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.