Visa

The plan was to return to the States in early December but another opportunity presented itself. Turns out, it's less expensive to buy a new ticket out of Suriname than to change the date on my existing one, so I watched the date on my return ticket come and go. (I've now officially overstayed the visa-less limit for France).

Today was attempt no.2 at getting a visa to Suriname. As I did last Thursday, I showed up at the consulate at quarter to nine. The shoe-box sized space opens at 9am to the already assembled mob. At five past nine I received a ticket bequeathing me the 36th place in line. This allowed enough time for the slow enjoyment of an omelet and The World According to Garp in a nearby cafe.

Last Thursday at the Consulate I tried for a tourist visa; I did not yet have the ticket to the States that I'd need to get a transit visa. I told the guy across the desk from me that I was planning on dipping into Suriname for a few days before heading back to FG. He asked for flight information, which threw me for a curve; to get from FG to Suriname is a 15 minute ride in a little boat, cash and no receipt. When I pointed this out, he asked for proof of my future departure from FG. Shit. It was around this time that I knew there was going to be a polite battle and that I would lose.

I asked him about the many ways to travel that don't involve tickets, "As it happens, I'm planning on biking back to Brooklyn," I conspired. "Surely there is a way to accommodate such travelers." I practically winked when I said this to let him know that I knew he was too smart to con, and here was a chance for him to be stand-up guy and make the system work for someone. His middling bureaucrat nod said, "I'm sure you're a nice guy, and I'd like to help". His middling bureaucrat smile said, "but I'm not here to help people, I'm here to dot the i's." Getting up, I smiled a smile that I hoped didn't say, "You are largely what's wrong with the world" and then spent the next three hours making my way back to Kourou. It didn't help that I'd left for Cayenne at 4:40 in the morning.

Today I had the good fortune to sit across from a more sensible guy (and had proof of a return ticket). The guy took a cursory glance at my paperwork, curiously charged me 20 euros less than the going rate and sent me on my way.

I headed "across town" and hopped in a taxico bound for Kourou. With a bridge out, the route between Kourou and Cayenne takes a significant detour on a narrow and partially rutted road. The road is narrow enough that vehicles stick as far to the outside of the lanes as possible to avoid each other. The outside set of wheels are often half-off the narrow road so vehicles proceed leaning significantly.

The taxi-co's are privately run vans that leave whenever they are full. The driver of this one was a sinewy, older guy who seemed pretty down to Earth. He headed out of Cayenne at a reasonable pace, talking loudly in a creole that I can't understand, seemingly to no one in particular. I opened up The World Acording to Garp and passed out. A jerk - and the muscles in my neck responding - woke me up. The driver had slammed on the brakes as a vehicle went careened around us. Our driver had just gotten spooked. After that, he came to a near-stop every time a vehicle passed in either direction, and he did it with a jerk. What had been a long drive suddenly became a lot longer. Adding to the duration was a detour from the detour. The driver pulled off on an anonymous road, pulled over and hopped out to collect mangoes. Love it or leave it.