My French Guiana adventure: Day 5

Today, I see Suriname!

I wake up early and head west in my rented Peugeot. It rains on and off the entire way, about four hours. I don't feel comfortable driving fast so everyone is passing me. The national route is one lane in each direction and very well maintained. Cayenne has crappy, nondescript cars. But as I approach the border town of St Laurent du Maroni (population 50,000; it's the second biggest city in French Guiana), I am passed by an SQ7 and a CLS wagon. I later learn that one-third of the cocaine in France is transported by drug mules along this road.

As I pull into town around noon, it is raining hard again. I park my car, run out onto the muddy grass, and take this photo. Across the brown Maroni River (they say some of that dirt in the water is from Peru) is Suriname. I made it. It is incredible. What an achievement.

I immediately run back to my car and drive a half block to the former prison. French Guiana used to be a penal colony and this was the infamous prison where Papillon stayed.

I highly recommend the movie starring Dustin Hoffman and Steve McQueen.

The prison/museum is kinda meh. Only a couple of buildings are open to the public and they're filled with sterile exhibits and contemporary art. Nothing jarring or macabre. Bummer.

Since I am so close to the equator, it gets very dark right after sunset. I want to head back to Cayenne as soon as possible. But I need to eat lunch first. There's a highly rated Chinese joint nearby. As I walk there, I notice a lot more Amerindian faces. I can't miss the restaurant. It's very busy, packed with Chinese, black, Amerindian, white, and mixed customers. I order the combination chow mein and these fried shrimps that I've seen in a lot of French Guianese Chinese restaurant menus. I sit at a communal table across from a middle aged black lady. At the next table, an Amerindian family who just arrived by motorboat from the jungle is enjoying har gow and shumai. The food is decent.

On the way back, I take a potty break on the side of the road. There are only two or three tiny towns between Cayenne and St Laurent du Maroni. I am amazed that there are no potholes, or even puddles, on the road.

When I had my YJ Wrangler in the '90s, before any long trip, I would pat the car on the dashboard and wish for a safe journey. For the first time in over 20 years, I pat the dash of the Peugeot and wish for a safe journey. The rain is really gnarly.

After 600 kilometers of white knuckle driving, I am back in Cayenne. I really scored with my hotel room. 

I fall asleep on the couch and am awakened by drums. It sounds like a high school marching band. Mildly annoyed, I wake up and walk to my balcony. It's a bunch of young people participating in a miniature pride parade. Upon seeing the trans flag, I get a little choked up.

Tomorrow, Brazil!

*I did not cross into Suriname and immediately come back because I did not want to be hassled by immigration/customs.