The wooden long boat ride from the Suriname border to French Guiana across the Maroni River lasted 15 minutes.

We had read that we needed to be sure to go to the immigration office at the police station on the French Guiana side because most boats cross further down the river and bypass this process.  The assumption was that there would be waiting taxis to take us to the capital, Cayenne.

Yeah, well, not so much…  Thank goodness the female, French  immigration officer spoke English and she guided us in a specific direction where we might find one.

Note to self…. don’t ever pack your Tumi suitcase for an international trip again – never, ever!  I don’t even like my Tumi.  It was a backup for Charleston and used very little.  It was the smallest suitcase, which was important.  The wheels are tiny and the pull handle is flimsy.

I had to pull that stupid suitcase down the bumpy, gravelly, pothole filled road.  We couldn’t use the safer earthen walking path that paralleled the street because I had my Tumi! Bill brought our old work horse Eagle Creek roller that has 28 years and several trips around the globe on it. You can’t ruin that one and it even turns into a backpack.

The area started out quasi industrial then turned residential /commercial.  There was a group of guys hanging out at an apartment complex.  One popped up and asked if we needed a ride.  Of course we did but Safety 101 says “heck no, we’re just out for a stroll”.  Bill and I looked at each other trying to telepathically decide how to answer.  Yes. We need a ride.  Follow me.

We walked towards the shore (good sign) where he introduced us to Kinglal – Bob Marley with 30 years on him – wearing a long knitted cap with his beard tucked behind his t-shirt and sporting a yellow, green and red polo.

We followed him to the shore where the “non-immigration” boats arrive.  What a racket.  He showed us his van and asked us to wait as he had two more passengers arriving.

Kinglal was a man in charge – completely engrossed in the busy situation unfolding – passengers getting on and off the boats, suitcases and bags of goods going to and fro, at the same time he’s checking for his passengers and people are trying to visit with him.

One passenger finally showed and the other should arrive anytime.  Wait – just wait.  An hour and a half later and thoroughly ticked off – stood up by a client – he loaded us up, drove 30 feet, stopped and told us get out and get in another van.  He grumbled about how much time he had wasted – blah, blah, blah….

Off we went.  Rolling hills and jungle for three bouncy (van’s shocks were shot) hours before we showed up at a grungy apartment complex where we’d be staying. There were no hotels available (a downside to traveling without specific plans) and this was Plan B.

We had no local money,  no one spoke English and the neighborhood looked sketchy.  Bill said he didn’t want to be out in the dark and the sun was beginning to set.  Down the street were the Golden Arches.  Assuming they’d take a credit card we headed that way and yeah – we ate there.

A Chinese market (that would be a tiny market owned by the Chinese – between French Guiana and Suriname they’ve got a monopoly) was next to the apartment.  We ventured in to see if we use our credit card to purchase food.  The gal agreed to let us to use our debit card.  Score!  We were able to get water, snacks, and wine.

Since we weren’t overly thrilled with our accommodations, we decided to catch a ride to the border town of Oiapoque in Brazil the next day. Just a day trip. It looked like it would be a great way to fill the day until we could change our sleeping situation.

Guyana, Suriname, French Guiana and Brazil are contiguous.  We’re moving East and we’ll have to backtrack later on.

We spend the evening researching the process, found a driver and headed to Brazil.