French Guiana:
Oct. 17-22, 2008
“Welcome to the Republic of France, Department of Guyane. Please park over there and present your passports to the Policie Frontiers. Let me see your vehicle papers. Do you have this in French? Why not? Ok, this time it is ok, but next time you come to France you will have all your papers in French, OK? Where are you from? Colombia? Oh Canada….sentence in rapid French… What do you mean you don’t speak French, you are from Canada, no? You should speak French yes! Ok go to that man with your passports.” This was the first conversation we had in French Guiana If it wasn’t for the emerald rain forest, it would have really felt like we were in France proper. Like Suriname, we did not need to import our vehicle or get any kind of permission papers, all we needed to show was valid insurance. French Guiana is home to Ile du Diable, the infamous prison island, Centre Spatial Guyanais, a launch pad and space center, and much more.
After clearing the border formalities we passed on St. Laurent du Maroni, a colonial town with many prison buildings. It was late in the day and we expected the capital, Cayenne to make up for this loss. We sped along the perfect highway, following its perfect signage to Kourou where we slept for the night at a restaurant. First thing in the morning we drove along more perfect roads to Cayenne. We arrived in time to experience the Saturday market. We love a good market; it gets you right in the thick of it with locals doing their thing. Some selling, some buying, some eating and some shouting. We even lunched on some Vietnamese soup. There are sizable minorities of Laotian Hmongs, Vietnamese, Haitians, Brazilians, whites, blacks and Amerindians in this tiny territory. Cayenne basically closes its doors for business between 1 and 4pm. And with only a few places of interest in the tiny city we had a slow afternoon. We found a couchsurfer who offered to host us in Cayenne, but when we called all we got was a man speaking French and neither of us could understand the other. We got back to the van to find a note on the windshield. “I’m from British Columbia, I would like to meet you.” Seconds later we were whisked away into Bart’s apartment. In less than an hour Bart had introduced us to his lovely wife Lia and daughters, quenched our thirst with cashew juice and made arrangements for us to camp at the Bahai Center. Bart also made a ton of phone calls for us, inquiring about the road to the Brazil border and the ferry service.
We spent the rest of the afternoon wandering the streets of Cayenne. There isn’t much to do, but a naked crack-head running through traffic did provide for a little excitement on an otherwise slow day. For the first time in a long time we found good, fresh bread at a store. Dinner was French bread and brie. It might sound simple, but after going so long without decent bread or affordable cheese, it was a rather gourmet meal. The next day we went to a nature reserve, more of a well done zoo than anything. We were able to get up close to many strange and exotic animals. We saw many tropical birds, snakes, peccaries, tapirs, something called a kinkajou, it looks like a cat/monkey mix. We also got close to a harpy eagle, the cock of the rock bird and even jaguars. It was expensive but, didn’t shock as much as our first gas fill up did. Fuel cost about $CAD 2.60 per liter here. I think my heart stopped for a second when I signed the bill.
Monday we drove back to Kourou to visit the space center, museum and toured mission control. The space center in French Guiana is the busiest in the world. Its proximity to the equator means rocket launches here are much more efficient here than anywhere else. We were happy to be included on a free tour of the facility and overall the space center was quite impressive and interesting.
That night we got to Cayenne to make roti from scratch with Krishna, the friendly care taker of the Bahai center. What he didn’t know is we were making roti to bring to Bart’s where a feast and guests awaited Krishna for his surprise birthday party. With roti in hand we arrived at Bart’s and the party began. We had a great time meeting locals from Cayenne, eating the roti and chicken and listening to Bart and friends play guitar classics.
Tuesday we left Cayenne for St. Georges, the border town. On the way we stopped in Cacao, a village of Hmong refugees from Laos. We didn’t find anything to do or see, or any people for that matter. So we go a bite to eat, paca, a large rodent similar to a capybara. The meal was good but, came with a Parisian price tag. On the way to the border we were stopped by French military. They gave a mixed answer to whether the road would be safe from Brazilian bandits. We didn’t get ambushed until we reached St. Georges when we were swarmed by men offering to take us across the river in their boats. There is no bridge here, the river is too wide so all crossings are done by small water taxis or on the privately run barge. We spent the night in Francine’s yard, she is a friend of Bart’s and he had called ahead and arranged for us to camp there.
In the morning we cleared French exit procedures and waited for the barge to arrive. We met a sociable family on their way to Amapa Brazil, about half way to Macapa, where the road ends and the Amazon creates a nearly 700km obstacle to the rest of mainland Brazil. Jose, Artheur and their families offered to convoy with us as far as Amapa, the road can be prone to ambushes. We would need their help on the other side of the river in Oiapoque, where customs, immigration and importation of the vehicle became a tedious process for the first time since Costa Rica.
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