Lads on tour in Suriname (that well known party destination)

It’s been an interesting week this week. I’m currently not actually legally in French Guiana as I skipped past the border post at the weekend on our return from Suriname on Sunday, and so have a missing exit stamp that I need to go back and get sometime this week probably. I also had my first thrilling taste of French health care today, when I finally decided that the weird bubbling scabbing growing thing on my right foot, wasn’t just a casual mosquito bite that I had scratched. Not really sure what it is but apparently it’s like microscopic flea things chilling out under my skin having a good munch and then moving further along the foot when they have sufficiently killed the rest of the skin. (I hope no one is eating while reading this.) Sounds nice doesn’t it! So, for the next three days I have to mash up some tablets, mix it with cream put it on the foot, and also take some normal tablets. And pay 50 Euros for the pleasure.  Will deffs be claiming that one back. We had also another faux pas yesterday when, my housemate decided to be nice and bring my bike to the supermarket to meet me so I could walk home. Dunno how, but the wheel does not look wheel shaped right now, so we are on a mission to get it fixed before I have to trek to my Amerindian villages on Thursday and Friday. On a plus note... a first bit of mail for me came and I am now the proud owner of the newest series of Made in Chelsea, and all episodes of Gavin and Stacey. That should help the 4 weeks until Christmas go quickly! Also, I finally have a French bank card AND the pin number for it! Shame my first exciting purchase was foot cream.

All the bad luck aside, we have just spent a very nice weekend in Paramaribo, Suriname. Why did we go there I hear you ask? Well, if you want a good night out, and any reasonably priced clothes/ items, turns out you have to cross a border to a whole new country. So, after finishing my hard day of 2 classes on Friday (one was cancelled, as apparently seeing a circus performer is more important than an English class with me (pffftt), we put on our rucksacks and walked to the border. It had been a whole 13 days since we last we out of Guyane, think we did well to last so long! On the other side we were packed into a taxi who assured us that he had only 2 places left in his car and that he would be leaving immediately. Turned out, we were the only ones in the car, and leaving immediately meant driving around the town, and back to the border, approximately 4 times for over an hour until the car was full. Even then, after the hour we were moved to another taxi and somehow ended up being charged more than we had originally agreed. Fail. Upon arrival, we discovered that where we had planned to stay was full. I suppose thats what you get when you rock up on one of the busiest weekends of the year (independence day) without a reservation. This turned out to be fortuitous in that we stumbled across a really nice hotel (by my standards) with an actual bathroom with an actual bath, an actual duvet and actual air-con, with an actual telly. We are not used to these comforts chez nous! You know you live in French Guyana when you walk into a room and proclaim how utterly freezing it is, only to check the temperature on the air conditioning to find it is actually still a balmy 28 degrees. The move to this hotel was also unfortuitous as it used up most of our budget for the weekend. Oops. We had been paid, so oh well.

basically my name on a portaloo company!

That night we hit the town, checked out the waterfront and marvelled at what it must be like to live in a place with actual people doing actual things at the weekend. Trust me, I never thought I would utter the words, yeh, i’m hitting up Paramaribo tonight for a big one :S I mean, it may be better than here, in St. Laurent du Maroni, but it is by no means world class night life. The next day we accidentally slept til 1 o’clock, but to be fair, it was the first comfy non-mosquito riddled night I had had for a while, so that was fine. Except for the fact that all the shops shut around 2 o’clock on a Saturday which made our planned shopping day a little difficult. We won’t go into the palava I had trying to buy a keyboard, but all you need to know is that I do not have one. Or a bikini. Or sunglasses. Or in fact anything that I went to Suriname to buy. We spent the afternoon wandering around, attempting to buy things, eating... But around five we gave up and headed back to the hotel for a bottle of champagne with a nice hot bath. Turned on the telly after my bath to discover frozen planet was on. In English! Absolute win. I can say without doubt it is the most comf I have been since we got here. It didn’t last however, as we had to get back on it to attend a massive reggae concert for the Independence Day. Some guy, called Jah Cure. He must be big over here because girls were literally crying when he threw his smelly towel at them! Even the prime minister of Suriname came on stage to say hi so the whole thing must have been a bit of a big deal. Not going to lie, I was tired, and believe me, it is hard to tell the difference between reggae songs. The coolest part was just watching how people here behave at a concert, how they dance, where they stand, what they drink, etc. So even if the music wasn’t thrilling, I still enjoyed it. And my main man JAH took his shirt off at the end so it can’t be all bad.

Another good sleep and breakfast come lunch, then it was Sunday, chill day! Because normally my life here is so stressful :S We checked out some independence day markets and celebrations, but didn’t last too long before we headed to a bar with a pool and plonked ourselves there for the afternoon. One cheeky last luxury of a mcflurry in the taxi on the way back to the border, and it was across the river in yet another canoe and back to the Maroni massif!

On another note, it’s nearly December and it does not feel like it at all. The people downstairs have put up a Christmas tree which just seems ridiculous but I don’t suppose it is. As well, I am supposed to be starting Christmas activities at school this week or next. When i’m finished drawing monsters that is, which is this week’s activity. I did some maths yesterday, and worked out that there are only 15 more week of teaching until I am finished teaching, as I still have 6 weeks of holiday to look forward to before the end of April. Jokes. So, as for me, I will be off, have to go and pay the doctor, as I forgot to take money with me earlier. I have also been attempting to go jogging which is easier said than done in this kind of heat- especially with worms growing in your feet. Mmm. Lovely. Might just have to watch Gavin and Stacey instead!

Dear French Guiana.....

Dear French Guiana,

During the two months that I have lived here, I have managed to compile an interesting list of queries. I doubt you will be able to tell me the answers, as I suspect that probably, there are none, but still. In no particular order:

1)      Why is it that in the “national newspaper” which consists, on a daily basis, of 24 pages, 5 of these pages, on a daily basis, contain information on seemingly every horse race that has taken place in the world that day. I have yet to see a single bookie’s for anyone to use this information within.

2)      Why do you have such a grand issue (so big that you feel the need to make posters) with people wanting to buy a single yogurt and not a whole pack from the corner shop?

3)      Why do the bins get collected THREE times a week, when you do not have enough money to provide some of the classrooms in my school with electricity?

4)      And a further note on bins, why is it that you have to get your bin from a specific, government owned bin-buying place? And how come said bin-buying place is only open Wednesday morning from 8-12 as that is the only time the bin-selling man is around? Is he the only one capable of bin-selling?

5)       Why do you greet people with “bonsoir, when it is barely lunchtime?

6)      Why is it that the children in your school system think that the only other countries in the world are America, or part of Metropolitan France?

7)      Why, oh why does a loaf of sliced bread cost 4,90 euro from the supermarket?

8)      And why are pineapples small and very expensive here when we live in the right part of the world?

9)      Why is it that, at the beginning of every month when the benefits are given out, that every atm in town runs out of money as people rush to buy their month’s supply of rum and cigarettes? Could you not plan ahead for this?

10)   Why is it that a full-time teaching position is only 18-hours when every other country in the world thinks 40 is more appropriate?

11)   Does the town really need to shut down EVERYTHING for a four-hour nap between 12-4pm? Surely, 2 hours would suffice for a nice lunch and a lie-down.

12)   Why is it that glamour magazine has only 1,50 euro written in massive letters on the front but when I get to the till you try to charge me 5,20 euro?

13)   Why even bother with a weather report in the newspaper, when all it does is choose a different adjective for hot and sunny each day?

14)   Why are the phone contracts SO rubbish? No, phone credit should not have an expiry date. It is clearly a non-perishable item.

15)   Why can’t a mosquito just bite me and leave, does it have to stay and hang out and invite friends and extended family round to my toes for an all-night rave?

16)   Why is it 35 euro’s for a taxi ONE-WAY to Cayenne, a three-hour journey, when you can get to Georgetown, Guyana, a city two countries away, for less?

17)   Why is air-conditioning not compulsory in all accommodation?

18)   Why is it IMPOSSIBLE for me to get a bank card, no matter how many times I go into the bank with which I have an account, and ask a different receptionist. Baring in mind that this is a feat in itself given your ridiculous opening hours?

I think that is enough query-ing for one day. If you have any answers to any of the above I would love to be enlightened. I will bear in mind that you will only be able to reply on either a Monday morning between 8am-10am (when I happen to be working), or a Thursday afternoon between 4-7pm (the one day the cinema has a showing), as these are the only times you can bother to be open.

Thanks,

Polly Johnson

(confuddled english assistant)

(still without bank card, dustbin, pineapples or glamour magazine)

Liming Trinidad style.. with welsh accents???

It’s been a while but the blog is back! Truth is, between all the liming and swanking in Tobago, followed by a severe bout of homesickness and tiredness, followed by a challenging 10-hour work week that I have yet again been faced with, there has been little time for blogging. But here I am, yet again sweating away in the room (even though it’s 9pm) I’ve got trance music on in the background- partly because I’m half asleep, partly because it’s the only music on the computer since I can’t be bothered to plug in the hard-drive. Anyway, here goes.

                Last time we spoke, we were in Georgetown. It’s safe to say that that feels like months potentially years ago, and not the actual 12 days that have past since I last wrote. We had thought ahead, and, as Georgetown is considered fairly notoriously dangerous in these parts, we decided on a hotel with a club downstairs to avoid any awkward walking home scenarios. This was a très bon plan. We grabbed the cards and headed down to the bar for around 8. So, Mr. Barman, what time does it get busy around here? Barman: Er, around 2am if you’re lucky. Hmm, ok, whats the cheapest drink.... Barman: well girls, looks like buying a bottle of rum is going to be your best option. Us: Ok! I guess we could manage that. He was right, the party didn’t really get started until pretty late and by this time we were on bottle of rum number two. Somewhere along the way we ordered the spiciest noodles and chicken on the actual planet, and Lucy took the tactic of stuffing her mouth with napkin, whereas I ran to the room tears in my eyes in a desperate search for the last gulp of water. Olivia at this point was somewhere on the other side of the bar sandwiched between two dodgy-looking creatures trying to escape without  being taught how to dance Guyana style :P Not quite sure if the food came before or after the gunshots, but I guess thats how it goes in Guyana. We heard four shots fired, in CLOSE proximity to the bar, as in, outside. We looked at each-other as if to say, surely not? We then looked at the barman, who shrugged as if to say, classic Thursday.  Lucy ran outside, ran back in to announce that a man had been shot dead in the car... oh wait correction, the shots were fired into the air and everyone should just get on with their lives. Shortly before being tempted by bottle number 3 we trekked home (up the stairs) and all managed to pass-out leaving the room key in the door the whole night. Who said Guyana was not a safe place?

                The next morning was NOT great. Lucy was searching for A bank, ANY bank, that would accept her card, Olivia was tired and wanting to go to museums, and I was beginning to feel the ramifications of the noodles with a little thing that starts with a D and rhymes with Onomatopoeia. Great. We somehow made it lunch, after having got far too close for comfort in the room toilet which conveniently had no door, and then we were off to Guyana’s version of centreparks. Turns out, Guyanas version of centreparks is not like centreparks. Its more like, a dirt track with a small sign and a couple of umbrellas next to a toilet block round a lake. We didn’t have a reservation (even though we had called ahead and been assured this was fine) so getting us a tent set-up seemed to be quite an effort for the staff. As did taking the boat to get us some water for the night (silly us, presuming there would be somewhere to buy water). But by the evening (apart from the fact i spent most of it in the toilet, we were beginning to like the place. As we had accidentally refused security guards thinking it was joke, the manager and 2 employees had to sleep on a bench outside our tent  to protect us... from spiders apparently :S I don’t think they often have groups of 4 young white Europeans coming to stay often as we were about the only white people we saw in the whole country apart from the airport, and some guys on a dermatology conference! Random :S

                Over the weekend we made friends with most of the staff, played volleyball, went canoeing, played lots of cards, Introduced Guyana to vodka and coke... when we ordered it, the bar lady was like, you do know you drink that with sprite right. Ahem... you may win on the Rum front, but, I think the English (ok, maybe Russians) know what they are talking about when it comes to Vodka. We also came across my roommate who appeared like a new castaway on shipwrecked on a boat across the lake. Apparently our instructions to get to Georgetown, call this number and speak to a woman called Susanna worked! She had traversed all of Suriname and Guyana in about 36 hours due to a doctor’s appointment required for her visa. But she made it. Taxi was ordered- again Susanna, what a life saver!

                Next morning we were on the plane to Trinidad!  Oh, not before we had paid the departure tax. Olivia, who had bought pounds specifically for the purpose as for some reason they were accepted, and had NOT forgotten to mention her good planning MANY a time, had a minor (read HILARIOUS) breakdown when the woman looked at her SCOTTISH tenner and was like... er, no. HA! Olivia: But this is legal tender! Woman: No Olivia: This country is soooo racist (rather too loud). Ok great, time to get through security :S

                We arrived at the hostel in Trinidad and were swiftly taken to a bar by the owners. Fun fact: the Trinidad accent, is tres WELSH. Literally, on the plane, me and lucy were like, hold up, are we off to port-of-spain or Cardiff?? Anyway, we got the bar at around 1:30pm and were persuaded to have one drink before some sight-seeing. Do I even need to tell you what happened next? 2-hours later, barely able to string a sentence together between us, we were stood in a line for a party boat, half a fried chicken in one hand (lining the stomach came a bit too late) 2 vodcrans (new abbriev for Vodka Cranberry) balancing in the other as we boarded the boat. I wish I could say it was amazing, you know what, from the pictures it looks that way, but unfortunately, we all have a memory blackout from approximately the same point in time, i.e the time between boarding and being in bed at the hostel. What I do know is that apparently my taxi-ordering skills are not that great at this level of drunkness as no taxi appeared soooo we had to hitchhike to the airport, and missed our flight :S Luckily, the kind people of Caribbean airlines put us on the next one to Tobago, and off we went. The hostel was by far nicer than my house here, we had a room just for us, ensuite air-con, for a bargain 10 pounds a night. Plus, on the first night, we got a free dinner (fish fresh from the ocean, with CABBAGE (we don’t have that here in the forest)), rum, and to round off the evening, a boat trip to the middle of the sea. There is this part called nylon pool, about a 15 minute boat ride from the bay where the water is shallow enough for you to stand up! Music on, rum in hand, dive in! Thats how it is done in Tobago. We were Liming (drinking/ going out) and Swanking (dancing) and Winding (more dancing) for a good couple of hours before it started to get a bit chilly.

                The next day was an all day boat trip of much the same. We did a cruise round the coastline, followed by a tasty bbq on a deserted beach, followed by more liming and a bonfire on another beach. We were told that the trip officially finishes at 4/5pm but that if you are loving it sometimes its more like 9pm. I think I got back just before midnight :S Oh and the boat left without me and Olivia so we had to sneak onto another boat and hope for the best. I did have a cheeky nap on the ride back. Managed to find some munchies on the walk back... yet again my stomach did not thank me for this .

                Yet another busy day the next day- we rented a car :S So you needed to be over 25 and have your license with you. We were like, ok, we have 3 over-25s, none of whom have their license, two 21-yr olds with licenses and 2 useless people (me and Olivia) what can you do for us? As we had acquired 7 people by this point, it was more of a minibus but it was fun and Lucy did an admirable job driving.  We got to drive round most of the island throughout the day, found a lovely beach for lunch. Admittedly I napped through most of the scenic sunset, but I did awake in time for us to pull up to the cinema for the opening day of SKYFALL. Now, this may not sound that exciting to you lot, but you have to understand, a) the cinema is St. Laurent has fleas, was last redecorated sometime in the 60’s and has a sound system equivalent to hearing the person next to you’s headphones. B) it is in French. Neither of these factors are conducive to James Bond viewing. Thus, we were tres excited to see it in a nice cinema, that sold popcorn, and that was in English. And we loved it! Although at the first shot of London, Lucy grabbed my hand and we both sort of had an awwww... look at our rainy homeland, I want to be there :S moment. Olivia, being Scottish, nearly died of happiness at the line: welcome to Scotland. Thank-you to the banter bus (the rental car) for getting us there and back, although we almost didn’t have time for a subway beforehand. Wouldn’t have mattered anyway as they had run out of meatballs and the toaster was broken. WHAT EVEN IS THAT??

                We almost made the sunrise the next morning in the banter bus, except we always seemed to be on the wrong road, oh, and one the wrong side of the island to be able to see it. Oh well, we had a nice drive around and got some delicious doubles- Tobago breakfast food. Hard to explain, but basically a sweet, eggy half omelette half pancake thing wrapped around spicy chickpeas with sauce and deliciousness. Stodge alert, but at 40p each it was rude not to have two.

                And this is basically how we spent our days in Tobago, boating, liming, EATING, chilling, beaching, exactly what we had planned for. Oh, and I did spend a casual 20 hours sleeping in the air-con on the last day- totes knackered and not looking forward to my sweaty place back in French land. Oh, and the 8 hours we sat at Trinidad airport waiting for our transfer, reading US tabloids (English magazines= excitement!!!) We timed it just right, as the man was replacing all the ones on the rack for the ones for the next week. Erm, excuse me sir, (flutter eyelashes) what is it that you do with the old ones exactly, now you have the new ones... you see we are English and we would LOVE some English magazines, as we are going to a place where this does not exist. He must have seen the desperation on our faces as  we managed to get away with 9 Tabloids for the price of 3. YESSSSS. I now know far too much about every celebrity on the planet, but I don’t care. I needed a bit of gossip after 6 weeks in the middle of nowhere.

And then we got on the plane back to Suriname and the holiday was over. Getting back was a little traumatic but we will talk about that next time. I have just racked up 2,098 words of a blog post (for anyone that is stilllll reading (hi dad!). This is approximately 66% of the total amount of words I must write towards my degree this year. WHAT A JOKE.

Not sure I am lovinglife2k12 at the moment, bit of an après-holiday downer, but don’t worry I am at least likinglife/ dealingwithlife2k12.

Love to all!!

xxx

Polz, Lolz and Olz take the Guyanas by Storm

I write this from GEORGETOWN, GUYANA... which means that since we last spoke I have somehow managed to traverse a couple of countries without injury or incident- win! And they speak English here, perf! Although I must say its weird to understand what men yell at you in the street, at least when its in Spanish normally I don't have much of a clue...

It all started on friday night, when Oli and Luc rocked up to our humble abode in St Laurent after hitchhiking from Cayenne. We ordered some delish flash pizza and after a cheeky photo the guy gave us not 1 but 5 stamps on our loyalty card. FREE pizza here we come! After some despo's (the cool persons name for desparados) we checked out the mombari, the ONLY bar in the whole of the centre-ville. But despite the worlds WORST dj and overpriced Caiprinhas we still managed to have a good time. Even my housemate Dmitri showed up, still wearing the bluetooth headpiece that he seems to have attached to him at all times :S

Saturday morning the plan was to be up bright and early to catch a pirougue (canoe with a motor sort of thing) to Suriname. So... mid morning we rolled out of bed, un peu hungover, had to check the internet for some important details, buy some credit SO basicallly it was lunch before we had walked to the border. Lucy, in her wisdom was all, guys, in St georges, you DO NOT need to go to the french guiana border. Great. However this is not st georges, and im pretty sure you generally have to leave one country before you enter the next one. We showed up at the stamping man post and she was like, so, how does this work? I mean, do I actually need to be here, or can i just go straight across. No. Turns out you do need a stamp- the first evidence of French Guiana in my passport.

The crossing to Albina only takes around 10 minutes and once on the other side, we went into grandma's bedroom (it literally had flowery curtains and a cutesy sign saying immigration on the door) to get a stamp. Only one of us could fit in the room at a time it was more like a cupboard. Bants. We packed into a waiting minivan after some serious bartering - seems we are finally in South America- and we were on the way to Paramaribo the capital... a 3 hour journey. After 1 and a half hours we were crossing the bridge which signals the entrance to the city- thankfully I was asleep for most of it so missed out on the horrors that were probably unfurling on the dirt track before me. After some confusion with directions and addresses we ended up hanging our hammocks in the garden of a french guesthouse and as luck would have it we managed to sneak a lift with another lady there to Brownsberg nature reserve the next morning.

We had heard about a Jazz festival going on in Paramaribo but had also been told you had to have an invitation so we werent holding out too much hope, but then, whilst drinking a casual pineapple juice in a cafe, one of the guys working there came over and was like, er, girls, if your free tonight, come to the Jazz festival, and gave us an invitation. 2 hours later, the same guy saw us walking, lost, down some random road searching desperately for a curry. GIRLS, he shouted? Where the hell are you going?? Get in. So we got in the car and he dropped us off at Roopram, the mcdonalds of curry here in Suriname. Awkward moment when: no one who works there speaks English and your Dutch is about as good as your outer mongolian. Solution?? Lucy making clucking and moo noises to indicate that we would ideally prefer a beef or a chicken based curry. After much laughing from the servers, we were presented with some food, which could have been either of the two, or something else a lot more sinister. But it was still good, despite the fact that we were now left in the middle of a road in the middle/ outskirts of a city where we deffo do not speak the language. We walked it and arrived back to the hammocks EVENTUALLY.

Time to get all dolled up for the Jazz festival. This involved turning the knickers inside out and putting on a third layer of deodarant to go with the clothes we'd been wearing all day, because a) we packed tres light and b) we all forgot shampoo or any other product that actually cleans you when you have a shower.
Upon arrival at the closing night of the Jazz festival, it became clear that there had been a mistake in giving us an invite. The cream of the Paramaribo elite were looking their best, all glammed in heels and hair that doesn't look like its been dragged through several hedges sideways. This didn't really matter in the end, as no sooner had we worked out the complicated drinks buying system, buying a ticket from one lady, then taking the ticket to another man, who then chose to ignore you for an extended period of time under the guise of having run out of cups.... was there a powercut. We heard about three or four quite cool pieces of Jazz from an international group on stage, before the whole thing went eerily quiet. Luckily no one seemed too bothered so everyone continued hanging out, and a bit later some musicians saved the day with a cheeky un-microphoned version of o when the saints. If thats not a cue to leave, I dont know what is. On the walk home, the same guy that had picked us up earlier shouted across the street inviting us to the afterparty. Despite the fact he was wearing a tshirt that had a picture of kermit in boxers that said kermit klein, we declined.

The next morning we were up nice and early for a taxi to take us to the minibus stop to take us to the town near to the nature reserve we were aiming for. Lovely experiment with Surinamese public transport. Oh well, still better than french guyana where transport does not even exist. We arrived in the town 13km away from the nature reserve and BOY I have never been so frusutrated trying to get 13km. To start off with we were two hours early for the pick up that was arranged by the woman at the hostel, so we waited. But then it didn't come, for over an hour. From somewhere we found a phone number from the place who assured us that it was coming. We waited another hour. After 4 hours of waiting some Dutch guys came along who had just returned from the park, and luckily one of them agreed to speak on the phone for me. HE, again, assured me that the bus was coming. And finally after 5 hours it showed up. We could have definitely walked it quicker. Nightmare. We first had to sneak onto the bus as we didnt actually have any right to be in the park as normally you have to have prior authorisation from the office in Paramaribo. It was shut at the weekend so we just went for it.

Upon arrival, we looked at the man and said, ok, so, we dont have a reservation but we have our own hammocks and we promise to make you smile if you let us stay :D:D It must have worked because within 5 mins we were setting up our hammocks in a little carbet and whipping out some peanut butter sandwiches to keep us going. Shortly after, Alex, the Canadian (by far the most banterous Canadian any of us has ever met), showed up and we all boarded the banter bus down to a waterfall for an evening shower. Later that evening things got a bit dangerous when Lucy brought out the 90% PETROl... sorry RuM that she had kindly bought with our money. Ok, so admittedly between the 4 of us we did manage to finish it, with only a few spilt drinks, one lost camera, one vomcano and NUMEROUS cringe-worthy video reminders to remember the evening by.

Funnily enough I managed to sleep RATHER well in the hammock that night, even got quite a nice lie-in. Olivia was feeling rather worse for wear after her stunning passing out on the table performance the night before so we decided that a 5 hour walk down and then back up a mountain would be a good cure for this. Not sure if it was but we got some exercize, some good views and Lucy even saw an Ape sized monkey hanging out in the trees! That night, though, sadly Alex had left the banter bus some newbies joined and we had a singalong with a guitar and a sunset and nature. CHeesefest! The next day after another visit to a closer waterfall- dont expect too much we were told, its basically like two men peeing over a hill. Ok, so it was more like 6 men peeing but still...

And then it was time to leave Brownsberg after three lovely days with lovely people and lovely nature stuff and not so lovely hammocks and mosquitos. Some VERY kind people offered us a lift in their truck almost all the way back to Paramaribo saving us lots of money and giving us the experience of blocking off a bus on a highway jumping out a car and jumping on the bus and paying 20p for the 40 minute journey into town.

The last couple of days have been spent doing my first ever bit of COUCHSURFING! First of all with Eli in Parimaribo, who lived near a delish noodles shop and let us have our first shower in wayyyy tooo many days, and then after a cheeky big mac and cone the next morning, we headed to Nieuw Nickerie where her sister was waiting for three random English girls and this time we had some more delish chinese food. They were both soooo Lovely and helpful and it was really nice to hear more about how Suriname came to be from people whose families have been here since the slaves came over a LONG time ago. We also got in a cheeky episode of America's next top model, which was the first tv I have watched in about 6 weeks and very much enjoyed!

AND now, after a little ferry excursion which I will get into at a later date we are here in Georgetown, heading to Trinidad on sunday and then tobago on monday. Life is so hard. not going to lie, the thought of going back to teaching heads, shoulders knees and toes in a week is not an altogether pleasant one.

Laterz Alligaterzzzz
Polz