I started writing this blog a couple of weeks before something big was about to happen. If I had have known this thing would happen then I would have changed a few seconds of my life. But none of us can do that and I have still need to finish this blog and a couple more, so I shall continue on and for those unaware of what the hell I am talking about then just read on for a few weeks. You’ll find out.

To get to French Guiana I had to cross a fancy bridge after leaving the small rainy border town of Oiapoque, Brazil. In the rain. In my wet gear from the day before. I was the only person, so I took advantage of the opportunity and took a couple of pics. Exiting Shane from Brazil was relatively easy, although clearing my bike took a bit longer and when they disappeared into a back office with my bike paperwork for 20 minutes I was beginning to worry that they were adding up the fines I had accrued over my time in Brazil for speeding and toll avoidance. When they finally returned they were all smiles and friendly and wished me a good trip. Phew.

I always thought South America had 13 countries. But I was wrong. It only has 12. French Guiana is not a country but an overseas department and region of France. I’ve already been to France many times and yet here I was again, parking next to an EU sign. I had discovered this a while ago, but it hadn’t really sunk in. But how Europy is it? The border was my first clue.

It was very easy to get me and my passport stamped in, but my bike took a while. Lots of signing bits of paper using genuine old fashioned carbon paper. And a ledger and a little receipt book thing. The only European part was the price of the insurance for the bike. 95 Euro ($163AUD) for 15 days of third party insurance. Minimum amount, even if you are only staying a few days. Well at least they smiled and were polite as they robbed me. And they did so in French which seemed much nicer.

 And. And. They didn’t ask me for my yellow fever certificate. All that stress for nothing.

Before I continue, I should explain that along the northern coast of South America there are three small countries. Sorry. Two small countries and a French Territory. I was now in French Guiana and next, it would be Suriname, and third will be Guyana. At one stage there were 5 different Guianas or Guyana’s. The spelling is interchangeable. To the left of the map of South American Guyana’s was Spanish Guiana which no longer exists and is now part of Venezuela. Then British Guyana which is now just called Guyana. Then Dutch Guyana which is now Suriname or Surinam. Then French Guiana. Then Portuguese Guyana which is now just part of Brazil from where I had just come. Pretty simple really.

The Guyana’s are known to be expensive and not well visited, and most of the people live along the main coastal road as there’s not many other roads. To the south of all Guianas is just jungle and the Amazon.

Back in the 1600’s there was lots of land grabbing happening with the Dutch, British, Portuguese, French and Spanish turning up in their fancy ships and claiming areas as their own. Don’t worry about the people already living there. Claiming a place was easy but holding on to it was a lot harder. I suppose ultimately Portugal did well keeping Brazil (the largest country in South America) and Spain did well, keeping nine countries that still speak Spanish today.

A lot depended on what was happening with wars in Europe as well, and South American countries were often swapped as settlements of wars in other places. One deal I found amazing was Suriname. But more about that when I get there. It was all about wealth and power. The explorers were always looking for things to take back to Europe and sell. The jungles of northern South America didn’t have any great, easily accessible riches, besides timber, but they had perfect plantation weather for growing sugar, coffee, and cocoa. Only problem was they were labour intensive operations and for some reason the local inhabitants didn’t want to give up their land and then work on it for free.

So then someone discovered an untapped supply of free workers in Africa. And a few hundred years of slavery began. At first the slaves were easy to get as they had no answer to guns of their invaders. Later on, they often outsourced slave supply to entrepreneurial tribes, by supplying them with weapons to round up and dispose of their enemies. No wonder Africa is a continent of endless wars. Slavery is a rabbit hole I don’t want to go down. One, because it’s a huge labyrinth and the other is that I find it deeply disturbing that it even happened.

But it is an important part of the 3 Guyana’s so I had to read a bit about it. French Guiana is said to have had about 40,000 slaves brought over from Africa to work on the plantations. Slavery lasted almost two centuries and French Guiana was the last of the Guyans to abolish it in 1848. They emancipated about 13,000 slaves around this time. But fortunately they were able to replace the slaves with a new free source of labour which I will get to shortly.

The ride to Cayenne the capital of French Guiana was only 200kms and went through some nice jungle on good roads. For some reason they leave all the car wrecks on the side of the road. I’m not sure if it is a reminder or a memorial but there were lots of them. I stopped in at a little town to have a break and get a drink and an ice cream. Interesting little place on a river with a nice old church and a regional French feel about it. There seemed to be only one shop and there were several little groups sitting outside the shop or across the road in the park, enjoying early afternoon drinks. I ate my ice cream with an old guy who spoke a little bit of English. I’m sure he was angling for me to buy him a beer.

I rode into Cayenne about 4:30 and had prebooked an AirBnb. The owners didn’t live there and it was all done by phone. They had given me a code to get in the gate to the apartment complex but not the code to get into the apartment. I had no phone or internet or google translate, so I had to wander around and find somewhere to get some. The apartment was a couple of kms out of the CBD and it was hard to find somewhere open. I finally found a phone shop and a woman who spoke English. I sent a text to the BnB owner about the code but nothing. The lady then called the number for me on her phone. Still nothing. It was now getting dark and still raining and I wasn’t overly impressed. I sat outside the shop, sending texts etc and eventually the lady came out of the shop and said the owner had just called her and said she would send me the text with the code (and a half hearted apology). It was a 20 minute walk in the rain to get back to the apartment but I was able to get in and fortunately it was a very nice apartment. I parked my bike outside the front door and finally got out of my wet sweaty gear. It’s hot, wet and tropical in the Guyana’s. Within 10 minutes the apartment looked like a laundromat. By the way, accommodation in Cayenne isn’t cheap. It was about $100AUD a night

There was a little pizza place nearby that opened about 7:00 and so I ate and had a beer there. Nothing flash. But convenient.

I’d chosen the apartment because on the map it looked like it was close to the coast and so next morning I headed towards the beach, only to find lots of dead ends and private walkways and no access. I ended up walking along the busy road with some occasional crappy footpath. I came across a few reminders of the countries slavery past. I found the city smaller than I expected and quite disjointed. It was also lots of mangroves and mudflats. I can’t imagine how horrible it must have been a few centuries ago. There were some interesting old buildings which were very different to the other parts of South America.

There was a hill which had the remains of an old fort and gave a good view of the city and the surrounding water. When I entered through a small tunnel I noticed two young guys loitering nearby. They then split up and disappeared. It all felt pretty dodgy so I took a couple of pictures and decided to leave as I was the only person there. As I did, they reappeared, and blocked the path in front of me. It was quite confronting and I think they must have noticed I was considering my options. They said something in French and I went to walk around them and then side stepped in the other direction and then just as I did another person came through the tunnel and the two young guys took off. While I felt I would have been okay because there were people within screaming distance just outside the wall, it wasn’t a very pleasant encounter.

From there I went on to the street markets which were busy and alive and colourful. Probably the highlight of the city for me. Lots of nice food and fresh produce but I didn’t have any Euros. By the time I found an ATM to get some, the markets were too far back but I found a nice bakery and had a couple of really nice chocolate croissants.

I then walked past a big carpark where they were cooking up meat. The said they were open until 4:00pm and so I decided I’d come back just before then and get some for dinner. I then started walking along a footpath on a newish main road with a bike lane. As I did two teenage girls slowed down on scooters as if they were going to ask me something. Then one of them leant towards me and let off this horrible ear piercing scream and then they both burst out laughing and sped off. Totally unexpected and weird. Needless to say I was happy to get home and into the safety of my apartment compound. I did head out later to get some of the barbequed meat I’d seen earlier but I rode the bike. The French language barrier was difficult and I ended up with way more meat than I wanted but it was a good price and delicious and so the day ended with a win.

And I’m just adding this photo too. Its hard to see but there were flash advertising boards hiding the slum areas of people who could never afford the stuff that was being sold. I can’t say I enjoyed Cayenne. But you can’t like everywhere.

Next day I loaded up my bike at the front door because it was still raining, but regardless, I had to ride to the border town of Saint Laurent du Maroni to be able to cross by ferry into Suriname. It was only 3 hours on a good road and I had worked my days so that I arrived there on the Sunday night, so that I could get my tourist visa first thing on the Monday morning and then take the first ferry across the river. That plan didn’t work.