Life has been changing fairly swiftly over the past days: thankfully we
are no longer living at the pool- the pool that we weren’t allowed to swim
in... the women kept parler-ing about
the chemicals in the water... dubious! To celebrate the end of our time at the
Pacoussine, we bought a bottle of 4 euro rum and started getting on it. The
initial plan was a night out in Cayenne, however, once it transpired that, No,
there really AREN’T any taxis, the hitch-hiking option seemed a bit less
appealing. Especially when, I doubt that many people would want to pick up a
bunch of random foreigners wandering around the capital, heading for a random
suburb at 4 in the morning. So Pacoussine Party it was. Ring of fire was
involved, yet again, although sadly the VIKING has not yet made it to the
states so the rules were obviously not quite as banterous. Somehow we managed
to entertain ourselves until around 2, this did involve a cheeky Maroon 5 concert
from one of the Brazilians (who knew they were big out there?), Sadly he didn’t
know Payphone, une grande dommage -oui-jpridz? At 2, and it had to be 2 for
some unknown reason, Lucy decided to plonge dans la piscine. Sans clothes. Ok,
just underwear. There are some lovely photos flotting around somewhere :S Oh
well, why fight it when you can be classic brits abroad? Even if we are, it
seems, the ONLY Brits in this country at this time- tourism doesn’t seem to
have quite reached these parts.
The next morning, Sunday, the gods of the swimming pool had decided that
there would be no electricity and thus internet for us pauvre assistants. This
meant we actually had to talk to each other... awkward! Obvs just kidding,
everyone was pretty friendly although for some (ok, maybe more than some) Im
kind of wandering if they knew what they were letting themselves in for in
Guyane, or why they wanted to come here at all. As we keep being reminded, Oui
c’est la france, but we are actually in South America – although it doesn’t
ressemble any part of it I’ve ever seen....
Sunday was also moving out day, much though I loved living in the back
room of a swimming pool and freezing at night due to some people being rather
KEEN with the aircondicionado. We were all moving on, some with more appetizing
prospects than others. Olivia, for example, is moving in with a family, and
living there for free, with an ensuite, swimming pool and even a jetski thrown
in for jokes!- on the condition that she teaches their daughter English. Sounds
like a pretty good deal to me... Lucy, on the other hand, is also living for
free although this seems to be some kind of back alley Couchsurfing deal, where
she may have to disappear for the weekend when the real owner of the room comes
back to hangout. I’m sure she’ll make friends in no time, her town is so small,
apparently she’ll know everyone before she even gets there... practically.
Me, on the other hand, trekked alllll the way across this crazy country-
or whatever you call it, which, by the way, is one straight road all the way
(there’s not much inbetween), to my home for the year, St. Laurent Du Maroni.
First impressions, were, not going to lie, not great. If one has a penchant for
decrepit and deserted colonial shacks and the odd alcoholic wandering the
streets, you would love it here. Basically it seems to be a bit of a mixture
between nice suburbs populated by all the metropolites (people who come from
France mainland), with serious looking gates and swimming pools for the
residents anddddd.... the odd ghetto/ less nice suburb populated by the
natives, or those coming from the islands or suriname. To make life a little
bit more jokes, the language on the street is generally a creole called taki
taki, tres ideale for my language development this year.
Me and Katy- the American assistant, also lovinglife2k12 here in St
Laurent, have decided to live in the centre-ville, but this is all good,
because we are one block away from all the prostitutes and at least a 2 minute
walk away from the village chinois which seems to be a bit of a no-go-zone.
When I say we decided to live here... basically I mean, I was staying at a
teachers house Sunday/Monday night, in one of the nicer suburbs, when I got a
phone call from Katy saying, I met a guy, he is moving out tomorrow, we can
move in, pretend only one of us is living there and only pay 250 euro between
us a month. Sounds perf. 250 is an
absolute bargain here when people easily opay upwards of 500 a month for a
studio- ridicule, je sais! And... mostly it is perf... it just needs a bit of
decorating. The bed is currently a mattress on the floor with some wooden
palettes underneath, but we are working on that. Today we acquired a table and
two chairs to create the dining corner of our room, AND, piece de resistance,
the iron bars on the windows are perfect to hang a hammock between. Theres a
vaguely equipped kitchen as well- win!
Our new housemates did sort of look at us like... who are these crazy
white girls moving into this place with just backpacks and a beach towel, BUT
generally everyone keeps to themselves and we have had pas de problemes in our
first two days. Also, either camouflage is back in fashion or, the guys work
for the army. Nous ne sommes pas sur. Anyway, living with border control must
surely be good for security, n’est pas? On the plus side, if my laptop gets
stolen, I will probably be able to claim more on insurance than it is actually
worth, another win. Lack of internet in this lovely house is a bit of sad times
however. BUT I did find an internet cafe today which is 50cents an hour with a
student card, AND apparently the supermarket has free WiFi, so I may have to
head over there for a croissant and a cheeky skype a couple of times a week...
The other option is to make some kind of deal with the people that live
downstairs where, they give us their password, we pay them some money and
everyone is happy :D Now we just need to find the Chinese lady at the pizza
place to pay the rent too and we are good to go!
I haven’t even been to a school yet, although im not sure I even want
to, given that when I tell people the school Im going to, the responses range
from, good luck, to, you are going to regret this in the raining season, to, by
bike? But you will die! Bueno, we shall have to see. Im beginning to think that
the assistants in some cases are just a bit of a faff for the teachers to
organise. At one of my schools, apparently most students don’t speak French as
a first language, so I highly doubt the effectiveness of an English teacher
there for between 2-4 hours/ week. But apparently this order for each school to
have English tuition has come direct from the métropol, so it must be adhered
to.
We have just about exhausted all the errand running that we need to do
around here, although even that is almost impossible, given that everything is
closed either between 12-2 or 2-4, or on special occasions 12-2 AND 2-4, so
basically the town is like a ghost town unless its 7.30am, basically because
it’s just TOO hot to do anything most of the day. The fruit and veg market
which happens twice a week was nice this morning though! We are all stocked up
until the next one on Saturday! ALSO, due to a lack of having anything to do,
as both my teachers and katys don’t seem in any rush for us to start work, we
have gone in search of activities to keep us entertained. So far, we have come
up with, cinema one night (there is only one screen and thus one film a
week...), swimming one night, capoeira one night- we called some guy named
junior who is going to hook us up, AND, the success of the day, YOGA. We are
going to be well bendy if we go twice a week. You pay 60 euro to be a member for
the year and that includes 4 hours a week... a bargain I say! The location was
really cool as well, in a school, but outside looking out into the forest and
hearing the insects buzzing. Turns out the teacher lived in London for 7 years,
so she can even swap to English if we get stuck, random! But all in all, it
went well, and we even managed to croggy there. I fell the secret to success in
Guyane is going to be keeping busy, keeping hydrated, and keeping the skin
peeling to a minimum. I feel its time now for me to aller to my mattress on the
floor for a good nights sleep. This will be uploaded the next time I visit my
friend at the 50c place, or feel the urge for a pain au chocolat from the
supermarché.
A tout de suite
Polly xxx
Polly xxx
No comments:
Post a Comment