The Crossing of the Guianas – Part 2 (Georgetown and on to Suriname)

“In Georgetown, thieves first stab you and then check to see if you have anything valuable!” That’s what my Japanese boxing champion friend Motoki had to say about Georgetown whilst we were trekking together in Venezuela. I imagined a pile of bloodied bodies randomly lying around the streets of the Guyanese capital. More recently, George, my delightful host in the Guyanese village of Nappi, also had stern warnings about Georgetown. “Don’t walk about the streets alone, day or night!” he cautioned. He feels that the high level of violence in the capital is a major cause for so many people to migrate from the country. With these visions of doom, I set off on a long van ride from the border town of Lethem, in the southwest of Guyana, towards the capital of the country, Georgetown, up north along the Caribbean coast.

The savannah and hills around Lethem

It was soon after 6pm when the rickety van stuffed with people left from Lethem. I was told that we should be arriving in Georgetown at about midday the following day. It was already getting dark by then and I was sleepy but fully aware that I wasn’t going to get much sleep that night due to the crammed and uncomfortable space I was in. I was sharing a little two-seat bench with a very overweight Brazilian man who needed more than a seat and a half just for himself. I therefore struggled to remain on my own seat – a constant battle to nudge as much of my buttocks onto something solid and avoid falling on the floor. Under normal circumstances, I can still imagine the ride being rather rough. For the equivalent of approximately 60 US dollars (12,000 Guyanese Dollars) per person for the travel, you’d expect a more comfortable means of transport. But then again, those are the prices in Guyana.

Savannah and giant termite mounds

Until the light of day faded, I enjoyed looking through the window as the van sped along the dirt road through the dusty savannah and eventually into the jungle. I had been told that the road is very bumpy but I must admit that I was expecting worse. There’s no tarmac yet in this part of the country – despite the fact that this road is a vital link between Brazil and the Guyanese capital – but in truth it wasn’t as bad as I had expected for much of the route. I think the road must have been flattened recently, though some parts still did have large holes all around – which our driver seemed to drive into on purpose. In particular, he seemed to love speeding through the deepest puddles instead of slowing down. My guess is that the road will deteriorate again after the rainy season, until the government eventually decides to actually tarmac the road. As the van entered the jungle, I could no longer see anything due to the darkness. 

Sunset along the road

The van eventually stopped near a little wooden restaurant for supper at about 9pm but all food options seemed a little bit too expensive for my budget. We eventually stopped again about 30 minutes further down the road near the entrance of the Iwokrama Natural Reserve, which was closed for the night, and we slept in a wooden structure nearby for a few hours where you can rent out a hammock for a cheap price. I paid nothing since I simply rolled out my sleeping bag and slept on the floor (though in hindsight it may not have been a great idea due to the creatures crawling around the jungle). By about 4am, we were up again and on our way to cross through the natural reserve as soon as it opens. I’d have loved to stop in Iwokrama to walk along the roof canopy that passes over the jungle. Nevertheless, it would have been an expensive affair since you’d have to buy two full tickets from Lethem to Georgetown for a start, then pay the entrance to the park and sort out accommodation. It just felt a bit too complicated (and expensive) for my liking so I decided against this option. We were thoroughly checked by police officers assigned to protecting the natural reserve before the van entered its territory.

The dirt-road leading to Goergetown

The longish drive across the natural reserve made me realise how big it actually is and I longed to discover what lies within. The van eventually arrived to a river which we had to cross by ferry so the passengers got off and waited for the ferryboat to arrive. I was struck by the beauty of my surroundings in the early morning light. As the ferryboat slowly reached the riverbank, another smaller boat approached, selling breakfast to those getting on board the ferry. We had to pass through another intense police check as we left the natural reserve area, mainly aimed at avoiding persons from taking flora and fauna out of the reserve. As we headed further north, the road eventually became smoother until it became tarmacked as we were about two or three hours away from Georgetown. To my surprise, it started to rain as we were about a hundred kilometres from our destination. We eventually arrived there at about 2pm – a good 18 hours after leaving Lethem.

Ferryboat at sunrise

Breakfast directly from a boat

The outskirts of Georgetown looked somewhat like the suburbs of an English town (but with a tropical climate), an obvious effect of the British colonial era. I also noticed some Hindu temples every now and then. The centre of Georgetown doesn’t have any high-rise buildings and, being a Sunday, it was also rather dead. It was therefore hard to realise that we had actually arrived in the centre itself. My plan was to stay at the YWCA Hostel, which is apparently the only reasonably priced lodging in town (at 2000 G$ per night for a dorm bed). Due to the many stories I had heard and read about the dangers in Georgetown and not having an idea where I was when the van dropped me off, I decided to catch a taxi to the hostel. After waiting for a short while due to the lack of taxis driving around on a Sunday, I finally managed to stop a taxi that wasn’t already occupied. The YWCA Hostel turned out to be rather close from where the van had dropped us off but I still got charged a good 700 G$ by the taxi driver (I was told a fair price would be around 300 G$). My ‘pleasant’ surprises were not over yet: the YWCA Hostel apparently doesn’t function on weekends and there I was outside its door on a Sunday afternoon. What kind of a hostel doesn’t work on weekends? This tiny detail wasn’t mentioned in the Lonely Planet recommendation! 

White-painted wooden houses in Georgetown

A Church on the outskirts of the city

I found myself in the middle of the wide deserted roads of Georgetown with all my belongings and no idea what to do or where to go. The taxi that had brought me there had long gone by the time I realised that I needed to find somewhere else to stay at. Thankfully, I had jotted down another address of a guesthouse (the ‘Rima Guesthouse’ in Middle Street) which was much more expensive but at least provided me with a reference point. I usually just turn up in most cities and find the first cheap hotel or hostel that I come across. Nevertheless, Georgetown isn’t brimming with hotels of any sort, let alone budget accommodation. It’s therefore best to arrive with an idea of where you’re going to sleep (and a back-up plan too). At this point, I figured that I had very few options since nothing would be cheap here anyway. I had no option but to stay in Georgetown for a couple of nights in order to sort out the formalities necessary for entering into Suriname. I therefore considered that the high price of accommodation I’ll incur will fall under the fixed costs of this part of my travel. I tried to find another taxi to take me to Middle Street but none were passing from where I was standing. I therefore started to slowly walk towards an area of town which seemed to be the city centre. At this point, I kept on thinking of the dire warnings that my friends had given me about walking alone in this city but I felt somewhat safer seeing that the streets seemed devoid of other people – both good or bad. After about 15 minutes, I finally managed to flag down a taxi that took me to the Rima Guesthouse for another 500 G$.

Thankfully, the quaint little guesthouse within an old colonial building was open and seemed like a really pleasant place to stay at. It also had an excellent Wi-Fi connection. I booked for two nights and settled down in my room, which cost me 6000 G$ per night. The price would have been much more worthwhile had I been travelling with another person since a double room only cost a little bit more. Feeling tired from the long journey and somewhat intimidated by Georgetown’s reputation (aggravated by the empty streets on a Sunday), I simply stayed in my comfy room till the following morning. To spice up my Sunday evening, my girlfriend Sofia (who was meant to have arrived in Manaus and eventually reach Belem along the Amazon River) hadn’t sent me an email since we parted ways in Boa Vista five days before. I therefore feared that she had disappeared like the young woman in the creepy movie ‘The Vanishing’. I slept feeling guilty that I had sent her backpacking on her own when she had never done anything of the sort before.

The townhall in Georgetown

The following morning, I woke up feeling fresh and eager to sort out the Surinamese formalities. Citizens of most EU countries only need a tourist card to enter Suriname whilst a visa is needed for persons from other countries (be sure to check online if you’ll need a tourist card or a visa). Either way, one must head to the Surinamese Embassy in Georgetown in the morning and fulfil the bureaucratic formalities before heading to the neighbouring country. I spoke to the owner of the guesthouse that morning and asked her if it was safe to walk alone in the streets of Georgetown. She told me that it was fine and that I could reach both the city centre (which was a short walk away from the guesthouse) and the Surinamese Embassy on foot. Her reassurances made me overcome my initial fears and allowed me hit the streets of Georgetown with confidence. Indeed, it looked like a different place on a Monday morning, with shops and restaurants open, several people walking along the streets and a number of cars driving by. I got hold of a map of the city and tried to find the Surinamese Embassy, which was meant to be about a 15 minute walk away. 

A Hindu Temple near the Surinamese Embassy

After looking around for a while whilst getting myself orientated amongst the wide streets, canals and a few parks, I eventually found the embassy. I waited at the gate for the guard to open but he seemed more interested in talking on his phone. Since it was raining at the time, I opened the gate and walked in so the guard told me off. I made a half-hearted, quick apology and scurried towards a covered area of the embassy garden. It was soon my turn to talk to a Surinamese official within the building, and I found him to be very friendly and polite. I gave him my passport, 25 US Dollars in cash and the passport photos which I thought were the only requirements for a obtaining a tourist card. Actually, I didn’t need the passport photos at all but I did need photocopies (which I didn’t have) of my passport and the Guyanese entry stamp on my passport. I had either read the online information badly or was given the wrong information.

It is important to keep in mind that for the Surinamese tourist card, one must pay 25 US Dollars in cash in that particular currency – so make sure you find a way to have this with you when you’re in Georgetown since there’s no other way to pay the fee, strangely enough. Getting the necessary photocopies was easy enough, thankfully, since there’s a shop which makes photocopies just five minutes’ walk away. I was soon back at the embassy with the photocopies of my passport and the Guyanese entry stamp as required. I paid the 25 USD, gave the photocopies and left my passport with the official. I’m not sure why, but instead of giving you the tourist card on the spot, they make you come back again in the afternoon after 2pm. Why they have this time-consuming procedure is anybody’s guess – but that’s the way it is. Having said that, if you have the 25 USD, the photocopies and your passport, it’s all rather simple and just requires getting to the embassy twice within the same day. I imagine that those needing a visa would need to do a little more as procedures go and it will surely be more expensive too.

I spent the rest of the day exploring Georgetown and, in the end, I quite enjoyed it. It’s a very particular city both in terms of architecture and culture. The architecture is decisively British whilst the strong influence of both the Indian and Afro-Caribbean cultures (which are a result of the British colonial times) is very obvious, particularly in the city centre. Indian spices can be smelt at the markets, emanating from many street-vendors and restaurants.  I took advantage of these restaurants to have some tasty and authentic Indian food when I got hungry. I particularly enjoyed walking around the historic Stabroek Market, which is bustling with activity during the day. All around the market, you can hear laughter, cheerful shouts and also some angry yelling from time to time. I was told to pay attention to pick pockets here – so I did – but I still took photos and roamed around the stalls and nothing bad happened. On the whole, I felt rather safe with all the people around me going about their daily business. 

Stabroek Market in the city centre

Multi-cultural environment at the market

Selling fish at the market

There are a couple of free museums worth visiting in Georgetown: the Museum of Guyana and the smaller but quaint Walter Roth Museum of Anthropology which has a small collection of indigenous items. Both museums close rather early so one must make sure not to get there too late during the afternoon. St. George’s Cathedral is worth a look (it was closed when I was there but I admired it from the outside) since it is apparently the world’s tallest wooden building. I also took a longish walk to the Square of the Revolution in order to see the fascinating monument influenced by African art dedicated to the slaves who started a rebellion on a colonial plantation in 1763. Whilst being a bit of a walk from the main central area of the city, this monument isn’t too far from the Surinamese Embassy. Once I got used to the city, I ended up walking everywhere and never caught another taxi whilst I was in Georgetown. On the whole, I quite liked Georgetown for its gritty feel, the particular architecture and the thriving mixture of cultures in the city centre. Nevertheless, I do think that the authorities should work hard to keep the city cleaner and safer. There’s a lot of potential here that better governance could turn into a very liveable place and one which could attract more tourism. It’s also a pity that the city isn’t built to take better advantage of the waterfront, which is hardly noticeable as you roam around the city.

Monument in Square of the Revolution

St. George's Cathedral - the tallest wooden building in the world

Georgetown deserves better than this

That afternoon, I asked the guesthouse staff to arrange for a shared taxi to take me to the Surinamese capital of Paramaribo the following morning (the ‘cheapest’ – apart from hitchhiking – and easiest way to get there). The cost of the journey by van from Georgetown to Paramaribo is 6500 G$ – but one must also add the price of the ferry that crosses the Corentyne River which acts as a border between (3125 G$) which is a separate cost. The van was meant to pick me up at about 4am from the hotel – but arrived at approximately 4.30am instead – and took me and the other passengers to the Guyanese border town of Corriverton. We were dropped off there and given a sort of ticket to be shown across the river on the other side of the border. Once you cross the river by ferry, another van picks you up on the other side and all you have to do is show them this ticket in order to be taken all the way to Paramaribo. It takes a while on the Guyanese side of the border since you must wait in two long queues – one to buy the ferry ticket and the other for immigration. Whilst in one of these queues, I met Debbie and James again by coincidence. I was surprised to see them there since I had left them behind in Lethem and thought that they were staying a while longer in southern Guyana. In the end, the high prices and complications linked to travel within the country put them off and they had got a lift to Georgetown on Sunday morning. Once all immigration formalities were over on both sides of the border, I hopped onto my van on the Surinamese side of the river for the ride of a few more hours along the Caribbean coast to Paramaribo, the capital of Suriname. We eventually got there at about 4pm and the van dropped everyone off at the addresses they requested.

To the ferry at the Corentyne River

Debbie, James and I wanted to stay at a fun-looking hostel called ‘Zus and Zo’ but it was full when we got there. The helpful receptionist indicated a reasonably priced guesthouse in the area which was within walking distance. Within minutes, we were at the ‘Albergo Alberga Guesthouse’ in Lim-a-Postraat – one of the most charming streets of Paramaribo. The street is lined up with white-painted wooden houses which made me feel as if I had travelled back in time. I was given a single room which cost me 17 Euros per night (in Paramaribo, you can pay for many things in either Surinamese Dollars or Euros). I really liked the guesthouse – it has a spacious living area and actually had a little pool at the back which is perfect for the hot climate. Whilst there aren’t many budget options for accommodation in Paramaribo, this felt like true value for money. I was also happy to know that I could withdraw Euros from some of the banks in town, which could be handy further along my travel, especially in Argentina where US Dollars (preferably) or Euros can be exchanged for very good rates on the informal market. I headed off to a nearby bank to withdraw some money since I had used up all my Guyanese Dollars before crossing the border and was basically cashless. It was a relief when the ATM gave me money without problems, after I was worryingly not able to withdraw money from ATMs in the Brazilian city of Boa Vista and in Lethem.

Downtown in Paramaribo

Lovely houses in the Surinamese capital

The day of my arrival in Paramaribo happened to be my 37^th birthday so I wanted to celebrate in some way or another. Thankfully, I had the company of James and Debbie so I would not spend it alone. We also met a delightful Dutch woman called Nel at the guesthouse and she told us of a little place by the river where we could get some good Javanese food for a reasonable price. To add to the fascinating cultural mix in this part of the world, there’s a minority of persons originating from the Indonesian island of Java dating back from the time when both Indonesia and Surname were Dutch colonies. We therefore headed to this restaurant and spent the evening drinking cold beer and eating delicious Asian food. My birthday had started off at 4.30am in Georgetown and ended in style several hours later by the Surname River in Paramaribo.

Monument next to the Suriname River

Nel was visiting Suriname and Guyana to do some research on a little known Dutch historical figure who she’s planning to write book about. The few things she told us about this man (he was a pirate for a while amongst other things) made me really want to read her book but unfortunately she’ll be writing it in Dutch, with no plans for an English translation. She told us about her misadventures in Georgetown, where she spent several days wasting her time due to the erratic opening hours of the library she was meant to be doing her research at. The following morning, I joined her to visit the Stichting Surinaams Museum, probably the most interesting museum in the city. This museum is based in Fort Zeelandia by the river and has a number of exhibits from the country’s history and different ethnic groups. 

Fort Zeelandia

One thing that struck me in the museum is a plaque commemorating the rather recent (1982) execution of a number of political activists and I was shocked to discover that the current president of Suriname is the very same person who had these people executed. My surprise for twofold: how does the president guilty of this massacre let the memorial remain so prominently in the museum and, even more importantly, how did the Surinamese people vote for a man guilty of such an atrocity? The Dutch government was very critical of this episode and therefore political ties are rather tense between Surname and their former colonisers – so much so that Dutch people actually need a visa to enter the country unlike most other Europeans. After visiting the museum, we entered the Roman Catholic Kathedraal, which is rather unassuming from outside but is really beautiful from the inside, with unpainted wooden carvings decorating the whole church. Walking further around the city, I was pleased to see a large mosque and synagogue stand side by side in the same street with seemingly no tension. I eventually made my way to the riverside market – a bit too late in the day to really see it at its liveliest.

Memorial to the political activists murdered in 1982 by the current president

Inside the wooden Cathedral

The Mosque next to the Synagogue

 

I felt really safe in Paramaribo and walking through the streets in the centre is a pleasure. Dutch is the main language spoken around town but a number of people can also communicate in English. Whilst the city may lack the grit and activity of Georgetown, it is much cleaner, more organised and far safer than the Guyanese capital. It’s strange how these two neighbouring countries have so much history in common but somehow developed in different ways. Suriname was also a British colony once upon a time, but they swapped it with the Dutch for a little peninsula in North America called Manhattan (what eventually became New York was in fact called New Amsterdam till 1664). 

Townhall in Paramaribo

 

Suriname had first attracted my attention since many of my favourite footballers from the late 1980s and 1990s were actually born in Suriname but their parents migrated to the Netherlands in the 1975 after Suriname became independent. Hence the parents of footballers such as Ruud Gullit, Edgar Davids and Clarence Seedorf (amongst others) left Suriname and their sons became some of the greatest footballers in the history of the Dutch national team. I wonder how Suriname never made a name for itself as a footballing nation with such pure talent originating from here.

The legendary Ruud Gullit playing for the Netherlands

On our third day in Paramaribo, James, Debbie and I rented bicycles and crossed the river by ferry to the former coffee and cocoa plantations at Pepperpot. Crossing the river, I was surprised when we passed by a shipwreck that was lying there in the middle, jutting out from the water. On our arrival to the other side of the river, we made our way out of the village we arrived at and cycled for a while following a map we were given. We passed along many fields, charming wooden houses and several canals. It really felt like the countryside in the Netherlands except for the heat and the palm trees. We arrived to a park which is a former plantation left to grow wild and is now home to much wildlife. We paid the ticket to enter the park, though it wasn’t the right time of day to see any wildlife due to the heat. It’s rather unlikely that people would find themselves on this side of the river just after sunrise or before sunset to be able to really enjoy the nature in the park at its liveliest. Nevertheless, it was fascinating to see how a man-made plantation changed to a jungle-like area in such a short time after being left to its own devices. We crossed the park on our bikes rather quickly after taking a short walk through the trees sprouting out from the fields of the former plantation. Soon after, we arrived to the restored buildings of the Pepperpot plantation itself. We strolled around the buildings and surrounding fields, getting an idea of how this part of the world must have looked like when slave-driven plantations dominated the country.

Bikes on the ferry to Pepperpot

Shipwreck in the middle of the Suriname River

The restored plantation houses at Pepperpot

We finally headed back to the little port to catch a ferry to Paramaribo but were surprised to find out that getting back would be a bit more complicated since not many people use the ferry heading for the city in the afternoon. We waited till more people gathered but only one Dutch man came along so the ride back was far more expensive than the one in the morning. The Dutch man, a teacher in the Netherlands, was probably in his 50s and had come to Paramaribo under tragic circumstances – his grandchild had died a few days before and he travelled from the Netherlands for the funeral and to provide moral support to his daughter. He had taken a day off to rest his mind amongst the plantations before plunging back to the painful reality at his daughter’s home. We talked a bit about his belief in young people and his positive approach towards education as the small ferryboat we were sharing approached the other side of the river.

Paramaribo seen from the other side of the Suriname River

I planned to head on towards French Guiana the following day. In truth, there’s much more to see and do in Suriname. If you want to explore the country further, it’s best to hire a car and give yourself a few more days. Travelling alone and having lost my driver’s licence over a year ago, it wasn’t possible for me to rent a car. I also felt that it would be best for me to cross through French Guiana and head towards Brazil within a few days since I had a long way to go and little time left in order to reach Patagonia during the summer months (December till February). Moreover, I had already got more than my fair share of jungle after living for two years in the Amazon and, more recently, having crossed the Amazon River by cargo ship. Otherwise, I would have surely ventured south towards the jungle and tried to visit a Maroon village. The Maroons are communities of former slaves who had fled from captivity into the jungles of Suriname, surviving thanks to knowledge obtained from the indigenous (Amerindian) communities who were accustomed to the type of land and climate in the area. The Maroon communities therefore developed with a mixture of African and indigenous traditions. 

Historic photo of a Maroon commnity displayed at the Stichting Surinaams Museum

That night, I slept early in order to make my way the following morning to the border town of Albina, along the Marowijne River which separates Suriname from French Guiana. I was told that a bus heading to Albina leaves Paramaribo from near the port – but nobody could give me any precise information about this bus. If my guesthouse had one major defect, it’s that the staff (despite being pleasant people) were pretty clueless about anything that could be helpful in the city. The following morning, I left the guesthouse very early and looked around for the right bus amongst several that were scattered around the port area. Nevertheless, it wasn’t clear which bus I needed to catch and at what time it left. Whilst some people did try to help me find the bus, nobody really could give me coherent information and official at the bus terminal was as useless as they get. As I was trying to get my head around the bus system, the driver of a shared taxi approached me and offered to take me to the border for 50 Surinamese Dollars (the equivalent of approximately 15 US Dollars), which sounded like a reasonable price. There was already another passenger in the taxi and, when he was not listening, the driver whispered to me not to tell the other passenger how much I had paid since I was paying much less than him. It was fine by me so I said nothing at all.

Sunset in Paramaribo

After a couple of hours, we finally arrived at Albina and saw the Marowijne River right behind the immigration office. I tried to change money outside the office from Surinamese Dollars to Euros but the exchange rate offered by the men in the street was terrible. I felt that I had no choice so I let myself get ripped off, but only afterwards did I realise that I could have walked a few minutes towards the little town itself and may have got myself a much better exchange rate since several boats were ferrying passengers back and forth across the river from there. To make up for this, after completing my immigration procedures with the Surinamese authorities, I sneaked onto the ferryboat for cars amongst a big group of Surinamese golfers and didn’t pay a penny for the ride (it generally would cost something like 5 Euros to cross the river).

The Marowijne River, separating Suriname from French Guiana

As the ferryboat approached the town of St. Laurent du Maroni in French Guiana (which is officially French territory and therefore part of the European Union), I got ready to face one of the trickiest parts of my travel due to the incredibly high cost of things there. I realised that the only way to keep my costs down was to do free camping and try to hitchhike my way across the French territory as I made my way back towards Brazil. But that’s a story I will tell in the next blog entry – in the third and final part of my crossing of the Guianas.

The Crossing of the Guianas – Part 1: From Brazil to the South of Guyana

One of the most intriguing parts of planning the overland crossing of South America was figuring out a way to cross the Guianas (as Guyana, Suriname and French Guiana as collectively referred to) on a low budget. Guyana and Suriname are independent countries whilst French Guiana (or Guyane, as the French call it) is still officially a part of France – and therefore the European Union. Not many people attempt to cross the Guianas overland as part of a longer backpacking travel and therefore there isn’t too much useful information about this on the internet. The little available online information indicates that such a crossing is expensive and can be a hassle. Yet, there was something that drew me to this rather unknown part of the world. These were the territories of South America which I could never remember at school and with a colonial history and influence very distinct from the rest of South America. 

Map of the Guianas

Guyana and Suriname share a lot of cultural similarities with the Caribbean islands and actually consider themselves as part of the Caribbean in their political unions and most other spheres. For example, they compete in sports with the Caribbean countries. Yet, no matter what anyone says or does, they are geographically part of South America – and no travel around the continent would be complete without at least a glimpse into the diversity of these three very particular territories (I cannot use the collective term ‘countries’ since French Guiana is still a colony). I had two aims with this part of the travel: to learn about these territories and their culture, and to face the challenge of what could indeed be a complicated but interesting crossing. Through the following blog entries, I hope to shed some light on backpacking in this part of the world for anyone who may try to follow a similar path in the future. Therefore, I’ll go into the logistics of the travel as much as possible.

 

Creole cuisine in Lethem (Guyana)

For this part of the travel, Sofia and I decided to split due to the complications she would have faced to obtain visas as an Ecuadorian citizen. She would have needed to apply for visas for Guyana and Suriname and a Schengen visa for the EU to enter French Guiana. As a British citizen, I wouldn’t need a visa for any of the three countries (I’ll count French Guiana as a country - indeed it is French territory so one is entering into France). The only thing I will need is a tourist card for Suriname which I can get from Georgetown, the capital of Guyana (I will talk about this in my next blog entry on Georgetown). Keep in mind that citizens of several countries do need a visa to enter Suriname so it’s best to check out if you may need to apply for one whilst planning your travel. Whilst I cross the Guianas, Sofia will head back down to Manaus and catch a cargo ship down the Amazon River towards the Brazilian city of Belem, stopping in Santarem and Alter do Chao along the way. My own plan was to reach Belem from the north after leaving French Guiana and to meet Sofia there on a tentative date (we’d wait for each other in Belem if one of us is delayed).

Despite the fact that they border with each other, it isn’t possible to cross overland from Venezuela to Guyana due to political tensions between the two countries so I had to return to Brazil first and enter from there. After leaving the Venezuelan border town of Santa Elena and crossing over to Pacaraima in Brazil, Sofia and I caught a shared taxi to Boa Vista (30 Brazilian Reales each for a ride of about two and a half hours) and headed straight to the bus station to buy tickets for the following day – she to Manaus and me to the town of Bonfim, on the Brazilian border with Guyana. The ticket from Boa Vista to Bonfim cost me 18.50 Reales, with the bus leaving very early the following morning.

The area between Venezuela, Brazil and Guyana

At this point, I was running low on Reales and didn’t want to exchange my US dollars in order to save them for Argentina, where the exchange rate for dollars is very good on the informal market. Sofia didn’t have a penny of Brazilian money so we tried to withdraw Reales from an ATM at the Boa Vista bus station. We got a nasty surprise when both my and her credit and debit cards didn’t work, despite trying with more than one card on more than one occasion. I had just about enough money to pay for the bus tickets and for a very cheap room in dodgy hotel near the bus station for the night, but not much more. We headed into town to look for ATMs that could give us cash. None worked. I was very concerned about the situation since I was really low on cash even if I did use the dollars I had left with me - and crossing the Guianas is a potentially expensive affair. I had read that there are no banks in the Guyanese town of Lethem, on the other side of the border with Brazil.

Having no luck with the banks and ATMs, Sofia and I walked across the centre of Boa Vista, which has practically no historical buildings worth seeing but does have a charming modern area next to a river lined up with sandy beaches. It seems like a pleasant enough city but not really a touristy one. Sofia and I remained hungry that night, fearful of ending up totally cashless unless we manage to solve our problems with accessing money.

 

The sandy beach along the river in Boa Vista

I woke up very early the following morning to get my bus to Bonfim which departed at 7am. Sofia accompanied me to the bus station and I wished her good luck for her first solo backpacking travel. I calculated that we would see each other after approximately two weeks in Belem, at the mouth of the Amazon River. Despite being somewhat concerned for Sofia, I felt that backpacking alone for a couple of weeks will do her good and help her become more self-confident as a traveller. At times, I can be a bit overpowering and always have a plan when backpacking, leaving little room for Sofia to learn from experience and improve her travelling skills.

The bus heading to Bonfim passed through dry savannah territory and a number of cattle ranches along the way. We initially stopped in the town of Bonfim itself after about two and a half hours, which looks rather small and still under construction. I was told to stay on the bus since the border was still a few minutes’ drive away and the bus could stop me right outside the Brazilian immigration office. I noticed a couple of other travellers on the bus – they seemed like tough and experienced travellers and I was glad that they were heading the same way. We started to chat once we got off the bus and headed towards the Brazilian immigration office, all three of us carrying heavy backpacks. James and Debbie are an English couple in the middle of a year-long travel across Central and South America. They’re both teachers and James is also an artist (quite a talented one, I would later find out). We got our passports stamped by the Brazilian immigration authorities and now had to head towards the Guyanese part of the border. 

There were taxis outside, offering (for what seemed like a rather high price) to drive us along the couple of kilometres which separated us from the Guyanese immigration office. We declined the taxi drivers’ offers and walked across the border, backpacks and all. We crossed a bridge in a rather dusty area, and realised that we were now in Guyana. It took us about 15 to 20 minutes to get to the Guyanese immigration office. The Guyanese officials were very polite but they checked our bags thoroughly and were the first border officials on this travel who asked for the yellow vaccination certificate, which we thankfully all had with us. They wanted to ensure that we had been vaccinated for yellow fever. I had heard that Brazilian border authorities also ask for the yellow vaccination card, but I didn’t get asked for this on both occasions when I entered Brazil overland within the past few weeks. One of the Guyanese immigration officials also insisted that I give him an address where I’ll be staying in Guyana, so I borrowed the guidebook of the English couple and picked a random hotel name and address. I wrote it down for the official and he seemed pleased enough with that.

After the completing the Guyanese border formalities, where I heard English spoken as a first language by locals for the first time in a couple of years, the English couple and I decided to walk to the centre of Lethem until we realised that Lethem is actually spread out over a large area with no real centre and that it would take us ages to get anywhere. We therefore negotiated with a taxi driver to take us into town for a total of 9 Brazilian Reales (3 Reales each instead of 10 each as initially requested). He initially asked for much more for what would be a rather short ride but he then lowered the price when we chose to walk, telling us that this was a give-away rate and that it was more like hitchhiking rather than catching a taxi. He tried to make us feel guilty by saying that he has a family to feed. His biting humour (hopefully it was humour) was a stark difference to the Brazilian (and general Latin American) way of communicating. The prices were obviously also very different from other countries in the region. The rasta-haired taxi-driver told us that since we were travelling, then we must be rich. The English couple answered that they were simple teachers in the UK who did not own a home or a car. I explained that we had decided to undertake a nomadic way of life – which is rather true at this point of our lives. I don’t think the tax-driver quite understood.

The wide red dusty roads of Lethem

Debbie was planning her travel by following the advice of a chunky Lonely Planet guidebook that she was carrying with her. She had read about a woman called Shirley who lived in Lethem and could be useful for ideas about things to do in Guyana. My original plan was to cross straight through Guyana and head to the capital, Georgetown, to perhaps go on a day trip from there. Yet, the prospect of seeing something interesting elsewhere in Guyana raised my curiosity so I decided to join the English couple in their visit to Shirley. Meanwhile, I decided to camp in the garden of the Takutu Hotel for the night next to the British couple. I paid 1000 Guyanese dollars (approximately 5 US dollars – the exchange rate is more or less 200 Guyanese dollars for 1 US dollar) to set up my tent in the garden and was given a locker to keep my things in and a bathroom. Once the tents were up, we went out to look for Shirley.

A large house in Lethem

Shirley owns a little shop and bar near the airport, which was only a short walk away from the hotel we were camping at. We easily found her and sat down for a chat. She opened a map of the area (the south west of Guyana) and started telling us about the many things we could do there – but all were extremely expensive. There are a number of lodges around Guyana, in areas of stunning nature and with a lot of wildlife you can observe. Despite having a serious mining issue which is severely disrupting the environment, Guyana also still has immense areas of unspoilt nature. There are two main problems faced by travellers who want to reach these lodges: getting anywhere is absurdly expensive and it isn’t easy to coordinate any cheaper form of transport. Simply forget using public transport – it is mostly non-existent for the time being. I suspect that this will improve over time but, currently, this is the way it is. Generally, one must rent out a jeep – which can cost at least two or three hundred US dollars for a trip of a couple of hours. And that’s just the price to get to the location itself. Then you must pay the really high price to stay at the lodges and there often seems to be no obvious backpacker alternative such as camping or sleeping in your hammock. Perhaps you could look for such places once you get to the area, but would you pay a couple of hundreds of dollars to find out? I suspect that when travel becomes cheaper and more organised, experimenting your way through Guyana will become much more feasible. My major fear is that, currently, you may end up in a remote place and have no other option but to pay a really high price to get back to the main route. Unless you are travelling with a rather big group and can share the cost of a jeep (which is rarely the case with backpackers), it will be very difficult to get any transport for a good value for money.

Out of all the options presented by Shirley, the only interesting thing to do in the area that seemed reasonably priced was a visit to a little ‘Amerindian’ (the name given to indigenous communities in Guyana) village called Nappi, which is about 30 to 40 minutes’ drive away from Lethem along a dirt road. Shirley told us that we could get there by paying 25 US dollars each (a total of 75 US dollars between the three of us – a steep price for a ride of less than one hour).  She then got us in touch with a person who works in one of the lodges in the area, who may be passing through Nappi on the morning of a couple of days later and who could give us a lift back down to Lethem (hopefully for free – but you can never tell in Guyana). She told us that we could camp in the garden of one of the locals in Nappi for a very affordable price. In the end, we decided to go for this option. Debbie and James were really curious to visit a few other places – including an area where there are wild giant river otters and the Iwokrama National Park where there is a canopy walk, which sounds like a fascinating experience. The logistics of how to get to these locations without spending a little fortune seemed extremely confusing so they needed a couple of days to think things over. Meanwhile, the little chat with Shirley and the phone calls she made to check things out for us cost us 25 USD. Again, it seemed overpriced but we paid up – divided by three made the price more affordable but still expensive. I guess information is a valuable item and with so little information out there on travelling in Guyana, someone like Shirley who has information and contacts has a small goldmine in her hands. 

We spent the afternoon roaming around Lethem, a rather dusty and very spread out town with wide roads, which seems to be developing its commerce rapidly to take advantage of its location right at the border with Brazil. The Chinese seem to be investing heavily here, which could have worrying long term consequences for the locals if the true main interest is mining. The majority of locals here are of African origin who are English native speakers. I luckily found a bank in Lethem (there are actually two now) despite the fact that I had read there were none. Apparently the two banks opened here in the past few months. My credit card still did not work, but a very helpful guard noticed by frustration and suggested that the staff at the bank could help out. I ended up making a cash advance using my credit card and managed to solve my money problem. I paid a fee of approximately 15 US dollars but it was well worth it since I was penniless at that point. I made sure I had enough Guyanese dollars to last me till Georgetown.

That night, Debbie talked to a couple of miners (who claimed to be from the United States but who spoke in Spanish between themselves). They openly boasted about how they were here to cut a deal with the locals and find opportunities to make a lot of money. They claimed that the percentage of their revenue that they would have to pay to the local authorities was minimal and that they therefore could make very high profits. It was quite shocking to hear how men like these could possibly destroy the resources of the country and leave practically nothing in return. It seemed to be very similar to the colonial plundering of the past.

 

The following day, Shirley and her Dutch partner, Jan (a charming scientist), came to pick us up in a jeep. It’s funny how the Lonely Planet mentions her and her former partner so people always mistake Jan for her ex-partner. “They need to update their information”, Shirley said. Shirley and Jan were taking a number of items to the village of Nappi and to a nearby lodge since a ‘high profile’ (read as ‘loaded with money’) couple were visiting the lodge that weekend. The jeep zoomed through the dirt road in the dry region, passing by gigantic termite mounds along the way (they can reach over two metres in height). When we finally got to Nappi, we were dropped off in the compound of a little farm where we would be camping. Jan unloaded the goods that the couple had brought with them with the help of some locals. We paid the 75 USD for the ride and the 25 USD we owed Shirley for her services (a total of 100 USD for, give-or-take, a half hour’s worth of work and a jeep ride they would have had to do anyway).

Huge termite mounds on the way to Nappi

Nappi is charming a little village, spread out over a number of little hills at the edge of the dry savannah, right next to the green Kanuku Hills which lead into the jungle. It felt so beautiful and peaceful so I looked forward to spend a couple of nights there. We met our hosts, Eleanor and Michael, who are very sweet and well educated people. Eleanor is a former village chief whilst we eventually found out that Michael was once a member of the Guyanese Parliament as a member of the opposition. Our hosts are not Amerindian (she is of Indian origin whilst Michael is partly of Chinese origin). Indeed, people for India are the largest ethnic group in the country, followed by people of African origin. After chatting with the sweet couple and setting up our tents in their garden, we were introduced to Kevin Thomas, a young Amerindian man from a different village. We hired Kevin as our guide for two days at the cost of 20 US dollars per day (which we shared between the three of us). At first glance, Kevin seems like a carefree young man but, when we got to know him well, we realised that he is an extremely intelligent, caring and ambitious young man. 

Indigenous houses in Nappi with the Kanuku Hills in the background

Amerindian children at their doorstep

On our first morning in Nappi, Kevin took us around the village to visit various people and places of interest. We went to the local school, where we talked to a couple of teachers and a number of students. Some of the children were facing a literature test so they were rather tense! Debbie and James were happy to share few words with the local teachers since they share the same profession. We also visited the health centre where the only staff member had a detailed map of all the families and water wells in the area. There was also information on mosquito-transmitted diseases but were told that there was nothing to worry about in the area. People seemed generally happy to see us since very few foreigners tend to pass through here and take an interest in the local way of life. We then crossed the village and visited an elderly man who makes some amazing sculptures from a rubber-like substance and sells them to people in the area by order. Finally, we visited Kevin’s home, where his pregnant wife and her family were at working making cassava bread (made from the root of the yucca plant). What surprised me is that their method for making this bread, which is so important to indigenous communities in the vast Amazon region, is practically identical to the method used by indigenous people in the Ecuadorian Amazon. It’s fascinating to see such similarities in culture despite the immense distance which separates Guyana and Ecuador.

Outdoor lessons in Nappi's primary school

The wonderful rubber sculptures of nature

Preparing cassava bread the traditional way

That night, we chatted with Michael about life in Guyana and he told us anecdotes from his time as a member of parliament. He feels that corruption has always been a major problem in the country, slowing down progress. He also recalled a time when the two major ethnic groups in the country: those of Indian origin and those of African origin (a result of the country’s colonial past) were facing great tensions in the post-independence period. What’s fascinating about this experience is that the two ethnic groups actually talked the situation over and went off to Ireland to learn from the Irish peace-process. Their intent to search for a peaceful solution to the ethnic tensions is not something very common but eventually led to a much more peaceful situation in the long run. This is surely something Guyana should be commended for. Sadly, Michael has been suffering from a neurological problem which is affecting his body and capacity to move. He therefore needs to do regular exercise to slow down the degeneration of his illness. He chose to move to the quiet Nappi from Georgetown to be surrounded by nature – feeling that this would improve his morale as he struggled to remain mobile.

The wonderful Eleanor and Michael

The following morning, we woke up very early and were picked up by Kevin who planned to take us into the forest that began just before the Kanuku Hills. We aimed to get to the trees before it started to get really hot. We were told that this year, the area around Nappi had only half the rainfall it usually gets and the dryness and heat were afflicting the area. During the rainy season, it’s apparently very difficult to move about since the lower areas are flooded and the dirt roads are rather unusable. The sun was high by the time we reached the trees, but thankfully we cooled down thanks to the shade provided by the dense foliage. This area of vegetation near the village was a mixture between wild nature and some man-made plantations. As one goes further into the hills, the nature becomes wilder until the jungle eventually begins. Our aim was not to go into the jungle but to stop at the small Nappi Falls where we could swim in a natural pool. To get there, we crossed a couple of small rivers and made our way up a trail through the nature.

My tent with the Kanuku Hills in the distance

We chatted with Kevin along the way and he told us that he is not originally from Nappi but actually from a village very far from there, beyond the hills towards the south. Moreover, he is from a different tribe to the one that lives in Nappi so it took a long time for him to be accepted into the new tribe. It was the love for a girl (now his wife) that brought him to Nappi a number of years ago. What struck me about Kevin’s story is the fact that he had not returned to his home village or heard from his family for about six years. It would cost him a ridiculous amount of money to travel to his village. The last time he had gone there, he has walked and it took him a few weeks to get there and back. The village his family is from has no internet or phone connections so communication has been impossible. This shows the major injustice caused by the inexistent public transport system in the country: it makes it impossible for citizens to visit their own families if they live far from each other. Kevin does reckon that this situation must change sooner or later. Michael had mentioned that Guyana will soon have a general election due to a vote of no confidence in the current government. He hopes that the political campaign will focus on solving these serious shortcomings in the country as well as the very high crime rate in Georgetown, which he considers is causing many people to leave the country.

The Nappi Falls - small but beautiful

We spent the afternoon swimming in the cool water beneath the Nappi Falls, with bothersome (and painful) houseflies causing the only nuisance in this paradise. As sunset approached, we made our way back to the village and were stunned by the high amount of wildlife we saw along the way. Kevin was keen to spot as many different birds and animals as possible and was very good at doing so. He had worked for the lodge in the area for a time and had a knack for spotting animals. He told us that he could help us see a whole lot more animals if we stayed overnight in the jungle with him. Considering that we spotted monkeys and a number of wild birds (including a rather rare harpy eagle) so close to the village, I could only imagine how much wildlife one could spot deeper into the jungle. The only problem would be the logistics of staying longer in the area and getting into the jungle. If we could coordinate something with Kevin, we could get a decent price and he could sort things out for us. In the end, we reluctantly opted to simply enjoy these couple of days in Nappi and move on since we had managed to get a free lift to Lethem the following day. Kevin dropped us off on the farm of our hosts at dusk and we said goodbye to this fine young man. He was a great guide and gave much insight into the life of locals around here. Anyone passing through these parts could give him a call (+592 670 7046) and see if they can coordinate something with him.

The natural pool beneath the Nappi Falls

Sunset in Nappi

That night, Michal treated us to the viewing (courtesy of a generator that works at night) of his favourite movie: ‘The Naked Jungle’, starring a young Charlton Heston. Despite the dodgy sounding title, it’s actually a fun and cheesy love story supposedly set in the Amazon – though it hardly looks like the real jungle. The following morning, we were up early to take down our tents and I felt as if I was in the Wild West when a few men had the task of branding the cattle after catching them with a lasso. The make-shift cowboys were not really trained at catching cattle and it took them ages and a lot of laughs to get the job done. The poor cows yelped as the hot poker branded their butts and, on hearing this, an Indian friend of mine reckoned that karma would come and poke us on our butts too in the future!

The cowboy way - trying to lasso cattle

Gotcha! A calf is finally caught for branding

As an Indian friend of mine says, karma will get back at us eventually!

Our lift into town came a few hours late, making us worry whether we really were going to have a lift into town at all – the contrary would have meant looking for a complicated and surely expensive alternative. Thankfully, the person who promised to give us the lift did indeed turn up eventually. Before leaving, we paid Eleanor 1500 Guyanese dollars each per night for allowing us to camp on their farm and we also paid a one time village entrance fee of 1000 Guyanese dollars each (which will go towards the infrastructure of the village). Back in Lethem, I bought myself a ticket to Georgetown for 6pm that same day for the cost of 12,000 Guyanese dollars (about 60 USD). I’m aware that I could have found a ticket elsewhere for 10000 Guyanese dollars but didn’t have the time to go looking around for the cheaper price. Debbie and James decided to remain in Lethem for at least another day to see if they could manage to visit some other areas of this lovely country. Nevertheless, they became more aware of the difficulties in doing so as time went by. A local magazine we read boasted about a recent visit to Guyana of Hollywood actor Channing Tatum and a group of his friends. It stated with pride that internal travel is easy if you hire a few jeeps for yourself and your friends. Photos of Channing and his friends in a convoy of jeeps filled the pages. I suppose it is indeed easy if you have a few thousands of dollars to spare or if you’re a Hollywood superstar.

Michael and Eleanor's amazing farmland

About 30 minutes before my van left from Lethem, I said goodbye to James and Debbie and headed for the departure point. As I entered the cranky and crammed little van that would take me north across Guyana towards Georgetown, I realised I wasn’t going to get much sleep that night. To make matters worse, I was unlucky to sit next to a very chubby Brazilian guy, making my seating space even smaller and crammed. At 6pm, we took off for the bumpy ride to the capital of Guyana. But that is a story to be told in the next blog entry…

Not a comfy ride - the van from Lethem to Georgetown