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.