Since I arrived in Suriname I have been interested in seeing the ocean. Unfortunately, no one talks about it and no one has ever said "let's got to the beach" or anything like that. Furthermore, the capital (Paramaribo) is not even built on the coast like a normal port city but a few kilometers inland. Last weekend was answer time because Amie and I went to go see the coast for ourselves. We took a bus route that we knew went to the north end of the city and then we started to walk. I checked on the GPS and it looked like only 3km or so. The paved road soon turned to dirt, then to grass and finally down to a footpath. It was around then that someone warned us not to go further because there was a high risk of snakes and maybe bandits. We were in our sandals and had no machetes or anything to defend ourselves (poor planning) so we decided to forget the ocean for the day. We started to head back when a weird vehicle that was used to transport concrete passed by. The man offered us a ride and informed us that his vehicle was commonly called a 'roughrider'. I'll tell you, sitting on the front was just that. The first picture below is Amie in the roughrider.

So that way was a complete failure as a passage to the ocean. So fast forward to this weekend and we got ready to make another attempt. This weekend we planned better. We got a map and looked for a road that actually went to the coast, we got our Dutch friends Egbert and Sieneke to come with us (who could actually ask for directions), and we rented bikes. This proved to be a success and we reached the coast in an hour or so from home. One look at the ocean answered all the questions and was an eyesore of a beach. Actually there was no beach. The Suriname river reaches the ocean and deposits all the Amazon silt, making a muddy delta only suitable for mudskippers and crabs.

We keep on getting questions about what we're actually doing here. So here it goes!

Everything in this country starts at the relational level; it's all about who you know and who you're related to. Before we can get to any real 'work', our coworkers have to know us, trust us, and understand what we're all about. That means we spend a lot of our time hanging out with people at work which is a completely legitimate way to pass a day at the office. It brings the pace of life, especially office life, to a crawl. It has certainly forced the two of us - brought up and schooled with the Western values of goals, deadlines, efficiency, productivity, time=money, to alter some of our attitudes and understanding about the workplace.

I have been spending time teaching people to use Microsoft Publisher, (note the picture of my Publisher training session) helping out with loose ends at Stichting Mamio Namen Projekt and other Aids Organizations (sometimes just holding babies at some of the orphanages), going through old video tapes at SMNP, trying to figure whether the ancient videocamera actually works or not, and random typing, translating, and grammar stuff that needs to be done. I've also been setting up training sessions with other aids organizations and hoping to get involved with some video production with a youth organization in Parbo.

This city has its share of donated technology, but no one seems to know how to problem solve, troubleshoot or fix even the most basic of problems. Needless to say, Steve has been a busy guy and spends most of his time at Stichting Mamio Namen Projekt fixing computers, hardrives and printers and everything remotely technological. He also spends a lot of time with employees and volunteers showing them how to do things at the computer on their own no matter how young they are. Through the grapevine, Steve's name gets out and he usually spends a bit of time each week fixing so and so's friend's computer too.

Weekly salsa classes (note the pictures) continue to be the greatest way to relieve stress and get into local Surinamese culture. The classes are entirely in Dutch, led by our instructor Brain (no folks, that is not a spelling mistake) and we are definitely among the youngest dancers in the group. We get into partners (usually old Surinamese mean and women), learn a new sequence, then start rotating partners. At some point during the evening I usually end up dancing with "Communist". He's a little Asian man with a knack for barking out orders and overreacting at minor mistakes when he really isn't that great of a dancer himself. It's great exercise and after the hour-long sessions we're all grabbing for our sweat rags to mop our foreheads. It's a lot of fun.

-amie-

To date, the most comical and culturally annoying quality of Suriname is its transportation system. For starters, it's not public. Each Paramaribo bus driver owns their own bus, and decorates it according to their style. We've seen it all - black lighting to tickle passenger fancy when they are riding home at night, faux cow print upholstery, and outrageous paintings inside and out.

Topping it all off, we?re pretty sure all of Parbo's buses were bought in one big business deal with the Chinese. They all have Chinese lettering and the doors have scatterings of Engrish. Taking the bus everyday is an adventure. You see, buses operate on their own timetables. Waiting for the bus every morning is a guessing game on whether or not you'll get to work on time.

Parbo's buses wedge an amazing amount of people into one vehicle. For some reason, no buses have handrails on the roof. Nope, everyone's gotta have a seat. Getting in and out of the bus is an acrobatic obstacle course. There are three fixed columns of seating and one aisle. To top it all off, a row of seats attached to one of the columns, folds into the aisle, effectively blocking the entrance and exit of passengers.

Here's a typical morning: People pile onto the bus onto every double and single seat firmly attached to the bus. Once those are full, people proceed to pull down one of the foldable side chairs and sit in the middle aisle. Then, passengers start ringing for their stops. Usually it's someone in the very back row of the bus who needs to get off first. So everyone in the middle aisle, gets up and squishes themselves into the other rows of people already there, or jumps off the bus altogether, so the (usually wide) man or woman at the back of the bus, with all their bags and personal affects, can get off the bus and pay the driver. This takes at least a couple of minutes, including the time it takes for the remaining passengers to rearrange themselves back into the seats, and let a whole bunch of other people pile onto the bus.

The bus starts off again. A few meters later, the bell rings and the bus has to stop again. For reasons unbeknownst to us, the second person to ring the bell could not possibly have gotten off the bus at the same time as passenger number one and walked a few more steps (thereby saving the whole aforementioned middle-aisle process from happening twice in two minutes). Repeat this process at least10 times. By the end of the bus ride, if you're unfortunate enough to sit in the middle row, you've gotten your daily exercise by getting up and down anywhere from 5-15 times to let all the people on the back of the bus out.

Now that?s just the middle of the route. If you're unfortunate enough to have to catch your bus at the very start of the route, you'll wait approximately 15-20 minutes for the bus to fill before it takes off. Now if you've gotta catch the bus someone at the beginning of the route, it's impossible to get a seat because they filled up downtown.

-amie-

We saw a lot this weekend on our first trip to Suriname's interior. What a wild mix of cultures! We spent two days in a Maroon village on the Surinamese side of the river that separates Suriname from French Guyana. We were hosted by a friend who happens to be a Maroon journalist. Along with her and an American from the Peace Corp, we along with the other 4 Canadians drove two hours east, then two hours south on bumpy, laterite roads, and took a 10 minute boat ride to Langatabiki - a super long island in the middle of nowhere. We swam in the river (polluted by gold mining in the area), bushwacked through thick jungle on the island, got lost, but thanks to Steve's GPS, and a motorboat that went by at precisely the right moment, we found our way back, ate food all weekend, and tried not to get malaria.

Had an eventful ride back, going about 200km/hour on bumpy, potholed roads, busted a tire, fixed it, were dirty with laterite dirt, and the whole works. Got home to Regilio's and of all things, the water reservoir was empty. Awesome. No showers for our stinky selves. We went next door to our bosses house and got rid of the filth in her shower.

-amie

On one of our walks around the island we ran into a film crew from the Netherlands. All we saw was a couple whities screaming and holding flares while the local people watched with great interest. Later we found out the TV series being filmed was called Zipzoo and plays in the Netherlands. The crew had a small plane at their disposal and it took off and landed several times until the perfect shot was had. As the plane took off, a bunch of naked kids enjoyed playing in the engine exhaust that blew up grass from the makeshift island runway.

The top right picture is a few of us who were very excited because we thought we were across the river into French Guiana. Unfortunately, I had misjudged the direction and in fact, we had swam to another island, not the other country. However, all was not lost. We had a good bath, and later in the day we found out French Guiana wasn't that far, just a different direction so we got in a paddle boat and headed there for the evening. Amie had a good time talking in French to the kids in a small village on the other side. Ya, ok, we were there illegally but the locals are doing it so what's the big deal?

-steve

We're adjusting (at local pace) to Suriname. Getting into Dutch lessons with our teacher Sandra who was the first Surinamese person we've met to arrive at anything on time. We're getting used to the neighbourhood dogs on the constant prowl for something to bark at, bats swooping towards insects at night when we walk, the local transit system (inefficient and slow as it is) and the heat.

On the weekend, we took a day trip out to Cola Kreek. Its name completely describes the area. A coke coloured creek you can swim in. The tourism board has developed the area a bit, so there are flush toilets and change rooms and an abundance of Parbo, the fave local beer. They also have the white sand creek bottom all cleaned out and devoid of rocks and reeds and stuff. A nice place to relax for a day. We went with Grace Baptist Church, the little church we talked about and were fed incredibly with Roti, ice water and soda, and my personal favourite - chocolate cake.

The country's been growing on me. Chinese supermarkets on every street that sell everything from penny candies and groceries, to stationary and women's clothing. Unsalted peanut butter. Cooked vegetables all the time. (Our Dutch teacher looked at us like we were crazy when we pulled out sandwhiches with raw spinach. Seriously people never eat raw veggies). Dutch signs that kind of make sense but just kind of don't most of the time. Homes with bamboo polls sporting multicolored flags, showing a Hindu family lives there. Garbage everywhere. Lots of it! People have no shame chucking bottles and plastic bags on to the street, into rivers and the ocean. Most people deal with garbage by incinerating it in their backyards, or street corners, or in public parks.

Suriname's a country of imports. It sells its bauxite, gold, diamonds and tourism, and in return, buys everything from the West. Or from China. It's expensive here. And with oil prices rising, the cost of living keeps inflating, like this huge balloon that makes the basics more and more out of peoples' reach. Still though, Suriname's a country that calls itself poor, and there are indeed people who are, but most people have cellphones and cars. SUVs aren't uncommon either. Most people in Suriname have made at least one trip to Holland.

-amie

They say they're third world. And although there are patches, especially in the interior, I think their benchmark is a little high - too much Western presence. Just because it is not like the US doesn't mean third world.

Work in this "developing" nation isn't the easiest. This society is based heavily on handouts. It is hard to train when locals are more interested in a steady stream of volunteers to do the work (and the accompanying funds for projects). Development here may be like pulling teeth. I'm not sure where it comes from - maybe the years of slavery and colonialism. Anyway, we'll do our best.

-steve-

We are settling in fine into Paramaribo. It ended up that our host family was a bachelor named Regillio. He is pretty laid back and treats us well. We got to his house (top left picture) a couple days ago to be greeted by his 14 dogs - makes for segmented sleeping. The other 4 of the canadian crew got in on the weekend and it is good to have some sense of community so far. We had a Suriname style orientation (top right picture) which was brief and confusing at times but there was fresh passion fruit juice so it was all good.

-steve-

Early morning coffee. Cold water showers. A big, fenced in front verandah that's perfect for reading. Yep, we've found a refuge from the heat at Regillio's house.

We're a fifteen minute bus ride from downtown, a few blocks from an internet cafe, and in the middle of a nice neighbourhood. Couldn't be better! Now we're just trying to wrap our minds around how to cook in Suriname that will come with time I'm sure!

Our first attempt in finding a church proved to be the greatest thing we stumbled upon. Sometime last week we wandered by a tiny Southern Baptist Church with English signs. We hoped against hope, took the 15 minute bus ride, and walked into the church on Sunday fully expecting a Dutch or Taki Taki service.

What a blessing! It is an English speaking church in the middle of Paramaribo's downtown! It may be Southern Baptist, but there's certainly no southern drawl there! Everyone's from Guyana or Trinidad, or Suriname, we were clearly the only whities there.

-amie

The last few days have been kind of hectic but quite the adventure. We were about fed up with Georgetown and Guyana altogether and were planning on leaving. There are hardly any attractions, and the ones that are available are a fortune because they involve flying into the interior. We went to all the travel places and adventure tours places and found nothing that was even close to reasonable. The one thing that would have been nice are these waterfalls called Kaieteur falls. They are said to be more impressive than Angel falls (cause they are wider) in Venezuela and Iguacu falls (cause they are taller) in Argentina. Cheapest flight we found was $150US each for a morning fly in. Kind of pricey for overseas huh? Well the thing they don't tell you is that there are other ways. Except everyone has a piece of information but not the whole story.

So just as we had given up after two days of looking around, we ran into this miner from the interior that told us there was a city near the falls called Madhia. From there he said we could talk to a guy who could take us. So we went for it and jumped on an 8 hour grueling bus ride - the typical overseas one of course: fold out chair that leaves your butt in agony, poor ventilation that makes you nauseous, loudest dance music ever, dusty sweat sticking to your overheated body, and of course the unpaved road through the jungle. But we finally got to Madhia. Of course the contact guy was away in Georgetown.

No problem, everyone else had their own tidbit. So we talk to a friend of a friend of a friend and we are off to catch a boat that doesn't exist and talk to another person that is unavailable and then go to a small aircraft coordiator who doesn't have any useful information. To make a long story short, we were half a dozen planes and ferries away from where we needed to start work and we decided to pack it in and head to Paramaribo. So that's where we're off. The lonely planet said 3 things about Guyana: it is expensive, there are few sites worth visiting and don't undertake any trip without trippling the estimated time. I thought the book was outdated. It wasn't...

-steve

Since we touched down in South America we have been doing a little sightseeing. We don't start work for another 2 weeks and it has been nice to get used to the place first. We aren't actually doing much sight seeing because the weather is extremely hot and humid. Most of our time has been spent near the snow cone vendor guy or the fans of our hostel.

We spent a few days in the Suriname capital Parimaribo and then headed west into Guyana. The ride took all day to go a few hundred kilometers (2 ferries and several busses). I am not sure if it was worth it or not. Georgetown is definitely one of the ugliest capitals I've ever seen. This may be due to the amount of garbage everywhere or maybe the dangerous atmosphere. Or maybe cause I scratched my back with a jack knife last night and cut things up.

Besides all that, we've come to realize there isn't a whole lot to do here in northern South America. Prices are about the same as Canada which makes them the highest in South America (disappointing) - maybe due to their colonial history (the English left Guyana in a fine mess). Everything interesting takes a plane ride into the interior. So we are finding enjoyment taking pictures of funny signs and wandering through markets.

Did meet a guy last night who tried to join the Jonestown people several years ago. The people said the boss (Jim Jones) was away in Georgetown and they needed to ask him. The man we talked to decided to leave - good judgement I presume.

So I'm not sure what we are going to do. We'll probably make our way back to Suriname and see if there is anything interesting along the way. We are looking forward to settling down, getting to work and meeting our host family. There are 4 others from Canada coming next thursday which should make things more lively.

-steve

Well the adventure deepens in Britsh Guyana. It seems everything the colonial powers laid hands on is scathed and scorched and left in a shambles. We thought the trip to Georgetown, Guyana's capital on the atlantic coast would be a short little voyage...two days later we arrived after bumpy bus rides and ferries. It's kind of a hell hole of a city, a lot more poverty than in Suriname, an awful lot less developed. But it's been fun, everything from finding a place to stay where the mattress is intact, (and where beer bottles aren't scattered all over the floor) to finding food in one of the most multicultural destinations in the world; avoiding tripping into the open sewers and trying to look confident and self-assured so we don't get robbed.

We've seen more of Canada in the past 24 hours than we have in the past few weeks. Scotia bank has a new branch in Georgetown (of all place in the world:) and Canadian mining company Cambior shook hands with the Guyanese government a few years ago, mined all of the "El Dorado" gold, and left only 20 per cent of the royalties to the Guyanese. One Creole man we talked to last night shook his head and said the government thought that was a small price to pay for development. Too bad they didn't help cover the sewers and get some of the thousands of homeless off the streets.

Really though, it's not a bad city, though the beauty, we're told, lies in the interior. And they speak English here! Don't ask me how Suriname got stuck with Dutch and Guyana with English when the rest of South America is Spanish. A little random., but we'll take it! We're trying to find a way to get to Jonestown - the place of the infamous Jonestown Massacre - led by psychopath Jim Jones, but the chances are slim with no roads leading to it. Other than that, we're taking it easy. Eating snowcones, avoiding traffic, and sightseeing.

Take care everyone! Let the adventures continue in Canada or out.

-amie

We are off on another adventure! To our surprise, we had our tickets booked through Trinidad and Tobago with a whole day layover. So of course we had to make the most out of this opportunity. So after arriving at 6 AM local time (4 AM sask time) we figured that the only way to actually see anything on the island in the 12 hours we had was to rent a car. That went well and I found myself again driving on the left side of the road. Luckily I was all trained and ready to go after driving in New Zealand.

The first place we drove to was a natural lake of asphalt. Tours were 35 US because the lake is dangerous to walk on. Especially in the hot sun when the lake turns into quicksand. Luckily for us we were there in the morning when the lake was still hard like a highway but just starting to change into glue. And double lucky for us that an "unofficial" guide sought us out. We bargained him down to a more managable fare and we were off! Where the lake was heating up, you could pull up the gooey asphalt which seemed like a good idea at the time but afterwards became a nusaince when we realized only gasoline could take it off. My camera and murse are permenantly stained!

Since we were on an island paradise, we decided to hit the beach for a few hours...But first we had to get there, and that meant Steve had to manoever the car through psychotic traffic that follows a few rules, but mostly abides by one principle. "Whoever gets their big nose in the lane first has the right of way."

But we got there and feasted on shark bake sandwiches (an incredible meal of battered shark on a pastry bun with tons of fixings. Then we body boarded and say a sting ray and got way too much sun.

The best part of Trinidad is the people. It's like a million different cultures all had kids with each other and the result is really beautiful. Black, and not so black, super-curly hair and straight, and a whole lot of men with their pouffy hair put up in a big turban. There are East Indians, Chinese, Africans and everything in between in Trinidad. And we have a feeling Suriname will be similar!