Bring on the rain....

             Luckily the rain waited until AFTER I had finished teaching for the week. A 15km/45min soaking wet journey does not appeal massively :S But pretty much since Friday it has been rain times! Don't get me wrong, its not all day, I can still have a nice 2 hour swim in the outdoor pool, or sit and have a juice and a cookie from the hut on the river, but for a few hours each day it is tempting to snuggle up in my sleeping bag and nap the day away. So far I have been quite enjoying it. After months of feeling guilty for spending a single second inside when the weather is so nice, finally, it is cold enough to wear trousers (sort of- if you put the fan on full) and not feel bad for watching three episodes of Gavin and Stacey back to back.
         

  In other exciting news, I arrived home on Thursday (after a cheeky desparados and lesson planning sesh) to find internet installed and working in our flat. YAY! No more having to trek to the supermarket for my limited 90 mins before the battery runs out. I've even worked out how to get Iplayer working. Ok, so in the new year I'm going to try and not just chill and watch English tv/radio, but for now, its Christmas, its raining, my roommate has left so I have the room to myself, Im going to make the most of it.
            Its not been a particularly exciting week, in fact I have been fairly healthy. Lots of yoga, Lots of swimming, Lots of vegetables, and No Alcohol (1 desparados in 10 days does not count)! In fact its been an actual detox! Not sure what Im going to do with the 15 plantains and the 5 Aubergines that I have to eat before wednesday but Im sure we can find a use for them.  Bikini body for Miami, here we come. (5 days to go!) I've checked the weather forecast and apparently its around 25. Will be taking a hoodie and jeans.
           On Friday, I went to one of my schools (voluntarily!) for the Christmas party, and got to see Santa arriving in a canoe from across the river while all the children sat and waited. Potentially the worst Santa costume EVER but I suppose you have to work with what you've got here. The kids then sang some songs (the 10-year old conductor did a VERY interesting job)... and sat down for some juice and yule log. I was invited to sit at one of the tables. But, didn't realize that me sitting down, was because they wanted one of the other girls sat there to leave. I explained that this wasn't very nice and why would they want here to leave? I didn't know quite what to do with the response : "Well, we want to have all white people at this table." Right. So, I grabbed an extra chair so no one would have to leave and tried to tell them that this was not an acceptable form of arranging seating. Had a conversation with one of the girls at the table. "Madame, I used to live in Suriname" Me: "Thats nice, whereabouts?" (as in, which city)... "You know, the red house with the white door..."... Me: "?? Oh, yeh.... cool..."
            Im getting ready for battle this afternoon at the supermarche. On a normal day, you have to wait about 20 mins for a free checkout counter, even if you want to buy one item! But today, when it is opening expecially for christmas shopping madness, who knows! I could be there for hours ! whoop. No turkey for me, at this rate it looks like plantain and aubergines with whatever else I can find for a bargain price... i.e- nothing! I also need to get two bottles of wine, which, will probably end up being drunk (obvs) but are primarily to fill the santa trousers wine-carrier my sister felt the urge to send me :D

Mastering "le stop"

Well, it seems like my pleading letter in poor French to post-office customs worked, because I arrived home from a weekend away to find a package awaiting in the mailbox for moi! How exciting. It’s safe to say my inflatable Santa and ridiculous novelty sunglasses are pride of place in the room. Cheers Lor! I even have three wrapped things to open on actual Christmas day. It’s looking likes it going to be a bit of an about-a-boy sort of Christmas. Me on my own watching movies, eating food and drinking wine, but fingers crossed we are getting internet installed chez-nous this week so I should be able to do lots of skyping to get over the loneliness. :S Either way, a group of assistants are coming up on boxing day and then it’s off to Paramaribo on the 27^th to get ready for Miami- so don’t feel too sad for me!

I ticked off another first this weekend. Hitch-hiking. And I didn’t start at the shallow-end. Oh no, as a matter of fact in my first weekend of faire-ing “du stop” I traversed over 500 Kilometres, met 9 friendly and interesting drivers and even got one of them to drop me off at Macdo for a much-needed and long-awaited Hangover maccy-d’s. Bizarrely, it has also been one of the best opportunities that I have had here to practice French for a long period of time with a small group of people (i.e me and Katy and the driver). Here is a brief summary of how I saved 70 euro!

1)      First stop- we had to wait all of two minutes for a car to stop and take us on a brief journey to a better “hitching-spot”. He was a film-maker heading to the beach with his baby daughter Venus in the back of the car!

2)      We hit lucky with the second guy, a Parisian who was on his way to the airport in a swanky rental car after spending three weeks working here, and thus he drove us over 200 kilometres, nearly all the way to Cayenne. He even apologised for not being able to take us all the way... as he was about to be late for the flight!

3)      This guy wasn’t even going the same direction as us but he picked us up anyway, and after a slight detour to pick up and drop off his friend (who gave us some yummy Brazilian food) he drove 30-mins out of his way to drop us off in Remire-Montjoly about 10km outside of Cayenne. We even stopped for a cheeky desperados on the way.

Way home:

1)      A nice portugese teacher again dropped us off at a better starting point and wished us luck in getting ALL the way to St. Laurent by “stop”. I think this was code for, you girls are crazy!

2)      After a bit of competition with a homeless looking man also trying to hitch (we won obviously) a nice couple who have been living here for over 10 years took us an hour or so to Kourou. They have lived in all the major towns in Guyane so it was interesting to get their perspective on the different places and the people that live there.

3)      Ok... so this time we had to wait like, a whole 10 minutes for someone to pick us up, and I was beginning to panic. I even let down the hair and put on the shades and everything. Soon enough another swanky rental car stopped and a woman agreed to take us the 10 or so km t the turn off she was taking. She was new to Guyane having just spent 4 years living in La Réunion. Why she came here I’m not sure. Turns out she got lost, missed the turning and ended up taking us about 30km before having to turn around.

4)      After being dropped off in the absolute middle of nowhere, the problem was not that cars were driving past us. The problem was that there were no cars! Luckily, the very first car stopped for us and the young girl drove us all the way home. Slight incident with the Gendarmes because, she didn’t have an L-plate (apparently you still have to have them for 2 years after you pass or something ridic) and also, they couldn’t find the photo in my passport. I mean seriously, its not that hard. And in record time we were home, in about the same time it would have taken in the taxi. Admittedly, the speedometer in the last car was broken and the girl herself admitted “I honestly have no idea what speed I’m driving. Ha! I think its safe to say it was well over the 90km limit.

Should probably explain why we went to all this effort in the first place. Well, being the socialites that we are here in Guyane :S we had two birthdays to celebrate in one night! The first one was at Olivia’s house (cough: Mansion- don’t even really wanna talk about it... key words: Jacuzzi, pool, 4 FRIDGES!) and it was a surprise party for Laure, another assistant. We showed up with a bottle of rum and soon we were sat drinking in the Jacuzzi catching up with everyone and celebrating our successful journey. Drank some more Rum (quite a lot), had a pizza takeaway, a birthday cake, and then we were off to the second party at Anne’s house. (She is the teacher that came to Trinidad and Tobago with us). Oops- I guess we all forgot it was a fancy dress party. Everyone else looked good though! Quite frankly most of us were too drunk to care. I think I personally managed to drink enough rum for everyone there, and had to have a cheeky sit down for 45 mins and be the DJ as that was all I was capable of doing :S At around 4am – it felt like about midnight in my head- we walked back to Olivia’s and everyone found a suitable hammock/bed/sofa to crash on. My head was not my friend the next morning. Neither was the sunshine. Or the heat. Where is the rainy season that we are supposed to be in the heart of right now ?

                In other news, I’m happy to have made it to the last week before the holidays. Most classes are going well, but some I am on the verge of giving up/ not caring for a couple. If the teacher doesn’t care, why should I? I am not going to waste 45 minutes a week shouting at them, so if they end up colouring for the whole year and not listening to me, so be it! If nothing else, I have learnt that I really don’t want to be a language teacher permanently. On Friday though, i don’t have any classes as it is the school Christmas party, but if I want I can go check it out. Apparently Santa is arriving by pirougue (big canoe). That’s a first for me! But must just be how we do it here in the amazon.

Anyway, so sorry to leave you all wanting more (i’m sure) but Gavin and Stacey is calling me and its almost 11. (I have become a boring old person who likes to be asleep by 11, has to get up at 7 and generally needs at least an hour napping at some point in the day. )

Perhaps over the next week when I have lots of free time (read: awkward Christmas loner with nothing to do) I can entertain/ educate you all with some fascinating and well thought-through insights into this department and its functioning. Then again I could just stick to rum-drinking and general bantering. On verra! 

Dora the (north-west of French Guiana) explorer

Yet another week has passed which means time for another blog. I’m writing this over a delicious dinner of jam and toast with bread that I had to traverse a country to buy (I took the canoe over to Suriname this morning for a cheeky spot of shopping- what is that about??). Let’s just say that with only a small fridge and no freezer between 5 people and an ice-tray that leaks and spills fridge-juice everywhere, I am going to have to start being creative with what can be considered a meal.

Update on all things my life:

The feet: Good news! It seemed for a while over the weekend that the whole fungus/ worm/ unknown thing was improving, however it now seems it could have just been the anti-itch cream which was reducing the reaction. Bad times- it seems to have spread to my hands as well. The whole thing is becoming rather non-drole. But: I’m still trying hard with positivity, so not going to moan.

The Christmas present: So, after having been exciting about a package in the mail coming my way for well over 3 weeks, I received a letter from customs today saying that unless I can provide a receipt for the goods inside it is going to be sent back to England. I am hoping that a handwritten letter explaining that it is a Christmas present from my family and please, please can I have it, will be enough. 

The teaching: Last week I made approximately 200 Christmas cards with the children. I promised to send them all to England. I even promised to send one to the queen.  I am such a liar. This week we are making snowflakes. I’m not even bothering with English anymore, we are going for, this is a cultural thing that all English school children must enjoy every Christmas season. I’m hoping for some more inspiration in the new year.

*Note: Dear teacher of CM2 at Terre Rouge, putting a bag of Christmas decorations on the floor and handing a staple gun to 10-year-old, is NOT an acceptable way to spend 45 minutes.

The Nenge Tongo lessons: Mi wani ferstan Nenge ma a de fanado di mi taki moro. Mi musso du moro! Ha! Try and find a translation for that one on word reference. Two classes in and three to go, I think I really need to do some revision tomorrow. The teacher announced that he was worried about me and Katie’s progress at the last lesson. Well, it is potentially because 1) he goes at a million miles an hour 2) Its the only thing I have actually had to use my brain for, for a number of months or 3) The fact that because he is teaching in French, for us, every word has to go through 2 translations in my head in a number of seconds Nenge-French-English. Even though Nenge is supposedly 45% English based, sometimes when you go through French you lose all sense of the similarity. For instance it took me almost a whole lesson to work out that kondre (con-dree) is actually not that far away from country. Through pays in the middle and its easy to get confused! Never mind. Tomorrow, I plan on doing a cheeky bit of revision with a Desparados when school finishes at 10:30am? Too early for a beer? Well, it is nearly Christmas, not that you would know from the 33 degree-ness that persists.

The weekend: Really fun actually! Laura, a girl that we met in Trinidad and again in Tobago, flew over for a week of exploring South America and came to stay for the weekend. As she arrived on Thursday, we had the perfect excuse for a long weekend. (Ok, I did have to work 3 hours on Friday, but in my mind it was a long weekend.) We rented a car whoop! (we are not going to talk about the 1800 euro deposit on MY card that doesn’t seem to have been refunded yet... am I panicking.. no... not panicking... no panic here.... will check again tomorrow :S) But yes, the car was great for freedom and Friday afternoon we were picking up the car and heading straight for a swim in the river – so much nicer knowing you don’t have to bike back! We then got dragged around by a friend of a friend and ended up at the worst restaurant ever. Waited over an hour to be presented with a pile of soggy chips and a piranha with eyes and teeth that had been fried so much you couldn’t actually pull it apart, let alone enjoy it. The night did improve luckily. Me and Laura pre-drank to chase and status in our kitchen with a bottle of 3 euro rum. That was finished soon enough so we headed down to the Mombari for a boogie and some more rum. I asked for one beer and one ti-punch, got presented with three beers. Told bartender I only wanted 1 beer. 5 mins later, she comes back with 3 ti-punch. No! One of each. Evil glare ensued. We moved onto Chez Ones in the Charbo until around 4 before retiring. (We won’t tell the rental car people about the jokes time we fitted 7 people into a kia picanto :S)

                Saturday was a late started due to slighttt Rum headaches and general laziness. Checked out the Christmas market and the normal market and then bought all the ingredients to have a typical French picnic. Except it was the 8^th December and we picnicked in bikini’s by a creek. We had lots of cheese, baguette, salami... and that seems to about cover the French diet. It was really nice just driving around and seeing some different scenery and places even though we didn’t go that far. Checked out Apatou and stopped by some waterfall things on the way back. However, no one seemed to like my mp3 player choices and kept swapping to the Caribbean reggae Cd we have heard a million times and quite possibly could provide most of the top 10 worst songs ever in the world. I was not impressed. They only made it 4 bars into 1D and skipped earthquake before it could even get going! Saturday night was more chilled, and involved juice and cookies from the hut by the river, pizza takeaway and lots of Gavin and Stacey. Perf.

                Sunday: Bright and early start to make the most of the car which had to be back by 3 to the garage. Drove to Mana and then onto Awala-Yalimapo (bit of a mouthful) for some beach time! We did manage to pick the first consistently cloudy day we have had since we got here to go, but in somes it was nice. Almost like an authentic English beach experience, except I could still swim in the sea in December without dying of hypothermia. We saw where the ocean meets the Maroni river and lots of people  kite-surfing and even snuck in a nap. On the way back to St. Laurent we stopped in Javouhey. This is a Hmong village so the people are (their ancestors probably) were refugees from Laos who were brought here by the French government to do agriculture and provide fruit and veg. The climate here is also quite similar to laos. There was a craft market and I bought yet another traveller style purse with a long strap – you can never have enough! And we then went to one of the many food stalls for some delicious spring rolls and other South-East Asian delights. Not sure pineapple cake is one of these delights, but, I bought that anyway! It was such a nice Sunday morning thing to do, and obviously popular with the metropols as the place was crawling with them. The afternoon was a blur of more napping, dropping of the car and sorting out petrol money, but we were back on track by the evening.

               For weeks now I have been attempting to hit-up the local “chorale”, but I’m either not in St. Laurent until late Sunday night, or tired, or some other reason. But this week I was determined as one of the teachers I work with had specifically invited me. After a fair bit of biking slowly looking shady, I found the place and was like, erm, please can I come sing ? Everyone was really welcoming and I’m definitely going to try and go every week I’m in St. Laurent. The level is slightly... school standard, but, it’s just nice to be singing and if nothing else it is really good sight-singing and French-language singing practice. Afterwards, me and Laura went to the Goelette (bar on a boat, jazz music), for a cheeky despé (desparados) to finish of the weekend and chill out. And Voila another week down, and only 17 days until I fly to Miami to meet a certain Mr. James Sanderson. More than psyched to hear some good music and be in a proper club and chill by a pool and the beach!

All that stands between me and the holidays are a further 100 christmas cards and 250 snowflakes. On y va!

Crisis in the Caribe

not going to lie, it’s not been an ideal week her in La Guyane Francaise. Character building, challenging and a patience-practicing are words that spring to mind. So the bike broke, my foot was looking rather manky, and then, after posting the last blog, I returned chez moi to discover that our fridge and freezer had been robbed. This is NOT IDEAL in a tropical country, where things like ice cubes and cold water are a necessary part of daily life. Oh and you know, non-mouldy food. The delightful man who stole said appliance, does not seem to understand a common concept that, when you move out of a house, you change the name on the bills. As such, he has been paying the electricity bill for our house for the past year, without living there. Funnily enough, many people have come and gone over the year, and some have neglected to pay the man for a bill we know nothing about as it in his name. Long story short- no one has paid him, he robbed fridge. My housemate tried to explain that this is not how reasonable people deal with this situation- but sadly to no avail. She also asked which day he would be going to change the name on the bill (so we could go together and arrange a straight swap)... he was very aloof. Turns out, this was so he could wait, and cut off the electricity on a Friday, when he knew we would be stuck the whole weekend waiting for the office to open without electricity. What a douche. His name is Teddy. What a douchy name. Not going to lie, Friday morning was a low point. Housemate had decided she would be leaving me alone in the Maroni while she went back to Suriname to hang out with some guy. This was not so bad, and after a slight panic, I decided that I would catch up on some writing, join the library, go swimming, nothing groundbreaking but still. After returning from the library (unsuccessfully- seems like you need an FBI background check, 15 signatures of recommendation, fingerprints and eye scan, and muchas photocopies before they will consider letting you be a member of the one room library, discovering the electricity had been turned off was not what I wanted to here.

After a frantic search for a taxi to Cayenne for asap, using FAR too much of my phone credit, it’s like 1 euro a minute or something tres ridiculoso, I found one willing to pick me up chez moi at 2pm. This gave me an hour to pull myself together and throw some stuff in a bag. No time for lunch, doesn’t matter anyway because lunch is difficult on the equator without a fridge. Anyway, I was on my way, I have never been so happy to see the cemetery which signals you are leaving St. Laurent. Thankfully, Laure and Sam, living in the really nice apartment with beaucoup de space, agreed to let me stay for the weekend. The Friday night was chilled, bit of sangria, Chinese takeaway and a sleep in an actually comfy bed with a FAN! Did I mention ours broke last week? Not quite sure what happened Saturday, but after a little cheeky bit of shopping and a baguette, the drinking started and soon we were on the beach drinking wine out of the bottle wearing shorts and flip-flops. That is definitely the first time I have been able to say that about the 1st December! At some point there was a Mcflurry drive-through, more takeaway food, more wine, back to the beach for a casual night-time rocket launch, and then on to a club to dance away the stresses of the week.  Bear in mind, that throughout all these activities we were going around with 4 of us in a 2-seater car, me and laure hid under a blanket in the boot bit in case anyone came for a look.

It’s so strange here how the nightlife can vary so much from Cayenne to St. Laurent, given that it is only a three hour drive. Well, I suppose its not that strange. Cayenne is on the eastern side of Guyane, closer to Brazil, and thus populated heavily with Brazilians who want Brazilian music. St. Laurent on the other hand, is much more African in terms of population and therefore we get the reggae and the Caribbean beats as opposed to the latin stuff. I think, I prefer the Caribbean stuff, but after a couple of hours, both styles leave you begging for some Rihanna. Honestly, even Gangham style will do which is the only worldwide song that they seem to like over here. Got in around half 4, and slept well again in a comfy bed, and Sunday was a bit of a write off. To be fair, you don’t even feel like you should be doing something because there is nothing to do on a Sunday. Buying bread and milk, good luck!

Got back to St. Laurent late Sunday night, to find the electricity ON --- I have heard rumours of illegal cutting of wires, etc... don’t wanna get involved.  Monday was another great day. Spent  5 hours at the hospital waiting to get my foot seen as the stuff that the other doctor gave me didn’t seem to have much effect. That was fun. But besides all this, I have decided today (although it will probably change tomorrow) that one must be positive and try to love life, even when life is a little bit boring and hot a gives you mushrooms on your feet (first it was fleas and now fungus is the diagnoisis. Not sure which is worse. Plus, we are learning the local language, Nenge Tongo, and had our first class today. It was the first time I have had to actually use my brain in far too long, it actually hurt. But apparently after 10 hours of intensive courses we will be able to understand all the people in the street and will be able to talk back! Ha! We shall see. Apparently it is 45% based on English so maybe we have a little head start whoop whoop. As for the rest of the week- its not looking too busy. At the weekend we are hoping to rent a car and go for a look around the surrounding area but who knows. I feel like Christmas is just going to come and go this year without me even noticing it. At this rate I won’t even have any English telly left to keep me going as I have watched most of it :S

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

Lads are back on tour

I have officially now been in French Guiana for a full month. And in that month I have worked around 15 hours. But, I have also visited two islands, slept in two different hammocks, visited 3 different rivers, and had my passport checked on the road from Cayenne to St. Laurent approximately 6 times. Every single time they ask me if I have dyed my hair... when I explain that it’s just the sun they look at me all suspect like I must be some kind of English drug mule, and not in fact a primary school English teacher, who, to be honest isn’t at all qualified to teach English. Maybe that’s reason enough for them to question why I am here.

Why am I here? That is a question I find myself asking more often than I should. Obviously l am here because I chose to be here, but in general, I am assistant-ing because Bristol University told me to go away for a year, take a good long look at myself in the mirror and come back knowing more French than I did before. In terms of the job itself, aside from an English accent, I feel I am offering very little to the children here that they could not get from their normal teacher. It’s hard to explain much of the culture side of England, when they cannot even point to Europe, let alone England on a map. Probably because they have never needed to, and probably will never need to know. Looking down the class list, all but one where born in St. Laurent du Maroni, and their idea of a foreign land is Cayenne, a 3-hour trip down the main highway. When you explain England is another continent entirely to French Guiana, the response is usually- oh, so it’s in Métropol (mainland France)? In their minds, the capital of Brazil is Oyapock- the border town- or if they are feeling very adventurous, Belem, one of the larger cities in Northern Brazil. I was discussing travel with a friend of one of my flatmates. I explained how I work really hard for a short period and then travel. His response was: I don’t really have any desire to travel, I prefer to just live my life and spend my money on that. This took a lot to get my head round. We had another bizarre moment in class last week when the teacher was trying to explain the concept of a border. Somehow, the concept of racism came up, which, was explained, by one of the only white children in the class as when “the white people hate the blacks”. The teacher chose not to explain properly. Great.

Generally the teaching is going okay, although the lack of access to a photocopier, printer or even internet means teaching materials are few and far between and generally the class is limited to me writing on the whiteboard or singing a song. This week I’m planning to do a class on Halloween if I can get my act together and sort something out for it. This morning, however, was the hardest class I have taught by far.  I showed up at a new school for my first day, offered (basically begged to have a day of observation)... “No, no, no, don’t worry you go ahead and start”. Brill. The teacher then, introduced me to her class of 8 year olds, explained, this is your new English teacher Polly.... go! Before walking out of the class and leaving. She seemed annoyed after the class when I told her, that it was generally okay except that no one listened to me, everyone was shouting, and when I asked a boy to sit down, some of the girls recommended that I needed to hit him with a ruler. NOT MY JOB! They asked me if I was a teacher in England... NO! But.... do you have a curriculum to follow for this year..... NO! Sort it out dudes otherwise it looks like I’m going to be having a bad case of Mondays blues for the rest of the year.

It didn’t help that I was incredibly tired and sore-throaty when I woke up at the ugly hour of 6:30am to get ready this morning (ok, so admittedly, I snoozed for another hour, yet another lesson plan NOT done...). The reason for this? The epic weekend we have just spent in Kourou. I was worried that I was losing a bit of Polly J loveforlife due to the limitations of speaking in French and generally not having much to do, but that was forgotten this weekend. It didn’t start ideally however, as we decided to experiment with some public transport in Guiana. I now see why people are willing to drive their friends four hours to the airport and back, or why Yoga is cancelled tonight because the teacher has to drive one of the other teachers half way across the country.

I finished work at half 12, headed back showered and by 2 we were ready to go. We had been informed that not only was there a bus at half past 2, if not there was a taxi at 3. Perf. We got to the station at 2, not wanting to miss anything. Not only were we the only people there, there was also a severe lack of vehicles, i.e none. 2:30 came and went, as did 3, and even the homeless guy in the corner walked off. We were about to admit defeat when a white mini-van drove on a nearby road. We stood up to hint that we wanted to get on, and he came over. Im leaving at 6 he explained. No, there is nothing before. Right, back home for a nap, before trying again at 6. To be fair, he rocked up at 10 past, not bad for Guyanese time. On the way there, I received a slightly worrying text from Olivia, errrr, so, we have nowhere to sleep tonight. Slightly awkward. Luckily we managed to sweet-talk the lovely German (a Spanish assistant we had met in training) into letting 4 random English girls quadruggle in his bed and kick him out onto the sofa. Mega thanks needed. We arrived around 9 to Kourou and he took us out, first to show us the best burger van in town (yep, he was right about that one), and then to hit the town. We tried a couple of bars, found some 3 euro caiprinhas. Lucy (remember her from training? The crazy one...) asked the barman if she could pay on a card because she had no cash. He said no, but as you girls are so Jolie (pretty) you can have two rum punch for free... banter.

We requested Gangham style (our theme tune) and, as always, it was played straight away. We went outside for a quick bit of air, while it was still playing, and a random guy got out of a car (whilst he was driving it :p) ran over, and joined the dance. JOKES! Even more jokes, turns out he is a rocket scientist here to launch a casual satellite. More on that later. We cut Friday night short at 2 am as we had a boat to the Iles de salut, the one place in Guyane with clear blue water, at 7.15 the next morning. 

Shades on, pain au chocolat in hand, we boarded the boat. Cheeky catermaran (no idea how to spell that). Lovely chilled boat ride chatting to the girls, having banter with yet more rocket scientists. I should probably explain that French Guiana is the location of the European Space Agency, and this is likely one of the only reasons that France continues to pay for it, hence all the crazy scientists. Upon arrival, the chilled out boat man was like, give me your stuff and swim to the island. Er, yes please! I have been waiting a month for clear water. It was like something out of Pirates of the Caribbean. With rocks, palm trees and falling coconuts awaiting us when we had swam to shore. I don’t need to go on, but it was an awesome day, although checking out the old prison cells, particularly the solitary confinement ones was WELL eerie. Anyone read/seen papillon? Nah, me neither.  But apparently all that stuff went down here on these islands. I did get an awkward bit of dehydration going on (anyone who knows Polly J well, knows that this is serious times) but luckily Lucy was manning up and carrying the picnic box to save my pathetic self from having to do it. The dehydration made the free rum punch on the boat even more delicious.  Feeling very sun-kissed (read: crème bruleed), we headed back to the port, and back to Germans for a shower and a nap.

Couldn’t nap too long though as it was dinner party time with some of the Brazilian assistants- nice! Being classic Brits abroad, we, well, Lucy and Olivia (I was sleeping) rocked up with two bottles of cheap rosé, 6 cans of extra strong beer, 8%, diet coke and paté (admittedly more French than brit abroad) to add to the party. It was such a nice night, chatting to all the other assistants –all in French as this is the only common language. And then, when sufficiently loving life, we clambered all 8 of us into a 2-door Renault Clio. Obvs me and Lucy chose to sit in the boot, not quite sure why, but ducking down to hide from the gendarmes is quite a challenge when your knees are already tangled in your shoulders. We rocked up to the same bar as the night before. Ok, there may be nightlife here, but a different bar each night is just too much to expect!  What should be playing as we walked in but.... Saturday night... school disco classic. We cleared the dance floor and did the routine for everyone in the club. They loved it. The bar lady was not loving Lucy so much when she tried to buy a desparados, explaining, ok I have two cards, and they probs both don’t work but can we try??? Big smile. Sure enough “the transaction cannot be authorised” so... bank of Polly had to be called upon. Pretty jokes, as I had tried to take out 20 euro that morning and the atm had said insufficient funds. Awkward. Between the three of us anglais, we left Kourou on Sunday with about 40 cents to our name. 

The night continued, and at some point, everyone else went home and me, Lucy, and Olivia ended up in another bar/ pizza place with the rocket scientists. We were, no exaggeration, the only white people there. The Dj had never even heard of Jay-z, that is how gangster he is! We ignored the funny looks and decided the only way they would accept us would be for Lucy to do the worm in the middle of the floor wearing a short white dress and granny panties. Even this had no reaction. She then chose a victim and was all, I want to learn to dance like you. After the women replied, quoi? Lucy grabbed Olivia, pushed her head down and started grinding like everyone else in the club. Luckily the fire alarm went off soon after to save us humiliating/ risking our lives even more. There was only one thing left to do that night, so we drove to the burger van, to find it was out of burgers. Awkward. We then headed back to the hotel of the rocket scientists for a midnight (more like breakfast) feast. This consisted of goats cheese, baguette, chocolate covered almonds, and a very poor attempt at popcorn. How tres cosmopolitan. Turns out rocket science must pay slightly better than language assisting as the company pays for them each to have a suite and a rental car.

The conversation over the picnic went something like this : So... rocket science, is it actually hard? Because really you guys seem like a bit of a joke... Reply: Erm, yeh, actually it is quite hard and we are actually quite intelligent.... Oh... awkward pause... (me and lucy): yeh, but, have you ever had to play simon says in English with a bunch of 8-year old Guyanese kids, because that is actually quite hard. Rocket Scientists: No, to be fair, Im sure that is harder. Back to Germans for another quadruggle. Hungover morning with some delish chocolate and banana crepes – cheers German!- and then the awkward moment when Lucy was like, German, where did you put my camera last night? Er, Lucy, you had your camera. SHITTTTTTT. By some crazzzzzzy stroke of luck, Olivia had saved the number of one of the rocket scientists on Friday night. We rang him and were like... heyyy... do you possibly have the number of your Taiwanese friend??? 20 mins later, the camera had been found in the car of the rocket scientists. What an absolute ridiculous stroke of luck. We went for ice-cream to celebrate and then to the beach before everyone pretty much crashed in the afternoon. Me and Katie got a lift back to St. Laurent and I have basically been sleeping ever since. The room needs a clean, I need a shower, rent is due, and I still don’t have a French bank card, and basically I am falling apart. Just have to make it to Friday and it is time for Trinidad and Tobago. Oh, and the casual holiday I just booked to Miami for new year. Top Bants.

Adios amigos POLLY xxx

Eternally grateful to the inventer of Simon Says

Yet another sweaty Monday in St. Laurent and even with the ventilator (fan) on max, 6 showers a day is the approximate amount needed to not show up everywhere looking like you’ve just attempted to run a triathlon in the desert, without any water. I don’t know how people manage to show up for lunch, or work looking refreshed and unbothered by the heat, IN JEANS. Might be something to do with leaving their air-conditioned house to get into their air-conditioned car to their air-conditioned place of work? I currently have air conditioning in none of the above. The situation isn’t helped by the fact that the heat is almost as intense at 8 in the morning as it is at 1 in the afternoon, the two times when I have to bike to and from my schools- which are not conveniently located in the town centre. This would have been a nice thing for my mentor teacher to organise, since she had a choice of over 17 schools to put me in, and chose potentially the two furthest away. In the words of the lady in charge of the other half on my timetabling... well, I don’t know why she has done that??? Yeh, me neither.

                Anyway, in the grand scheme of things, I have now racked up a grand total of 3 hours of teaching in the schools- definitely earning my salary for the month of October :S On Thursday, I showed up at the farthest away school to be greeted by the head teacher who said “Oh, I heard you weren’t supposed to be coming anymore, Oh well, this is good news.” #LovinOrganisationGuyaneStyle2k12.  I Sat with a group of about 8 kids, primarily Amerindians who were excited to be learning English but, unfortunately, too shy to actually speak to me. This makes teaching predominantly oral language skills a little bit difficult.  They knew what they were supposed to do, as when I moved onto the next person, they would whisper the correct answer in their ear, but saying it to my face was apparently too much of a challenge. One boy just turned his chair around and faced away from me every time I spoke to him. Perfect. I was saved towards the end of the lesson with a game of Simon says and a rendition of Heads, Shoulders, Knees and Toes. When in doubt, I’m just going to whip out one or both of these activities probably every week for the whole year as they seem to go down well.

                On the Friday, I did my first two classes at another one of the schools. I walked in, hoping the teachers would maybe suggest working with a small group or something like that. Turns out, the only thing she had written for a lesson plan for the hour was... first lesson with Polly. This involved her saying, ok, go... and then I had to entertain the whole class for an hour. After we had mastered, my name is...  nice to meet you (shake hands) after an exhausting half an hour... I gave up and was like, who wants to play a game of Simon Says?? Thankfully everyone agreed. This process was then repeated for a second hour with the second class of the day. It’s not the children’s fault they are hard to entertain for an hour, I just really feel like my one hour of training in a meeting room qualifies me to be principal English teachers to half of the schools children. On the plus side, all the kids were really nice, and had apparently been waiting for me to return the whole week. There were a few weird questions however. One girl asked me how come I am white and speak English? I’m presuming that this is because the only first-hand experience they have with English-speakers would be the odd friend from British Guyana. Also, all the white people they know are French. Another girl asked me if my parents were generally nice to me when I was at home. I said yes, but decided to move swiftly one as I feel this conversation could have taken a turn for the worst. The funniest bit was that NONE of them could comprehend that England is actually cold-ish most of the time. EVEN at lunchtime???? they asked . YES. Even at lunchtime it is cold I explained. Minds= Blown. 

                We have just spent a really nice weekend back in Cayenne, the capital. We left Friday night, around 6 with a couple of new friends who we had spent the previous weekend with and dinner one night. We stopped about an hour outside of Cayenne to buy a car at 9 O’clock at night, as you do, and we then stopped in Kourou to have dinner, in a nice Dominican restaurant, our first restaurant in French Guiana. Don’t get me wrong, the food was really good and the portions were huge, but 15 Euros is the average for a main course in any restaurant here ranging from shack, to nicer shack to actual restaurant. This does not sit-well with my English, only eat in a restaurant when I have a voucher, and share the meal, and drink tap water mentality. We finally arrived into Cayenne at around half 11 (around 3 and a half hours later than the time we had told the friends we were staying with). Luckily they were around and we got hold of them and meet up at the Place des Palmistes, which is the main square in Cayenne. Everyone seemed tired so we headed back to the apartment of two of the assistants. It was like entering a new world. Huge, spacious, clean white apartment with a sofa bed, which is by far comfier than our actual bed. Air conditioned bedrooms and a balcony. I suppose that’s what you get when you pay 1300Euro a month (for two people!!) Accommodation prices in Cayenne are ridiculous! We pay approximately a sixth of this for our humble abode.

                It was really nice to see the other assistants again after a couple of weeks apart, and when one of the host teachers, was like, Im going to bar, who wants to get in the van and come with, I jumped at the chance. After 4 hours in the car, I was tired, but when there is a potential opportunity for some night life in Guyane, you take it. We squeezed six of us and headed to the vaguely dangerous market area to a Brazilian bar. You know you are in a classy establishment when the Caiprinhas are served from a petrol container. No wonder I had a headache the next morning. We hastily left this bar when it turned out that a dispute that started inside, was taken outside, and resulted in one man being stabbed 10 times. Rumours circulated that he may be dead, but we are not sure. I just saw the ambulance pull up before we headed to another bar about 3 doors down. They tried to charge us 5 euro each, but somehow we got away with it by saying that we are in the Capoiera club. Good job we didn’t pay as there were about 5 people in when we got there. Oh yeah, and 4 of these were the DJs. There were also about 6 guys in the world’s lamest VIP area, basically a raised area of the room looking down on the 8 or so of us dancing away to some fairly appalling mixtures of music. They did play Danza Kuduro about 4 times though. Props.  

                The next morning, with a lovely Caiprinha headache, we checked out the market, grabbed some food and then we were off with the people who had brought us to Roura, a village about half an hour outside Cayenne. We spent the afternoon doing a trip down a creek in a pirougue, and discovered that Palm trees are not technically trees and that their trunks cannot technically be called trunks. Er, you what? After an evening bbq on an open fire, we settled down in the hammocks for a delightful (read: full of mosquitos, dripping water, and generally a little bit unpleasant) night. Up early the next morning for another boat ride, this time to Ilet de la Mère, just off the coast of Cayenne. We picked up Olivia (Scottish assistant) on the way. She was clearly desparate for some UK banter, after two weeks living with her host family with pool, Jacuzzi and jet-ski included. Hard life, eh! The main reason we were heading to this island was for the monkeys, and they didn’t disappoint. As soon as we stepped off the boat, we were surrounded and they were jumping all over the place, especially if you had any food lurking upon your person. We walked a tour of the island and then settled onto the beach for an hour or so, which would have been nicer, had the water not been a mud bath instead of fresh water. Olivia and Katy had cute monkeys crawl up their arms and sit on their head- I had one do a poo on my bag. Such is life. On the boat ride back, the boat driver presented us with Lime, Sugar-cane Syrup, and Rum, all the ingredients of the Guyanese speciality, Ti-punch. The syrup and the rum don’t mix, so your first sip is pure rum and your last is pure sugar. An interesting experience. But I figure, if I drink it often enough I can probably do it withoxut squinting and violently shaking my head. After lunch and ice-cream at the hut we had slept in, it was 4 in the afternoon and we headed back on the long, boring road to St. Laurent. Everyone says it’s approximately 2.5-3 hours drive. It’s more like 4, but if anything it feels longer as it is just one straight road from Cayenne to St. Laurent which starts at 0km and ends at 299km. You also get questioned at the police checkpoint about half way there, where you must explain what you are doing on the road, show your passport, and generally go along with whatever power trip the gendarmes are on that day.

                And here I am, back in St. Laurent for another week of work- so far I have 5 scheduled hours between Wednesday and Friday. Next weekend we are planning on visiting les iles du Salut, apparently the only place in French Guiana with clear blue sea water. Yes! This is on the condition that we can find somewhere to stay, someone to drive us there and a boat to take us to the islands. Will let you know how that one goes!

Polly x 

Getting to Grips with Guyane

Having been in St. Laurent for around 10 days now, it’s safe to say it’s been an interesting, if not very eventful time. I’ve never thought of myself as a particularly hormonal person, but this week has been really testing.  Coming to a foreign country to live and work is SO different to travelling and adjusting has sometimes been difficult. Don’t get me wrong I’ve still fitted in some loving life- for instance, when we finally bought a bed to save having to live on the foam mattress on the floor, the time I discovered diet Orangina at the shop, or, the moment when the bank machine DIDN’T eat my card. However, compared to normal Polly there have definitely been more instances of moody/sad times, such as, when ALL I wanted to do was swim, but when we got there the pool had changed the schedule and was closed, or when the bank machine DID eat my card, or when I woke up in the middle of the forest in a hammock at 3 o’clock Sunday morning and thought, Where am I and WTF am I doing here?? However, after the first week, things are starting to even out a bit, the room is now looking more like a room than a homeless shelter, I’m buying a bike today, and we have even found some friends to go to dinner with tonight!

                Most of the first week was spent mostly running errands, learning to work around the RIDICULOUS opening hours here, oh and three hours of work on Friday (it's sometimes hard to remember I’m here doing a job as I haven’t actually started yet), So, it was nice to get away for the weekend... On one Katy’s (my roomy) schools was organising a sort of getaway for the weekend into the forest, and they were lacking in numbers so she signed up, and I tagged along J We didn’t go too far, but it was just nice to get out of the dirty city. We spent the weekend chilling in an open cabin thing by a creek that you could swim in, with kayaks for mini-adventures. We technically didn’t see any monkeys butttt we definitely heard something big moving in the trees. The night involved beer, rum, and a giant vat of spaghetti as altogether there were about 12 of us- including one of the teachers 2-year-old son which added to the fun. I think we made some new friends—the whole French thing seems like it’s going to be an issue though as everyone wants to practice their English :S I’m hoping to absorb it all and wake up fluent one day.  For the night, I slept in a hammock which I luckily found on the shelf outside our room with leftover stuff from past housemates. It didn’t even fall down in the middle of the night, despite my less-than-amazing hanging skills. Sunday was much the same. It’s a hard life when your biggest decision is deciding the exact point when you can’t nap any longer because you are too hot, and you need to jump into the river.  We have been invited to a similar weekend this weekend in Cayenne, the capital, to visit an island and do some walks with some of the same people. So, up till now, it looks like our plan to get out St. Laurent every weekend is going well.  

On Sunday evening one of the teachers drove us to the ONLY happening (and Open) bar on a Sunday, which was actually really cool. It’s a definite hang-out for those from the métropol as opposed to locals. It was a boat on the river which had been extended into a bar and holds open mic sort of stuff every Sunday. My goal is to sing there by the end of the year. My only concern with the night, well, with Guyane in general, is that, although everyone at the bar seemed to be drinking and loving life, as there is no public transport AT ALL, this means all of these people are driving home, which is not really too banterous.

Last Friday I got my first taste of what my job is actually going to be like. I visited three of my schools (god knows how many I’m going to have in total, I reckon it’s probably going to be like 2 hours in 6 different schools, not cool!) The first school was in the town centre, whereas the other two are in Amerindian villages, a rather long trek outside of the city. Having said that, ALL the kids seemed really nice, and generally enthusiastic about learning English, or maybe it was just the thought of having someone different teach them for an hour a week. Most of the teachers also seemed nice, although one of them seemed to have the technique of, keep shouting at them until they start crying, which was rather awkward. There was also another teacher who had his students separated according to how ‘weak’ or ‘strong’ they were, I believe he described the ‘worst’ table as useless. Apparently they need attention every 2 minutes, never do any work and are really disruptive. And all this he described right in front of them.

I think one of the most interesting things about the schools is going to be the amount of languages going on. In the centre of town, the vast majority of students speak taki taki at home which is a Creole, largely based on English, which I’m hoping will help. Whereas, in the other schools in the villages, at home the kids speak local tribal languages and the younger ones just starting school don’t speak any French at all. As well as this, there are also a fair amount of kids who have moved from Brazil, Suriname, and Guyana, which adds even more languages to the list. I’m not quite sure how the same curriculum that applies in actual France, can work just as well here, but that seems to be what happens. The facilities are generally quite bad. In one of my schools for example, there was one computer, no internet, and some of the classrooms had no electricity. The teachers are also limited to two photocopies per child per week! Looks like I’m going to be writing on the board a lot.

To be honest I don’t think I’m any closer to discovering how Guyane works or how it came to be as it is. We met a hippy doctor at a bar who had spent months WALKING across the middle-east (random), and he said he has been here for 5 years and still doesn’t really GET how all the different cultures function together. He also told us that it’s the simple things in life that make him happy, like, a nice leaf on a tree, or a breeze just as you are getting too hot. When he’s not too busy admiring the moments in life, he is apparently at the hospital trying to cure Leprosy. (I thought that was just a thing in the bible but appaza not- oops!) One thing I have worked out after just a week is that there is little integration between the locals and the ‘Europeans’. Every ethnic group has their own areas of the town to live, certain bars that they can go to and even parks where the children can hang out. One of the first questions everyone asks us when they find out the road we live is, so, you live with.... (Hushed tones)... locals? Er, yeh. It just seems incredible that there are many people suffering with things like leprosy and HIV here, living in tiny shacks with MANY children, when, just down the street, attending the same schools, a ‘FRENCH’ family will be doing their shopping at the air-conditioned supermarket, kite-surfing and kayaking at the weekend and biking on their nice bikes to the weekly yoga class (which was almost completely white). They might go to the ‘black’ village to a bar on a Friday, just to add a bit of excitement to the week, but that’s about it. Obviously this is a bit of a generalisation, and I’m sure there are exceptions, but this seems to be the case for the majority.  

Anyway, that is enough of my musings for one blog, I’m sure you can look forward to many more. The big question is, what on earth are we going to take to this dinner party tonight so that the people will want to be friends with us :S As for work this week, well, I went to a meeting this morning, but the women I was supposed to see had kindly forgotten and was in another town- so, we are no further forward on when I will be starting. At this rate they’ll be paying me around 100 Euros an hour for the work I’ve done this month! Oh well, shit happens!