is a beach there made of broken shells. Its like walking on muesli and the sea is very dirty. The ruined prisons are very cool though and its worth a detour for a few hours. We met a French brother and sister and then and Italian family. I think the Italian man is the only other person in French Guiana who speaks no French, except for half the shop assistants. Still no sharks. Disappointing. There were a couple of very good looking French girls on the islands. Damn communication problems. Why don't they at least speak Spanish lol. Really need to learn that language. Always wanted me kids to speak Spanish, French and English so maybe I will end up teaching them myself. We found the monkeys which was cool and then had to fend off hoards of French Guianese school children wanting us to help them cheat on their treasure hunt. We took the catamaran back. The journey seems a lot longer when you are awake. We chatted (well sortof) with the French siblings and then saw some of Korou. Very samey but nowhere near as ugly as I was expecting. Maybe a little more ordered than Cayenne. I lost my European plug socket recharger. Its not a disaster but they use it here in Surinam as well so I have not been able to tell the time for a while. Oh well its not too critical when you are just chilling in one place but might be hard to catch the bus on sunday. I cooked spaghetti for Celine and Sebastian and we chilled on the veranda. The French get kicker bank holidays. If the bank holiday is a thursday or tuesday they get the day off in between to make it a four day weekend. Though if it falls on a weekend they don't get a replacement day which is a bit shitty. Hmm the internet has gone down which might proove to be a little bit of a problem if I can't save this. Not sure where I got upto last time it saved. Hell this sentence may get wiped out if it does not kick in in the remaining 55 minutes I have of this session. I wonder if they wipe their harddrives. In Bogota I just used to save it to there. I got more requests. Should have a nice and packed house in Bogota. Meet up with Helen in only 7 days now, but supposed to be getting a place with Glaucia on the friday night before I head upriver on the saturday. Was a nice time in French Guyana and Sebastian was right. It was really just a French holiday and it cost about as much as well.
In the morning I said goodbye to Celine and set off for Surinam. Gus had got to the bus terminal at 7am and the bus had left at 1pm so I timed it a little later. Got there for 9.30am and the bus left 15 minutes later. My luck is always good. We headed to St Laurent de Maroni on the border and I slept for most of it. Got the border town 10 minutes before the shops closed so I grabbed some food. Could not find an ATM so went for a walk around the old Transportation Camp. Its decrepid and funky if a little uniform. All overgrown. Then I tried to find the ferry and immigration with my shitty French. Took ages. St Laurent is the prettiest of the French towns in French Guiana though that is not saying very much. The ferry was not there so I hopped on a canoe. It cost just 4 Euros and the guy set me up with contacts on the other side but because I had to get back on a boat and go to customs that did not work. I had gotten my stamped in passport and in Surinam they were quick at putting me through. Got a taxi at the door for 40 Surinamese dollars (10 Euros), but I paid him 7 Euros in shitty coins and $12. Thought about giving him the fake $10 note but opted against it. Then the taxi would have been free as all the money was dead money for me (can't change coins or $1 notes and the $10 would have been fake). Oh well into Surinam and country 47. Creeping close to the half century but won't get there until december maybe.
I met Celine and we dropped stuff off at her place. The crew were all French teachers working here in French Guiana. When you qualify as a teacher you get 21 points if you are young and single. So you can only work in French Guiana or the suburbs of Paris. The latter is dangerous and pay is uniform so you struggle to eek out a living. The former is tropical and you get 40% more pay so they had opted to swing it down there for a few years. Celine's boyfriend was back in France at that time taking his exams to qualify as a teacher. We drove out to Elizabeth's place. Its a beachfront house for 250 Euros a month (You can see why some people opt to work here). We had a bath in the Atlantic Ocean. Well needed after all the travelling. The waves are quite fierce though as one lifted me spun me round like a washing machine and pile drove me into the beach. Twice. Aftwerwards we ate and had drinks on the veranda before we headed to a bar for some Karaoke. They have all the European comforts here. You just have to pay for them. Real beer, real food etc. I sang Dire Straits for my song, everyone else sung French stuff mainly. There were many nurses, military, teachers and police. In fact along with the space centre that accounted for the entire white population. They don't really mix much here. Or in Surinam from what I have seen. The white French run everything, the native French Guyanais seem to have all the bureaucratic posts. Brazilians run all the shops and most don't speak French. The Chinese run the supermarkets and the Haitians do something. I am not sure what. Its very weird to have such a clear division of labour. Its a little anathema for someone from London where everyone mixes around everything. It seemed a good crowd here. They had a local friend called Hugo Victor, so you can imagine his nickname. Sebastian said at the end that I eventually had a holiday in France with the French as there is no interaction with the locals. Its especially true as I dont speak the language at all. I find I can understand bits of French and Dutch now though. The more languages you have, the easier the next ones become. I think I might live in France after the olympics for a year as well to learn French. My Spanish is decent in 7 months so French should be the same theoretically.
I went to the embassy with Gus in the morning. He flirted with the lady there and succeeded in getting our Surinam visas issued that afternoon instead of 4 days later which should have been the case. We had a pleasant walk around the town, even if there are not many colonial buildings. Some of them are still nice, but its easily forgettable. We went up the fort and the city is a little prettier at night or from high up. We trawled the cafes, I bought a hammock, we picked up the visas. There were people with wads of passports there. Quite odd. I started to get my first couch requests now I have set myself as based in Bogota. Should be no problem hosting there then. The internet cafe we were in is tripped out when porn is accessed apparently. Went down twice while we were in there. Too many soldiers on shore leave evidently. Not very French really, but I think the cafe is set up to a Chinese provider. It was becoming impossible to sort something out to see the Isle de Salut. Shitty as that was the thing I wanted to see the most. We got back and I met Celine to go and see 'No Country for Old Men'. Great film still. We cycled there and I avoided being killed on Caribbean roads. We got some food afterwards with Sebastien, Gwendal and a few others at the food vans. As normal even the fast food is top notch. Then we headed to their flat (maths teachers) and had home brewed fruit rum. The grapefruit one was the best. Then I found out the sea turtles were on the beaches of Cayenne as well as the west of the country so we drove out to see them. This trip would save me 150 Euros. It costs a fortune to see them and yet in Cayenne they are there for free. We walked out through the mangroves and swamps at night before doubling back down the beach. What the hell was that? Some sort of monster. Damn these things are big. Huge things. Like little armoured cars on the beaches. Monsters. Was quite scary although it does not move much. It was breathing heavy like a rhino and digging a pit for the eggs. Gwendol showed me where it lays them and we stayed and watched for 15 minutes. In a 40 minute walk down the beach I saw 12 turtles and 3 different types including a much smaller one. If they see people before they start digging they head back out to sea so they have to keep the numbers down. Its still an impressive sight though as they power onto the beach and find their very own parking spots. We got back late and had to take a lift back to Celines. Gwendol was pulled over by the gendarmerie and did not have his drivers licence or his car papers. I had no proof of who I was as well. Shit. Luckily they were happy with his credit card and his answer that he was a professor and I was a tourist. He dropped me back about 5am and I slept late ruining my cycling plans.
Juliana had written me which was cool. She was probably suffering from an airport induced boredom session that I often find myself in. Gus had reinforced Dom's opinion of the Galapagos Islands before he left. That they were a little dull, overpriced and only really worth while if you can dive. Now that is two people who share my tastes saying that. I have now decided to skip them for this trip. I will go once I can dive. I will use the saved money to pay for all three months of flat rental in Bogota and learn to scuba dive in Taganga probably. Michael Jackson died. Very odd. Now everywhere you go you hear his music all the time. I have even started listening to him while I write up this blog. He was a phenomenal talent really. Shame about the side show. I aimed to cycle out to some cool waterfalls. I left at 3pm and had to be abck at 7pm. They were 40km away. It was always an ambitious project in the tropical heat. Still it was easier than at altitude. In the end I had to settle for Roura and back (a round trip of 56km). I was even hit by a car. it did not hurt as much as I thought it might. Pulling round a truck I was hit in the arm on the dual carriageway by a jeep's wing mirror. It winged me but only tingled slightly. Hmm thank god they absorb force now, but I was lucky I did not cycle right into a full on collision. I really need to pay more attention when I cycle. I cycled through the tropical fields. Reminded me of France and how much I like cycling for the freedom. I crossed the Rio Matury (cool) into the little charming dilapidated town of Roura. Light was a major factor as there were no street lights on half the roads. Did not want to be winged more permanantly in the dark. At this point Del Potro was surprisingly eliminated from Wimbledon and Emily added me on facebook. Decided to accept it this time. We went to a French dinner party in the evening. Lots of drinking and eating (mainly drinking) and some diving in the pool (did not bring swimming stuff). There was a raging storm outside at some point and it de-legged a table before launching it into the swimming pool. Fun little night.
When I got up Celine wa sout for breakfast, so I headed into town and bumped into her. We booked Isle de Salut as she wanted to come as well. I had forgotten to bring my card so she offered to pay for it as a present. I said that was ridiculous. They were all already buying me far too many things and doing too many things for me. As an Englishman we are always uncomfortable with that a little. Sebastian was looking for a boat to hitchhike across the Caribbean. We went out to one of the jungle trails where you can view Cayenne and it was a pleasant walk and a great view. That was until it cained down with rain, but they pointed out I was English and must be used to that. At one point Gwendol said we should only speak French. He finally found a way to shut me up. We then went back and started drinking home made rum on the porch. We discussed a US road trip on motorcycles. I would love to do another one. Would be even more fun now I reckon and I know the best places to go. We started listening and swapping blues music on the porch while drinking away. Celine got too drunk, was sick and got taken home. Us three guys headed to a club, where Sebastian insisted upon paying 90 Euros for a bottle of vodka between us. We drank heavy again and with the Brazilians and locals. I chatted Spanish, they replied in Drunken Spanish, only this time communication was improved. It was a funky little club with Souk dancing. Sebastian was drawing on Gwendols head with a pen and we were chatting with randoms. Bit like Pepes. One prostitute came to join us, sat on the end of the couch and fell off backwards into the wall with a sommersault. Very funny. She gracefully got back up and tried to maintain her dignity. Almost pulled it off. We carried on drinking and I accidentally stole a glass from the bar. Outside was a French soldier and two Brazilian girls. He wanted me to come to another bar with them. I said I had to go to Isle de Salut. He asked when and I said in 20 minutes. Shit had to get back. Hopefully Celine was ok to drive. Sebastian and I misunderstood each other. I thought he wanted me to go to a club, he though I was going with the soldier. He phoned Celine to say he had lost me and then I got back and woke her up and we headed to Korou.
I slept for the whole journey and the boat so can't comment on either. Then we were on the island. Looked quite pretty but I was knackered. We found the beach and pitched hammocks. Never having done it before I was awful. I pitched it too low and it was lying on the floor. I did not care. I was so tired I just went to sleep. Both of us slept until the afternoon. The islands don't look that imposing for former prisons. They looks kind of nice. They are also very close together. Isle de Diablo and Isle St Joseph are both within 150m of Isle Royale. You could surely swim between them in 5 minutes. Also I saw no sharks in these 'shark infested' waters. Apparently most are herbivores anyway. Sebastian did point out that the rocks would probably dash me if I swam on them. Hmm had not thought of that. Reasonably likely. Still it was not imposing enough. There were many agoutis (or little bread stealing rat bastards as I like to call them). Apparently coconuts can fall and kill you when you sleep in hammocks. I had not thought of this also. Such a city boy so we slapped up a tarpaulin and went around the island. There is a caiman lake with no caimans, seemingly only iguanas. Maybe they evolved. The prisons are suitably eerie and creepy in the day so heaven knows what they are like at night. We walked through all the old buildings and around the island and the cemeteries. Cool little place, but very small. Back at the hammocks the rat shits stole the bread and so we decided to eat in the expensive restaurant. I was murdering my money here even though I never paid for a single night of accomodation. Its free to sling up your hammock. Some rancid coconut had broken near the hammocks and it smelt worse than my socks. It was that bad. Really. Honestly. I know people who know my socks still won't believe me. For dinner I had French fish soup with gruyere, some sauce thing and bread, followed by ray with sauce and chocolate mousse. Damn I miss French food. Celine had Tahitian fish, beef thing and the mousse. We got chatting (well Celine did) with the locals. I ordered in Spanish as the waitress was Brazilian and one of the kitchen staff from Bolivia so we could chat for a bit. Each mousse was 6 Euros and I managed to spend a shocking 18 Euros on chocolate mousse. That can't really be forgiven in the budgeting. They had some typical 'rat on a string' dogs in the hotel. Very cute, but very cowardly. It was pitch black on the way back and we had to get down the stairs and paths by moonlight. Quite dangerous stuff really. In the night it battered down with rain, I got eaten so much by mosquitoes I started to feel faint from blood loss and then in the morning I woke up when one of the roosters was eating ths tin of tuna. I never sleep well in hammocks.
In the morning we were up early and got breakfast before we went to Isle St Joseph. There is a beach there made of broken shells. Its like walking on muesli and the sea is very dirty. The ruined prisons are very cool though and its worth a detour for a few hours. We met a French brother and sister and then and Italian family. I think the Italian man is the only other person in French Guiana who speaks no French, except for half the shop assistants. Still no sharks. Disappointing. There were a couple of very good looking French girls on the islands. Damn communication problems. Why don't they at least speak Spanish lol. Really need to learn that language. Always wanted me kids to speak Spanish, French and English so maybe I will end up teaching them myself. We found the monkeys which was cool and then had to fend off hoards of French Guianese school children wanting us to help them cheat on their treasure hunt. We took the catamaran back. The journey seems a lot longer when you are awake. We chatted (well sortof) with the French siblings and then saw some of Korou. Very samey but nowhere near as ugly as I was expecting. Maybe a little more ordered than Cayenne. I lost my European plug socket recharger. Its not a disaster but they use it here in Surinam as well so I have not been able to tell the time for a while. Oh well its not too critical when you are just chilling in one place but might be hard to catch the bus on sunday. I cooked spaghetti for Celine and Sebastian and we chilled on the veranda. The French get kicker bank holidays. If the bank holiday is a thursday or tuesday they get the day off in between to make it a four day weekend. Though if it falls on a weekend they don't get a replacement day which is a bit shitty. Hmm the internet has gone down which might proove to be a little bit of a problem if I can't save this. Not sure where I got upto last time it saved. Hell this sentence may get wiped out if it does not kick in in the remaining 55 minutes I have of this session. I wonder if they wipe their harddrives. In Bogota I just used to save it to there. I got more requests. Should have a nice and packed house in Bogota. Meet up with Helen in only 7 days now, but supposed to be getting a place with Glaucia on the friday night before I head upriver on the saturday. Was a nice time in French Guyana and Sebastian was right. It was really just a French holiday and it cost about as much as well.
In the morning I said goodbye to Celine and set off for Surinam. Gus had got to the bus terminal at 7am and the bus had left at 1pm so I timed it a little later. Got there for 9.30am and the bus left 15 minutes later. My luck is always good. We headed to St Laurent de Maroni on the border and I slept for most of it. Got the border town 10 minutes before the shops closed so I grabbed some food. Could not find an ATM so went for a walk around the old Transportation Camp. Its decrepid and funky if a little uniform. All overgrown. Then I tried to find the ferry and immigration with my shitty French. Took ages. St Laurent is the prettiest of the French towns in French Guiana though that is not saying very much. The ferry was not there so I hopped on a canoe. It cost just 4 Euros and the guy set me up with contacts on the other side but because I had to get back on a boat and go to customs that did not work. I had gotten my stamped in passport and in Surinam they were quick at putting me through. Got a taxi at the door for 40 Surinamese dollars (10 Euros), but I paid him 7 Euros in shitty coins and $12. Thought about giving him the fake $10 note but opted against it. Then the taxi would have been free as all the money was dead money for me (can't change coins or $1 notes and the $10 would have been fake). Oh well into Surinam and country 47. Creeping close to the half century but won't get there until december maybe.
Brazil Part 1: Manaus and Amazonas
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