I need to make one of these for myself...
The sailing season is coming to a close and if I don’t stop loafing around Saint Laurent du Maroni I’ll miss miss my chance to visit Martinique this year!
Solution….
Hang up the “Gone Sailing” sign and head North for a few weeks.
I’m at sea… ETA Tobago in 5 or 6 days…. if the fishing is good.
What are you doing?
Heading North from Fortaleza, Brazil
Already on your way to Saint Laurent du Maroni?
From Brazil it’s a leisurely sail with favorable winds. It took me 10 days to reach the Salvation Islands (Iles du Salut) following the rhumb line and while it would have been nice to visit São Luís (Saint Louis) and Belem on route, my tourist visa had already expired. They will have to wait for Eileen of Avoca’s…. Brazil take two adventure…
Reaching Saint Laurent du Maroni from Trinidad and Tobago
Heading South from Trinidad and Tobago isn’t as hard as it’s been made out to be. Yes, you may have days where the wind is on the nose and yes, there are places where you will battle a ferocious half knot of current, but if my boat can get there, so can yours…
The best departure point is Store Bay in Tobago. Head past Toco Trinidad, and take a direct bearing from there. The only obstacles you will encounter are Trinidad’s oil platforms to the southeast of the island.
Friends who have experimented with a more coastal route, following the 20m depth contour along Guyana and Suriname, have found that the winds and current are more favorable. Go for it by all means if you have crew. It takes about the same amount of time but you will avoid some motoring.
Here is the official list of buoys marking the entrance and route to Saint Laurent on the Maroni River.
Position of buoys on the Maroni River
NOTE: M14 may have been moved… I’ll check the position shortly.
Last but not least, tide data can be found here and here.
I expect to have a number of supervised moorings available for sailors wishing to leave their boat during the hurricane season. For inquiries contact www.marinaslm.com
For flights in and out of French Guiana, you have the choice of Paramaribo and Cayenne as departure points. They are about the same distance in terms of travel time from Saint Laurent.
Is this carnival... Brazilian style?
French Guiana has the worlds longest carnival… It can run for months….. As you can imagine, I’ve been busy…. but only on weekends!
The rest of the time I get to play castaway…
Sleepy Saint Laurant du Maroni
For those of you who can’t come join the party, here are a few photos to add a little colour to your day…
Carnival queen 2012
Looking rather leafy, it’s the carnival queen for 2012 leading the parade of… of…
It's Pirates of the Caribbean... not...
Pirates?
Closely followed by….
Dancing incognito?
The masked… the masked… OK, your guess is as good as mine…
You got something to say about my hair?
Apparently anything goes as long as it’s colourful…
Let me guess... Is it shrek?
Green is good…
It's Eliza Doolittle in French Guiana!
and so is pink…
Feeling blue?
But I’ve always thought I look better in blue…
So I’m off to the laundromat to take my mind off all this partying…
Now things are really heating up...
Friends think that this is more my pace…
More my pace? I hope not...
I beg to differ…
While I’ll never be able to compete with this fellow… despite occasionally being labeled something of a “space cadet”,
Welcome all Space Cadets!
I pride myself as being more the pensive type…
While everyone was at the parade, someone stole my hat!
But back to the parade… where young…
Young Amerindian on parade
and younger…
Children taking part in carnival parade
Make their way through the enthusiastic crowd of bystanders…
It's great to bee here...
Enthusiastic that is… until the weather puts a damper on things…
Don't rain on my parade!
Surprise surprise… a little rain but the party continues….
Bring forth the backhoe…
Even the backhoe gets a makeover for carnival
I mean the dragon…
Follow the music...
and the… the whatever it’s supposed to be…
one short cat nap later….
So that's what they carry in their handbags!!
and it’s off to my favorite bar for a nightcap…
Service with a smile at Mambari
Times are obviously tough… 
The kayak is dead… long live the kayak…
As all good stories should, this one starts in Brazil…, you see, my inflatable Sevylor kayak, i.e. the deceased, was just too novel for its own good, and probably also too yellow for the local natives to ignore.
Even before I’d reach the shore from my anchorage of the day, children would inevitably be climbing aboard or seeking a handhold for a free tow to the beach. Mind you, there were times when I didn’t seem to mind if it was treated a little roughly… 
I'm not going to interrupt this...
and if the interest had stayed at just wanting to hitch a ride, perhaps my kayak would have survived a little longer. But no…, for some inexplicable reason, a surprising number of people seemed to think that inflatable kayak was a synonym for public trampoline! Even adults!!! Why on earth did they insist on walking all over it in their shoes and then feel compelled to take a nap on it? Right under my nose! The mind boggles…
I’d almost consigned my poor kayak to the trash while visiting Tobago, after a crowd of mini delinquents spent an evening leaping from one sailor’s dinghy to another, deflating the lot. But with a little first aid, Thierry and I managed to resuscitate the craft. At this point it’s innards were securely held together with bicycle patches, but how much patching can keep a kayak together when mysterious somebodies insist on stomping on it while you’re away?
So, what's the verdict doctor?
The straw that finally broke my kayak’s back remains a mystery. Perhaps it was being used as cushioned seating, or as a convenient step to climb over the pontoon fence it leaned against. I’ll never know..
Do tell however if anyone has an indestructible dinghy for sale…I’m in the market. Preferably an electrified one fitted with steel jaw traps to deal with stray budding gymnasts…
No marina... yet....
There are currently just four yachts other than Eileen of Avoca anchored off Saint Laurent du Maroni. Two aren’t all that seaworthy and the owners of the remainder have apparently settled in for the long haul (they’ve been living aboard in the same spot for years)!
So with new services (marina phase I) in the works, I guess it’s time to do something about attracting the active cruising community. Not so easy when you consider that there’s hardly a mention of Saint Laurent du Maroni in the sailing literature or even on the Internet for that matter.
Mind you, noonsite has recently updated its listing and Sail The World (the Standard & Poor’s of the French sailing community) may be forced to upgrade its marina rating (currently CCB) once the word gets out!
Gendarmerie on river patrol
The security rating is particularly harsh given that the Gendarmerie regularly patrol the area ( I can report that there have been no thefts in the time I have been here), and I certainly don’t see how a free anchorage could have attracted a C rating…
For your web browsing pleasure, I’ve collated some web links to fill the information void:
First up, the official web site for Saint Laurent du Maroni:
Run through the translator it even starts to make sense:
More importantly (for sailors of course), what’s the weather like today?
And how’s the provisioning (for like-minded souls who also regularly think with their stomach)?
For the virtual tourist voyeurs, here are some photos of the place that I didn’t take:
And for the budding botanist, a video of the local flora.
Well, I guess it’s a start… More soon, of course…
Oil Painting of Eileen of Avoca?
I first read of the Yarmouth23 in a yachting magazine in 1999. Two years later, while working in London (and inspired by a weekend at the London boat show), I paid a visit to the yard in Yarmouth on the Isle of Wight where the little gaffers were originally built. I felt it was time to get a closer look at this diminutive classic cruiser.
It was love at first sight… Trite way of putting it, but true nonetheless, for it was at this point that I resolved to buy one. But it was not until I came across Eileen of Avoca in late 2007 that I had the means to do so.
While there were two other Y23s for sale at the time, the rather neglected Eileen curiously drew my attention. Like a mysteriously abandoned ship, the cluttered disarray inside gave me the impression of a hurried yet temporarily departure. At the risk of being overly anthropomorphic, Eileen of Avoca seemed to be patiently waiting for her crew to return.
I was told that the owner (Bill Boyall) had died and that while his boat looked rather run down, it was more or less only a cosmetic issue. With a new injection of funds to spruce her up, Eileen was soon looking as good as new.
I am thrilled with number 9 and I can’t imagine anyone else with one of these boats being any less enthusiastic. Much to my friends and families distress it’s been where I’ve spent all of my free time. Dolly Parton’s song Joleen (just substitute Eileen) sums up how the significant others in my life have felt about my boat. lol
From what Bill’s granddaughter tells me, he was similarly bewitched by Eileen’s charms… With her permission (and while the PDF can also be downloaded from the Yarmouth23 Owners Association site), I am re-posting Bill’s journal of his adventures with Eileen of Avoca to ensure it remains online.
And for those of you who have always wondered about the vessel’s name and history, I feel it is best conveyed through Ellana’s ( Bill’s granddaughter’s) own words…
“Eileen of Avoca is named after my nan and the part of Ireland that she came from, Grandad bought the Y23 in 2001 and she was launched in 2002, my nan had died in 2000, they had been happily married for 50 years and the new boat gave him something to focus on. My grandad loved sailing for as long as I can remember and Eileen was his 3rd boat, he previously built Ellana and Ellana II, the latter is a Lysander which is now owned by my brothers. Alas neither of these boats were actually named after myself nor my nan (and the name that her father called her when she was a child). She would not allow grandad to call the boats Eileen when she was alive!”
Where are Eileen of Avoca's fans?
The USA always tops the hits statistics, but this is certainly because most of the automated indexing and search engine robots come from there.
France and the UK fight for second place, which is really quite amazing considering that the French followers are mostly using translation software. How does my site read when literally translated into another language? Awkwardly?
I suspect that the Ukraine is my never ending source of SPAM blog comments, but that I do indeed have a small following in Russia after this article:
http://www.yacht-com.ru/news/v-odinochku-cherez-atlantiku.html
Then there’s my ex-colleagues from Luxembourg, my dear friend from Hungary (singular), and the odd but consistent visit from places I’ve never been.
Do I really have someone reading my blog from Japan? If so, greetings and salutations!
Now take a look at this… Popular Google search terms that have lead people to this site:
No surprises here but how about:
Do you suppose they found their answers from reading this blog?
I certainly know these people didn’t derive much in the way of enlightenment:
However, it’s the more esoteric ones that I like the best:
The secluded anchorage of Saint Laurent du Maroni
As I am now involved in this ambitious project to promote and develop Saint Laurent du Maroni as a commodious stopover for visiting yachtsmen, I might as well pass on the following supplementary information….
Despite what noonsite states, Saint Laurent is in fact situated on the Maroni river rather than the Moroni…., though I must say that the later does have a certain humorous dyslectic ring to it.
Oh, and it really doesn’t rain here 9 months of the year…. It’s more like 7… lol. OK, so I’m nit picking, but some of you might find the following useful given that the only data currently available for yachtsmen on Saint Laurent is…
Quote (without spelling errors): “This is French Guiana’s biggest and busiest river, and is is on the border with Suriname. There is reported to be a marina 20 miles up the river, at St Laurent.”
If this can reach Saint Laurent, so can you...
Climate:
Paperwork:
Saint Laurent du Maroni is an official point of entry.
Visit the PAF (police aux frontières ) at the car ferry to have your passport stamped (entry and exit). Not obligatory for European citizens, but prevents issues when your next stop is Suriname.
Customs (la douane) is in the administrative center.
See image for directions (X marks anchorage, yellow highlights for offices mentioned above).
X marks the anchorage
Docking:
Saint Laurent is approximately 15 miles from the mouth of the Maroni River. A buoyed channel for cargo vessels marks the route (3m minimum depth at high tide). If in doubt (buoys are widely spaced), keep as close as possible to the French side of the river.
Beware of fishing nets when approaching the Maroni river’s safe water mark. While night entry is possible, it is not recommended as buoys closer to Saint Laurent are not lit.
Yachts anchor on the upriver side of a semi-submerged (tree covered) wreck in 4 to 6m. Holding in mud and sand is good.
Local services:
Proposed Marina:
Development is currently underway for a marina, providing finger pontoons, mooring buoys, secure dingy dock, club house, and Wi-Fi.
Eileen at anchor, Saint Laurent du Maroni
After a week at sea, the little blue boat is back in French Guiana…. Saint Laurent du Maroni to be precise. Why?
Is it because the leopards here are considerably more desirable than zebra?
Perhaps… I’ll certainly endeavor to devote some of my time and energy to properly reflect upon the pros and cons of each regions disparate fauna.
But there is another underlying reason for my abrupt shift in sailing itinerary…
Model of proposed marina
Had my stay in Chaguaramas been pleasant, had it adequately accommodated my yacht maintenance requirements and had it more or less met my expectations, I would now be on my way to Martinique and beyond.
Instead, my disenchantment with the yachting services and facilities in Trinidad and Tobago have prompted me to seek out alternatives….
Model of boat yard
Unfortunately, there are very few, and evidently the yards at Chaguaramas are well aware of this, (having adjusted their pricing and work ethic accordingly).
This particular sailor wasn’t happy. Nor were many others I’d met along the way. So, with a little help from my friends, some of us decided to do something about it.
The idea of a marina and yacht maintenance complex in Saint Laurent du Maroni was born. Plans were drawn up, a proposal submitted to council. Upon acceptance, Thierry and I sailed back to French Guiana to make it all happen.
View of proposed yacht service complex
Does this spell the end for the adventures of Eileen of Avoca?
Not likely, if anything, it is a new impetus, the stimulus required to ensure Eileen’s adventures continue. My Yarmouth23 has simply found a temporary home in the jungles of French Guiana, and if all goes well, Saint Laurent will soon offer everything a sailor needs.
Undoubtedly I will derive considerable satisfaction in developing a new viable alternative to Chaguaramas.
Feel free to come and visit!
My cell block comes with a view.
Here I am doing time with hard labor in Chaguaramas prison… Well it may not look like prison, but it certainly feels like it!
It’s hot here… much too hot. I’ve never been anywhere where I’ve suffered the heat as much as in the yards of Chaguaramas, and that includes the deserts of Egypt and Australia.
Not the slightest hint of a breeze. The sultry air saps your strength so that just walking between the yards and the chandlers is exhausting, and here I am hoping to carry out maintenance work on Eileen of Avoca. Absurd isn’t it?
Another dawn in sultry Trinidad
The smart people leave their boat with a to-do list for the yard and fly back home until the end of the hurricane season.
The not so smart (smart here being a synonym for wealthy), live aboard, hire an air conditioner, and deal with their own to-do list before the end of the hurricane season.
Then there’s me….
Eileen of Avoca entering the stocks in Trinidad
I don’t even have a fan on board, I think someone’s dog ate my to-do list, and I’ve apparently confused hurricane season with leopard hunting season…
Unfortunately Trinidad is under a declared state of emergency.
What does this mean for wandering yachtsmen? It means that after you’ve labored all day in the stifling heat you get to stay in your boat all night to enjoy more of that stifling heat, plus a swarm of mosquitoes and cockroaches as a bonus. Did I mention the stifling heat?
It’s lock down by 11pm or a 5000 US dollar fine and possible imprisonment if you’re caught wandering about at night.
To top it off, sailors are falling ill with dengue fever by the dozen, and there is at least one death a month through yard accidents…. Will I survive the hazards of boat maintenance in Trinidad?
Well, here is what I’ve been busy with during the day…
I've removed the propeller shaft and rudder
and…
Replaced the old stuffing box with this...
and…
Machined a new rudder pin and cutlass bearing...
and…
Bolted it all back together...
voila!
Now I just need to give Eileen a new coat of anti-fouling
And this is what I’ve been doing at night.
Nightlife in Trinidad
If anyone is reading this, please post bail and get me out of here….
Perhaps I should have done a little more research, because Chaguaramas is:
Moreover, Trinidad in general:
Does Trinidad have at least one saving grace?
Might things be looking better after all?
Or perhaps two?
I appear to have my hands full....
Nah, they never did call me back after my phone was stolen… 
Final verdict on Trinidad and Tobago?
Get me back in the water a.s.a.p.
I liked it so much that I’ve decided to give up on the Caribbean and sail back to South America for Christmas. I suspect that the lure of the leopards and continued PBBS are to blame.
Dear friends,
I am not ignoring your calls and text messages. I’ve had my phone stolen in Tobago and despite the thief answering my SMS offering a reward for it’s safe return with:
“THE SIM IS IN A BLACK BAG BY THE BUSSSHED BY RAINBOW HOTAIL”,
I didn’t find it, and I don’t have a backup of my contacts!
While I have recovered my former Trinidad and Tobago number, there is nothing I can do about my Belgian SIM. You will have to call or text me if you want to keep in touch. Alternatively, send me a message via my web site here.
Warmest regards,
David
Getting to grips with the local terminology
What new adventures or rather misadventures have befallen our not so intrepid navigator?
I’ve been “liming” and “wineing” after lavish dining in Tobago…
For those not in the know, liming is hanging out and partying without any particular reason. Any excuse is good for a loiter or a lime. Wow, I’ve been liming for years and I didn’t even know it!
Let me see...... how does this dance step go?
But to wine on the other hand, is something I’ve not been exposed to, despite my penchant for exotic dance styles. It had me rather confused at first because I’d always, (perhaps naively) assumed that you need to occasionally face your partner to dance with them.
Well. in Tobago it all works somewhat differently from what I’ve grown accustomed to.
For me, the singles scene (in which I reluctantly reside once more) in western Anglo-Saxon culture is all about men standing around with beers in their hands admiring girls dancing with each other.
OK, sometimes they drink whiskey or rum, but you kind of get the picture, yes?
Obviously I’m generalizing because Latin night with your local dance school doesn’t count, nor does that ecstasy induced rave you went to the other day!
So back to the single men standing around with beers….
Only when sufficient liquid courage is imbibed, does some inebriate soul (magically transforming into John Travolta a la Grease… but only in his own mind), try to break the unspoken rule (stay disinterested) and strut his stuff on the dance floor in vain attempts to break up the girl posse.
A gyrating drunken stranger awkwardly lurching toward his desire of the evening will affect a universally standardized reaction….
“Who the #$%@ is this guy?”
“Haven’t a clue, just ignore him”
Half a song later the wannabe Travolta has stumbled off to “the white porcelain telephone to god”, and the beer toting wall flowers (that’s us macho types) are left elbowing each other with feigned nonchalance.
“Did you see that?”
“Yeah, what a jerk”
“Glad that wasn’t me. Let’s get another beer…”
Care for a wine with a Zebra?
In Tobago they’ve developed an interesting variant..
Girls still congregate in packs on the dance floor, but the inebriate male (realizing he can’t possibly be John Travolta reincarnated), sneaks up behind the girl, and demonstrates his interest by rubbing his pelvis against her derrière.
If she likes him, she rubs back…. most vigorously. Why it’s called a “wine” is a mystery but I’m not complaining!
If she doesn’t like him, she moves off and places herself closer to more appealing dance partners.
But how does she know if you’re deserving of a good wine or a quick exit? Especially when she’s been facing the other way the whole time?
I suspect it’s either a trick involving mirrors or some secret signal communicated by members of the girl posse.
The intricacies and formal etiquette on a wine currently escape me. Many questions remain including:
Perchance these mysteries will be resolved when I reach Trinidad… I’ll keep you all informed.
Anchorage at Crown Point, Store Bay, Tobago
So this is what life for the wandering sailor is like in Tobago…. Crystal clear waters, sandy white beaches, a protected anchorage with local “watering hole” (aka Bago’s Bar) within swimming distance.
A cruisers paradise?
Unwittingly breaking the law by wearing camo pants!
——————————————————————————————————–
WARNING!
The following article contains adult themes
and may be detrimental to relationships!
If your wife or girlfriend visits Tobago regularly on “business”,
read no further…
———————————————————————————————————
Where were we… ah, yes, a cruisers paradise?
Not quite… Unless I rapidly age 20 years and swap my Y for an extra X chromosome. Apparently I’ve stumbled across one of the Caribbeans more discrete “sex tourist” destinations, and last time I checked, I’m not biologically equipped to take advantage of it.
Collecting the garbage?
Never fear, plane loads of prospective clients arrive from Europe and the USA on a weekly basis. All seeking a taste of Caribbean surf, sea and sun.
These “garbage trucks” are greeted with open arms!
But what, do I hear you wonder, on earth is a “garbage truck”?
It’s the local term for sugar mummy… Ouch! Do I detect a touch of animosity here?
Evidently Tobago is the place where middle aged women come to find themselves a young play thing to call their own for a week or two. The process is colloquially known as “collecting the garbage” (I live and learn…).
Armed with this inside information, I’ve placed myself at all potential collection points… “Sunday School at Buccoo”, various bars, restaurants and beaches in Crown Point and Pigeon Point, nearby nightclubs and casinos, but despite my eagerness to find a sponsor to pay for “a lifestyle I wish to become accustomed to”, I’ve failed miserably at having myself collected!
Apparently it’s because I’m blighted with skin pigment deficiency… I’m melanin challenged…. or to put it bluntly, just too darn white. Everybody here knows that the discerning sugar mummy prefers her men in black…
Are you being served?
No problem… I’ll just go hang out with the Rasta types instead….
Aren’t Rastafarian’s supposed to be laid-back marijuana smoking, long haired hippie types? Wouldn’t a sailing bum be warmly welcomed as an honorary well-traveled spiritual brother? Apparently not!
According to the Britannica… [ source of all wisdom :p ]
So far so good… worship whatever divine being you wish to as far as I’m concerned… but…
Wow, heavy stuff man… Not wanting to disappoint I’ve since been doing my best to live up to my evil reputation by subjecting all and sundry (in Tobago) to my degenerate and “inferior” ways.
Don't touch it.... It's evil....
It's Eileen of Avoca at sea!
Yes, I’m in the Caribbean…. Excuse enough for the increasingly spasmodic postings. But was my sourcing of these wonderful snapshots of Eileen of Avoca at sea not worth the wait?
For six days Thierry on his 41 foot Feeling (called Ti’nga) kept pace with Eileen on route to Tobago. Sometimes I thought it was just to irritate me, but I’m assured his reasons were wholeheartedly altruistic. Not that that prevented me from raving like a madman whenever he came too close…
Madman rages on Eileen.
I think he took a perverse pleasure in literally sailing circles around Eileen in the light winds.
That just about sums up the voyage. Light winds…
I’d have set more sail (including the seldom used topsail), if only I didn’t have to worry about the numerous squalls between calms. One minute I’m motoring at a steady 4 knots (head-sails furled) and the next I’m running before a squall at 8kts adding another reef to the mainsail. Absurd!
Eileen runs from another squall.
I guess it’s all to be expected in a days (or six) sailing.
The good news is that I’ve made it to Tobago. It’s taken some 7000 nautical miles of sailing and almost one year (since leaving Yarmouth) living aboard a 23ft boat, but I’m now in the Caribbean. Reward enough!
Though a celebratory cold drink (who needs a fridge when everyone else has one) is still the order of the day.
A beer aboard Ti'nga in Tobago
Here’s to living the dream (and working those abdominals) on the other side of the pond…
Cheers readers!
Ahoy there! Arrrr
Ahoy there fellow and would be adventurers!
I might have a tale or two to tell about Saint Laurent if you can spare me a moment or two…
Not so deep in the amazon jungle… err in fact not that close either… lies a small town forgotten by all..(except those seeking French welfare payments)… It’s “the place”, the ultimate stopover for hardy sailors seeking refuge from the torturous (flat) seas and tempests (10kts today) of South Americas Northeastern coast! Paradoxically, it’s the penal colony of Saint Laurent on the Maroni river in La Guyane.
No prisoners left these days, but curiously enough the place doesn’t even warrant a mention in any of my guide books.
Despite this, St. Laurent boasts:
I’d expected the town to be packed with tourists of all nationalities, but for some unknown reason St Laurent sees only a trickle of French visitors. Why the secrecy?
Hidden wonders!
For yachtsmen it is well positioned, (the Maroni defines the border between Suriname and La Guyane) so one can visit both countries from the one anchorage. However, from what I’ve seen of Suriname, I’d strongly suggest sticking to the French side of the river!
Here is what I’ve been up to over the past 3 weeks:
Spot Eileen!
I’ve hung out at the anchorage for yachtsmen, where I’ve made new friends…. Beware of the ferocious guard dog on their catamaran! I’m the almost invisible yacht in the photo…The pontoon is currently under repair but should be fixed by the time you read this… (in hardback at a bookstore near you…)
Buildings in the administrative quarter, Saint Laurent, French Guiana
The first thing I do when I arrive at a new destination is to take a few photos of buildings. It gets me in touch with the place and makes me feel suitably touristy (I’m just a touchy feely sort of guy) . No buildings in particular mind you…though a church often makes the cut (for karma points?)
For some reason, they wouldn't let me in....
Then it’s a matter of photographing whatever happens to take my fancy (architecturally) on the day:
Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas any more
Focusing on some of the more extreme examples that draw the eye.. or nose… (no not many live like this nowadays!).
A country cottage in French Guiana?
It would appear that the French government is happily handing out nice new commission houses for all takers… I was tempted to take three! But join the queue, there is a rush on them from clients on the other side of the river…
Nevertheless, St. Laurent isn’t just about burgeoning housing estates! Transport and communication have obviously had significant growth over the last few years…
Ground control to Major Tom.....
Can your television dish grow any bigger that this?
Runs like a dream... honest...
Perhaps a little more manure is needed here for adequate growth…
But I’m sure none of this superficial sophomoric photography is what truly interests readers… What if I venture to tell you of the more sinister aspects of St. Laurent?
Just take a look at this!!!!
Insidious hair extensions... what next?
OK, it looks like a local girl with a pretty smile. But what you may have failed to notice is the platted creature attached to her head! Fake hair extensions!!! Indeed, just the tip of the hirsute iceberg, as I was to discover during my three week investigation.
Upon closer inspection, a good 60% of the female population has succumbed to the diminutive form (i.e. the extension) or full grown variety (the complete wig or peruke). Twilight Zone music queued here….
I’m told they are all the rage in parts of Africa, but I’d never seen them…. ’till now that is… and I’m strangely fascinated…
Double trouble.... New found friends from Martinique
No, these girls are not wearing wigs… I checked… There are secret ways….
It’s Regina and Anne, from Martinique stepping out of cell number 47.
So?
Papillon
Ever read the Henri Charrière book Papillon?
Apparently he was holed up here while waiting transport to the Salvation Islands off Kourou where political troublemakers were kept.
Now that could be a wig…
What to do to kill time in the Amazon....
It’s Pamela Anderson on the Maroni river… Or perhaps it’s Pamela superimposed on a photo of the Maroni river. It was proudly displayed to me by an Amerindian in the jungle and has pride of place in his hut next to the chain saw…
Yes, in the few hours of leisure time afforded by my hectic schedule, I managed to wander about in the amazon jungle seeking calendar girls and wildlife…. and here is proof..
I can't figure out why I'm wearing shades...
Not that I managed to see much wildlife. In fact there was more on display in town.
I have a lizard this big...... lol
Oh, and did I mention the wild night leopards of Saint Laurent?
Too dangerous to approach for a close up...
Apparently they come in all sizes (both with and without wigs…)
To be expected when I hang around rather dubiously named establishments such as this:
Just hanging out at a "titi" bar....
Don’t worry… I didn’t spend all my time there…
The three wise men...
We three wise men (see photo) have considerably more cultural pursuits in mind with regards to entertainment…
Apparently this means "courting women"...
Like admiring the local tribal art…
View of the Maroni River
Enjoying nature
Local dragster... or smugglers delight...
Checking out what passes as a hot-rod streetcar in these parts…
Listening to a little Bach before tea...
And other high brow cultural pursuits…
No mosquito is going to feast on me!
Not taking my anti-malaria medication (Malerone), because thankfully there aren’t too many mosquitoes, has probably been my most daring accomplishment do date!
Thrilling, isn’t it?
Go get them Buffy....
Though I was kind of tempted to wait for this bus on a dare,
Thierry taking his lunch break
In a borrowed canoe we explored some of the Maroni’s tributaries…
The treasure hunters of Saint Laurent
hunting for lost treasures…
Unearthing the lost treasures of Maroni
I found a spoon!
It could have at least been a silver spoon
Sneaking across the border...
Sneaking across the border to buy 10 liters of dingy fuel at half price was also rather adventurous…
The photo that almost cost me my life... lol
I could have done without almost getting myself mugged (by the fellow in the black and white striped shirt) for taking the above photo. Apparently smugglers are camera shy.
Public transport Saint Laurent de Maroni style
Lucky for me it isn’t very difficult to play the stupid tourist that doesn’t understand what all the aggravated fuss is about…. Frankly, it isn’t worth the bother crossing to Suriname and the Gendarme have enough to worry about as it is without having to look for lost visitors.
Gendarme on patrol
So, most of my time has been spent keeping out of trouble and watching what the locals do to pass the time.
Endless entertainment with a wheelbarrow...
I’m not that fascinated by wheelbarrows (though I did borrow one to see if I could extract a fraction of the enjoyment this girl managed with hers… I failed…)
Your bird goes with you everywhere...
Nor did I find lugging a bird cage around with me everywhere (in order to train its contents to win singing contests) my thing… but then again I’m always difficult to please…
The restaurant I didn't get invited to...
But always keen to eat at a good restaurant.
Hanging out with the gang.... It's Champagne and foie gras
Unfortunately nobody invited me to eat in this one (violin music starts here), so I’ve resorted to plan B. Good food and company to be found on Thierry’s boat Ti’nga. Even if his boat has cockroaches!
Next stop is Tobago…
I’m so keen… I’m already on my way…
Who needs a boat when you can do this!
