Border Crossings - Poo

If you don’t like to read about people’s problems and people complaining and whinging and whining, then skip today because it was a rough day, not at all fun, nothing interesting, very frustrating, and to me, totally unnecessary and the company should strike it from their itinerary.  The plan, I guess, was to give people the experience of a land crossing between two countries.  At best, this can be a nice experience to cross between a couple of booths and get the passport stamped out and then into another country.  At worst, it takes hours, there is a whole lot of hassle, a whole lot of wasted time, nasty officials, tired people, hungry people, people needing to use the bathroom, and more.  This experience was closer to the worst than the best. 

            So we’re all up at 3:30 a.m. to get our suitcases out of our doors to be collected by Chris by 4 a.m. and then we are going to hop on the bus and drive to the ferry which will take us across to Suriname where we will get new local guides and a new bus and then drive 5 hours to Paramaribo, the capital city.  Right away, I do not like the plan.  5 hours AFTER we get there and AFTER we have spent several hours getting out of Guyana!!!  Who made this plan and why the heck did we all agree to it up front without anyone complaining, myself and my hubby included!  Geez and a half!   As this group was all a bunch of seasoned and veteran travelers, we have all done land crossings and we all hate them.  The ONLY reason for doing this might have been it was easier and quicker to get the group visa for Suriname rather than everyone trying to get their own or rather than getting a group visa for traveling by air but I vote no forever more on the land crossing there.

            To the group’s credit, we were all up and ready to go on time.  Hubby and I carried our own bags down to the lobby as our room was rather out of the regular beaten path.  Just made more sense.  Our bags are going in a separate vehicle to the ferry crossing where we will then have to manhandle them ourselves onto and off of the ferry and through immigration.  So everyone checks to make sure their bag is in the group to be loaded and hubby and I help load a few, then we are onto the bus, in the dark, with our breakfast boxes with don’t have anything very appetizing in them.  I think I remember a rather smashed banana which was too smashed for me to eat and a juice bottle and a savory roll of some kind.  Not sure what any of it was but at least it was food and I think a good many of us ate it on the bus on the way to the ferry so that we wouldn’t have to carry an extra box with us once we left the Guyana bus. 

            We had made such an early start because Chris, our tour leader, had heard that there would be road construction and closing of various routes that led to the ferry so we had to be up and past those closures before they happened.   So we are out of Georgetown and over the pontoon bridge and on our way to the ferry before the cows are up and milked that morning.  We arrive at the Guyana border crossing well before the immigration guards are there.  We get an immigration form to fill in that we are leaving Guyana.  The one we had been given to keep at the airport is a different form so we don’t need it anymore.   Then we pass through a door into a waiting room and a guard looks at our passport and form before he lets us into the room. 

            Once in the room, an official kind of guy immediate has us step out onto the driveway and line our suitcases up against the wall and leads our group over to the park next door where there is a covered table and benches and tells us that we should wait there.  Didn’t sound very good to me as we have all left our bags along the wall and as soon as cars start coming through the gate to line up for the ferry, we can’t even see them.  I know my husband just wants to sit down and relax and be a part of the group but I want to watch our bags and stay vigilant for what’s happening because it looks to me like we will be squeezed out of the line and have a hard time getting back in line for immigration once the officers are there and ready to process.  Our tour leader had said that we would be allowed to go into the VIP lounge and they would process us first as a group.  Well that didn’t happen.  In fact, pretty much the opposite of that happened!

            There was a large group of people there from a number of churches that were going to a conference in Paramaribo.  Whatever benefits that we might have thought we were going to get as a group, we were overridden by the church group and they got to go in the VIP lounge and they got processed first and they even got on the ferry first as well.  We ended up being dead last because by the time the officers started processing passports and moving people into the building to get ready for the ferry, our group was shoved out of the line and we all had to sniggle our way back into the line with our suitcases and there were a LOT of people there trying to go to Suriname.

            Chris is trying to keep the group together and does for the most part except for one guy who has a lot of experience with land crossings and just works himself to the front of every line.  I wanted to work my way up to where he was as well but sometimes it just isn’t possible to convince my hubby of the merit of the idea.    We are stamped out of Guyana and moved into a small, hot room with a small snack bar which is doing a very lively business.  Our one guy is at the front of the room where he will be one of the first to exit the building and get on the ferry.  We are all at the back of the room.  The church group is in the VIP lounge.  Finally, I wander over and get some ice cream even though my hubby believes that, as a rule, you shouldn’t eat ice cream in a foreign country if you don’t know how the refrigeration is.  Has happened where I’ve gotten very ill from it but this time it was just tasty.  Then everyone in the group goes over to get some stuff. 

            By now, we have seen that the ferry has arrived and people have disembarked and cars have driven off but nobody is getting on.  After another 40 minutes or so, the cars that are waiting are allowed to drive onto the ferry but no pedestrians yet.  Any pedestrians that had been standing outside at the front of the building are forced to come into the building which pushes us all backwards.   The church group comes out from the VIP lounge and lines up in the driveway where the cars have just vacated.  They march (really truly march, almost) onto the ferry and then the doors are opened for the rest of us to enter.  Many people have no luggage other than a small purse or backpack so we are at a disadvantage in that we all have large suitcases and some of us have more than that.

            Our guy at the front moves through the door as one of the first ones out and he’s gone onto the ferry and we don’t see him again until we are stamped into Suriname.  As the rest of our group is moving through the door, the officials want to see our tickets.  Chris has the group tickets so he is motioning to our group to come through and we get in front of a few people but as soon as we are walking towards the ferry, everyone passes us since we are monitoring our suitcases so we are last on the ferry.

            It is a simple car ferry with just a small overhang on the car deck for people to sit and there are not very many benches.  By the time we are on the ferry, there are no seats and no room even under the overhang.  We stack our suitcases at the end of the covering and see that we can climb up some stairs where there are seats and benches up there.  We are very, very lucky that it didn’t rain while we were on the ferry although it thought about it and sprinkled a bit.

            Looking over the edge at the cars below, we are right above a pick-up truck that has the makings of a large picnic in the bed of the truck.  The people get out and open the cooler, take out sandwiches and boxes of food and drinks and get back into the truck to eat.  It is now around 11:30 or so and our breakfast boxes of 4 a.m. are long gone and just a distant memory.  The small ice creams we had while waiting in the hot room are also a fond but distant memory.  

            The Surinamese border crossing is not directly across from the Guyanese border crossing.  It is a 45 minute ferry ride down/up the river (wasn’t sure which way we were going).  So we have a bit of time to relax and hope that it doesn’t rain.  Doesn’t seem like 45 minutes at all though until we are getting to the landing and people are getting ready to leave.  Unfortunately for us, we are at the back end of the ferry.  We should have definitely tried to make our way to the front but we didn’t.  The boat docks and the passengers are allowed off first.  We had thought that the cars would exit so we had lifted heavy bags for several people up and over the railing between the passengers and cars but since the cars didn’t move, we had to lift the bags back over and then push them through the narrow walkway to get to the far end of the boat and climb up the ramp and exit the ferry.

            Naturally, that then put us at the end of the line to get into the immigration.  Oh Geez was this going to take forever.  An official suddenly says “if you are over 60, you can go in the Nationals line” ALL of our group is over 60 so we start moving forward but the church group is in front of us and I swear, for being a bunch of Christians who are supposed to help people and be kind and all that, they moved to block us off and wouldn’t let us in the door.  There is a big sign there that says Nationals and 60+ but we can’t get to it. 

            One of the church group leaders has taken it upon himself to move his people into the 60+ line even though they are Guyanese, not Surinamese and only maybe 4 or 5 of his 50 people are over 60.  The rest are kids and young mothers and a few young boys and girls.  The Immigration Official allows it and tells us to wait a bit before we go in the door as it is full in there and the A/C is running.   Unfortunately for us, the church leader comes back out to the door and even though our group had worked its way to the front of the door, he calls for the rest of his group to come in and get in front of us.  So they start pushing and shoving their way to get in front of us.  I am trying real hard to be diplomatic and polite but I start saying things like “hey, we are all over 60, what the heck are you doing getting in that line and let us in because the official told us to get in here” at which he told me that since we weren’t from Guyana or Suriname, we could just wait until everyone else had gone.  So much for Christian goodness to strangers!  Everyone for themselves at border crossings.  As we didn’t have our own group leader running interference for us for any of this immigration hassle, we were stuck in the back of the line and it took us 3 hours to work our way into Suriname.  AND we still got through faster than the “Non-nationals” line.

            Meanwhile, our one guy who somehow got onto the ferry without his ferry ticket, had seen this sign when he got off the ferry so he’d gotten in this line well before the church group pushed their way into the line and he had gotten out of immigration, gotten himself a nice cold beer, and met our local guide, and was sitting in the bus relaxing while he waited for the 3 hours it took the rest of us.  What a crock.

            Somehow, one of our members had tripped over a suitcase and gone down on her arm, hard, and skinned up a whole bunch of it.  So she had a makeshift bandage over her arm now and was still bleeding, thanks to the wonders of blood thinning drugs.  She was also one of the older members of the group, being in her 80’s, I think.  A Surinamese official came looking for older people and I told her we had several members in their 80’s and 90’s and she went and found our injured lady but our oldest member refused to go with her to cut in line and get through faster.  As the rest of us were still stuck, guess it didn’t really matter.

            Finally I am around the corner and maybe less than 10 people before I am going to be called.  I am the first one in the rest of our group.   There are two immigration people checking passports.  There is one man letting both lines to the windows and sometimes he will let several people from line one go to both windows and sometimes he will let several people from line #2 go to both windows.  There doesn’t seem to be a rhyme or reason to what he is doing.  When I get to him, he asks if I am a group and I say yes and our leader is at the back.  He asks me if our group leader is from Suriname and I say no, he’s from Canada.  He then gets rather huffy and says why do we have a group leader not from Suriname and how can he possibly lead a tour because he wouldn’t know anything about the country.  I explain that he just herds us from place to place and that we have a local guide who is currently waiting for us outside.  This seems to mollify him but he calls for Chris to come to the front of the line and he wants to question him.  I now go to the window to get my passport stamped so I didn’t see what happened next.

            I am told to leave my suitcases to the side and walk to the window with my passport and form.  We have had a piece of cardboard that says Suriname Visa stapled to the back page of our passports.  They never look at that.    The man asks me a couple of questions and then stamps my passport and I’m done.  I am herded through the room with my suitcases and the door opens for me on the other side (by an officer) and I am pushed into Suriname.  The last room where I was herded through was the room where they could have gone through my suitcases – customs – but none of our group got checked for any contraband.

            What happened after I was sent to the window:  Chris, our tour leader, was called to the official who is in charge of lines.  The whole room was sectioned off like an amusement ride or like any place where you have long queues.  So metal stanchions and railings in place and walking down one aisle, up the next, around the corner, down the next, etc.  Because Chris was being yelled at to hurry, by the official, he made a critical error and just jumped over the metal railing rather than go back and forth and push his way past people to get to the front of the line.  THIS made the immigration people VERY nervous and they reacted accordingly.  Suddenly they were all yelling at him to go back and stop right where he was and he later said that he saw two immigration officers put their hands on their guns.   Wow, I missed it all!  Luckily he had reached the officer that was calling for him and he calmed down his comrades and proceeded to check with Chris on why he was our leader and did we indeed have local help.  Most of these countries are very touchy on using their own people whenever possible especially if there is a problem with high unemployment.  As local people are usually the most knowledgeable on a country and the stuff that’s in it, a good tour company will always use local guides.   Chris satisfied him with his answers and our group continued to go through the passport line and before too long, everyone was finally out!

            We were met by our guide as soon as we came out.  Guess it was pretty obvious as to our group although there were a few other European types or North American types but none in our age bracket.  As Chris spends a lot of time on the phone, I’m sure he could have described each of us to a T before our guide walks up to us and introduces himself on the Suriname side.   Our bags are going into a separate car.  I climb onto our bus and get us a good seat.  There is our first guy who made it through hours ago, sitting with his beer and just waiting. 

            My hubby comes out about 15 minutes later and comes to the bus with his backpack but there’s no room so I direct him to the van with the luggage but he can’t find it.  He finally finds our local guide but somewhere between exiting the immigration and finding the local guide to take his backpack, he has lost his hat.  His beloved hat that covers the neck as well and has a nice ventilated rim and the hat that we have never seen on anyone else before but three other people here have the same hat.  Lucky for us they did because we were able to get the brand name and order some more hats for both of us as I had lost mine several years earlier.

            Finally, our oldest group member is the last one to emerge.  We get everyone on the bus (that’s always hard as people start getting off the bus again if they have to wait too long on others!) and our local guide says it’s going to be about 5 hours if we’re lucky and don’t run into too much traffic.  Geez again and double geez.  This is not a very nice day.  Again, a total waste of time in my thinking AND I am realizing that I have another trip in OCT where we are doing a border crossing in the ‘Stans!   It has got to be because it’s easier for tour companies to get a group visa for land crossings than for air crossings.

            The one tour member who had come through this area 42 years ago is in the front seat of the bus next to the driver.  He is quite happy because he wants to see what the country looks like after 42 years.  The rest of us, not so much.  But we doze and try to relax as we are rolling down the road, sometimes stuck in traffic and sometimes not.  We pull into a gas station for gas and some food and a toilet break.  We are directed to a small building towards the back of the station.  There are several ladies there already in a queue.   Some men come up and are directed around the corner of the building where there is a stone wall coming off the corner that is maybe 3’ wide and maybe 4’ tall.  The urinals are behind this so all the men coming to go to the bathroom have just barely got enough room to get unzipped without us seeing it all.   Luckily, not too many men come over to use the toilet.  The church bus pulls into the station.  I recognize several of the women that get off as being in the church group from immigration.  About 4 come over for the toilet and they don’t want to wait in the line so they go around the corner to the men’s urinal wall and just squat on the ground.  This small building is right above a creek on a small hill so they are squatting on the hill side and while they are probably shielded from people in the gas station, they are definitely in view from people who are on the other side of the creek going about their business. 

            Our group gets through the bathroom line and we go to the food line.  There is a small store and a small restaurant.  Hubby had gone in there to get food but he’s always a bit testy on what he should order for me.  Guess I have been more than a bit testy with him on more than one occasion for possibly making the wrong decision on what to get me.  While we are waiting, the cooks tell us they are all out of rice and only have noodles.  Our local guide says he knows another place down the road and we should hurry to beat the church buses that are probably going to stop at the same place.   So I run back into the store and get a few things – nothing much good but something to eat – some chips and cookies and that’s about it.  Since I had to hurry, couldn’t look at everything.  We all jump back on the bus and take off in a hurry to get to the next place so we can get some food of any kind that is cooked and hot.

            It’s not too far down the road where we stop and our guide and Chris get off to go get vegetable spring rolls.  They were possibly the best ones we’ve ever had.  Wish we had gotten a few more but they could have been the worst ones ever too.  You never know with these small roadside stands. 

            We are off again for a very dull and very long ride into Paramaribo.  But we finally did reach it and get to our hotel and get checked into our rooms.  Unfortunately, one couple, who was really tired, got a bad room.  I thought they were going to come unglued!  He was screaming and yelling and it took them through another room that was unacceptable until they ended up in the room next to us.  When we went into our bathroom, you could hear everything said next door.  I am glad that he spoke first because we knew to keep quiet then when we were in the bathroom.

            We were so tired from the day and the drive and the early rising that I honestly just wanted to go to our room and go to bed.  We must have had dinner at some point and somewhere that night but it’s blocked out right now.  So we’re just going to say “day over, day end”

Kaieteur Falls and Georgetown

            After our restless night of trying to sleep in the heat, we were really glad to get up and out of bed and outside where it was marginally cooler and up to the main house where it was definitely cooler with a bit of breeze off the water.  Breakfast is some more of local specialties.  Our food throughout the entire trip was really good and tasty and both of us returned with about 5 extra pounds.  That doesn’t happen very often with us because usually we go a cheaper route on food and then spend more money on sights and entertainment and souvenirs and such.  But most of the food was included for this trip.  That said, Baganara probably had the least tasty food.  Some of the local dishes were ok and some were just so so and there wasn’t that much of it either.  Usually there were three dishes and a dessert but they really tried to calculate how much food to make for the number of people.  While that’s admirable to keep waste down and such, by the time I was ready to go for a second helping, maybe, the food would be gone.  As I don’t take very much on the first go-round, I found myself being a bit hungry.   And I was taking a lot less the first time around because it definitely looked like it would be questionable if all the food lasted through the end of the line.  Some of our other group members were not so thoughtful of the rest of the group and had plates piled high.  Oh well.  Still came back with an extra 5 pounds which has yet to disappear.

            Anyway, today is our last day here.  We will be flying out to Kaieteur and then back to Georgetown for another night at Cara Lodge and then off to Suriname tomorrow.  I’m ready for a new country.  We are not being picked up by the airplanes until around noon and they are small planes so Chris is busy organizing everyone’s luggage by weight.  He had asked for our weights the first night here and was very diplomatic about it by having every person write it down on a piece of paper and then slip it into an envelope.  This guy knows how to handle people! 

            There was a set of  scales and Chris was busy putting the luggage on it and writing it down so I offered to help.  He gave me the paper to write down the weight of the bags.  Two people didn’t have any small bags to pack in so they brought their whole suitcase.  This was the one thing that Adventures Abroad screwed up on in their pre-trip briefing.  They didn’t tell us to bring a small bag to pack for two nights in the jungles.   You’d think the people that didn’t have a bag could have gotten one from somewhere but they didn’t so two whole suitcases were with us.  Chris was busy trying to read them from the scales which was impossible to do so I suggested he hold them and get the weight and then subtract his weight.  He’d never done that before.  Wow, they just don’t teach “youngsters” how to be logical and practical anymore!

            Took a while for some of the members to get out of their rooms and get their bags up to the lodge so I kept a watch out for new bags to weigh as Chris wandered off to do other things.  The owner opened his small gift shop and I went down there to look.  He had a few nice items including some animal type products which I am sure would not be allowed so I just bought a nice polo shirt with the Baganara logo.  And we paid for our drinks that we’d had the two nights which just consisted of cocktails the first night and then a beer.  They were asking way too much for the cocktails plus it took him so long to make them that we were through our dinner before the cocktails arrived.

            The planes finally arrived.  We have two but both are rather small.  One is going to haul just three people and Chris drew names for the people who will ride in that plane.  My husband was not interested in the small plane so I didn’t put my name in either.  Also Chris had said that the pilots could totally change the order of everything and turns out they did put a couple of people in the small planes that had not been chosen by draw.  

            We all walked out to the planes and hubby and I got there rather quickly because I wanted to make sure we had a good seat to view the falls from the planes.  It was not as I expected but both planes had wings over the body so at least no one would be staring at the wings as we were flying.  I had rather expected a plane with one aisle and a seat on each side.  What we got was a plane with 5 doors and a two person seat that stretched from one side of the plane to the other so everyone could access a bench seat from one of the doors but no aisle.   I plopped our bag onto one of the seats near the front as soon as I saw that another couple had put their bags on a primo seat.   Then the pilot got out a scales and told everyone he would weight them.  What the hey!  Bummer. Hubby and someone were first in line and he was calling out their weights.  I’m third in line and I tell him if he calls out my weight that I will hit him.  Don’t know why I said that but I was embarrassed.    Chris caught on about the same time and came and told him to be discreet so he didn’t call out my weight but wrote it down quietly.   Everyone finally gets weighed and for some reason, some of the weights hadn’t gotten accounted for so I had to get on again.

            Original plan was to go to the falls and then back to Baganara for lunch which seemed a bit silly so we had lunch before the planes got there.  Pilot is satisfied so he now starts putting people in the plane according to his way of weighting the plane.  Hubby and I end up behind one of the other married couples but they are in the one seat that doesn’t have a window directly next to them so I am thankful that we do at least.    Finally we are all in the plane, our small bags are in the nose cone including my purse, and we are ready to take off.  The small plane has already left.   We rumble down the runway and are off into the sky.  Don’t circle Baganara so really didn’t get to see it from the air.  

            In the air a bit, not too long, and we get the word that we are about to go over the falls.  Not sure which side it will be on and then we see that it’s on my side.  Chris had said that the pilot will circle so that both sides will see the falls but he didn’t.  He circled and I saw the falls but his circle was lining up for a landing so hubby didn’t get a good look from his side.   The small plane was already there.   As the pilot got out and opened the doors for us, we had to wait for the stool to be brought around and it was hard getting in and out of those seats but the falls were pretty fantastic from the air.   I got my purse from the nose cone but we were assured that everything would be fine if we wanted to leave it as the pilot would lock it.  Not sure he did but everything was ok.

            We had to wait for another plane to come from Georgetown before the ranger could take us to the falls.  Another two planes landed but one had their own private guide/ranger.  Our ranger gathers us up finally.  We’d had time to read the two signs that were in the station and go to the bathroom.  Gave us the naming of the falls.  According to the sign, the name is after a chief.  This is from Wikipedia:  “According to a Patamona Indian legend, Kaieteur Falls was named for Kai, a chief, or Toshao who acted to save his people by paddling over the falls in an act of self-sacrifice to Makonaima, the great spirit.

Another legend though was told to Brown by Amerindians in the night of discovery of falls: Kaieteur has been named after an unpleasant old man who was placed in a boat and shoved in the fall by his relatives. Thus the fall was named "Kaieteur" what means - "old-man-fall".””

And also from Wikipedia is this information about the falls:  “”   Kaieteur Falls is a waterfall on the Potaro River in Kaieteur National Park, central Essequibo Territory, Guyana. It is 226 metres (741 ft.) high when measured from its plunge over a sandstone and conglomerate cliff to the first break. It then flows over a series of steep cascades that, when included in the measurements, bring the total height to 251 metres (822 ft.). While many falls have greater height, few have the combination of height and water volume, and Kaieteur is among the most powerful waterfalls in the world with an average flow rate of 663 cubic metres per second (23,400 cubic feet per second).[1]

Kaieteur Falls is about four times higher than the Niagara Falls, on the border between Canada and the United States and about twice the height of the Victoria Falls on the border of Zambia and Zimbabwe in Africa. It is a single drop waterfall.[2]

Upriver from the falls, the Potaro Plateau stretches out to the distant escarpment of the Pakaraima Mountains. The Potaro River empties into the Essequibo River which is one of the longest and widest rivers in South America.””

            We got an Amerindian descendent for our ranger guide.  He took us to three overlooks.   We passed several interesting plants that he told us about as we walked through the forest.  There were some bromeliads that were taller than my 5'10" husband.  These are some of the biggest ones anywhere.  There were also some tiny carnivorous plants on the ground.  If you got close enough, you could see the tiny spikes on each one of the plants.  The ranger also spent some time looking in the collected water that was in the bromeliads.  Tree frogs gather in there but he couldn’t find one unfortunately.

            He warned us that there are no railings and no boundaries on any of the lookouts so we must all be careful on where we are standing and where we are looking so no one falls over.   We come to the first lookout and the falls are magnificent!  Truly remarkable.  They pour over the rocks and creates towering mists that rise from each side of the bottom where the water hits.  There are rapids in the valley running away from the falls.  There is churning and a maelstrom of activity at the bottom of the falls.  I am snapping photo after photo, just loving the look of the thing.  But it is a bit scary to see how close some of the people walk to the edge.  You have no way of knowing what is underneath you and if you are on an overhang or not.  I tried not to get too close but it is so temping to try and get that perfect shot to move every closer.

            After it seems that everyone has taken the shots they want, we move to the next viewpoint which is closer.  Again, magnificent all over again and beautiful in its power and force.   Many, many shots later, we go to the last viewpoint.  Our guide continues to look for frogs in the bromeliads but it is not to be.  He tells us about a few more of the plants but none of us are really interested at this point.  We just want to get close to the falls.

            The last viewpoint is right at the top of the falls.  We can see the Potaro river coming down to the drop off.  Surprisingly, there aren’t really any rapids before reaching the falls.  But the river is pouring off rapidly so the current is probably rather strong.   And it is not the high rainy season.  The river expands many feet during the rainy season and where we are standing right next to the river would be underwater.   Several of our group step into the river and one sits down on the rocks so that it looks like he is in the middle of the falls.  This was the guy who had been here 42 years before.  At that time, he had to come upriver by boat to reach the falls and they had to climb to the top of the waterfall.  A lot of work.  He also walked into the river and sat on the rock last time too and showed us a photo from 42 years before.  Wowzer.  I would have probably tipped over or slipped when trying to stand so there was no way we were venturing out to the rocks.

            Finally we are ready to head back to the station and the planes.  We did a group shot at the falls without Chris as he took the photo and then sent it to us all.   There are Cock of the Walk birds in this forest.  It is a rather brilliant orange bird with a crest and has rather wonderful mating habits.  The two strongest birders in our group had been told they would see them here.  As we are walking back, our guide takes a right turn into the trees and the group sort of follows him.  There’s no way we are going to see a bird with this group nosily stomping through the trees but several of us stand there in the woods and stare at the trees in the direction he has pointed.  He said he saw one but none of the rest of us did.  Another lady and I saw a small brilliant red flash through the trees but the Cock of the Walk is definitely orange so wasn’t him.

            Back to the plane.  We are loaded back into it in the same fashion so it takes a bit to get us all into the plane.  The other two planes that aren’t part of our group leave and then our small plane leaves and then we finally take off.  The pilot circles the waterfall sort of as he leaves but again it’s on my side so hubby never does get a good look at the falls from above.  What a wonderful sight.  It is Guyana’s pride to see this in the jungle.

            On the way back we get the views of the jungle from overhead.  You can see the river but sometimes it’s hard to tell what the gashes are in the rainforest.  Most of the gashes are mining operations.  A few are the result of mining where rocks and slurry have been piled in the river -  it seemed.  Was rather disconcerting to see beautiful forest and then a big open gash where there is equipment and trash and people and piles of slurry. 

            Made it into Georgetown and were picked up by our bus and on to Cara Lodge where we all got new rooms for the one night.  It was a tour night for eating food and since we have a fairly early start in the morning, Chris decided to have us eat at the hotel and turn in our orders now.  Chris seemed to think this always helped to turn in an order ahead of time so when we showed up, we’d have our food ready.   In theory, might have been a good idea but never worked quite as well in practice.  

            We got a different room and were right next to a conference room which said there was a Danish Embassy Reception tonight and people were busy getting the room ready.  Didn’t look like it would be a night to get much sleep if the room next to us was possibly going to be full of people drinking and partying.   I went off to find our left bags.  We couldn’t find them in the large closet where most everyone else’s bags had been put.  He led me upstairs to another hidden closet and the bags were in there.  Oddly enough, when I described one bag as having the Eiffel Tower on it, he didn’t know what I meant.  Never assume that everyone knows the most common world sights.  He had to drag out all the bags to get to mine.  The good part of that is, they were pretty safe being in the back. 

            I wanted to walk over to the Hindu Temple that had a big cobra curled around one of its domes and get a photo.  It was a bit further than I thought and we had to skirt around trash and garbage in the road.  I wanted to go on to the market but that made hubby            a bit nervous so after a few photos of the temple, I just wanted to find some kind of grocery to get a few supplies for the road tomorrow.  All we found was a sweet shop.  Got a few sweets but wasn’t at all what a wanted.  Had also wanted to walk to the Red House (president’s house) but it was further away so we didn’t get any photos of it either.  Back to the hotel then and some repacking to get ready for moving countries.

            Dinner time and the whole process of having our order turned in early might have helped a tiny bit.  We had gotten the news that we would be leaving around 4 a.m. and Chris had ordered a breakfast box for everyone.  The staff was totally confused by this as it is not done often apparently.  So the whole dinnertime, Chris is trying hard to get the breakfast boxes organized so we can all take them to our room with us to have for the morning.  Really didn’t work and even though having placed an early order might have gotten us out of there a bit faster, by 8 p.m. the breakfast boxes still weren’t ready to go so Chris got the chore of trying to deliver them to the various rooms later which he did.

            We’re getting ready for bed and Chris comes with our breakfast boxes.  We are packed and ready to go.  The reception next door to us broke up promptly at 9 p.m. and disbursed so no drunken revilers anywhere.  How great is that?!  We never heard them and not sure we would have.  Once our door was shut, we pretty much didn’t hear anything.  So to bed after a really amazing day with fantastic sights.

Baganara Resort Visit

          After a hectic morning gathering up everyone's "small" bag to take to the island with  us and storing our other luggage then riding around in a van with Eugene seeing Georgetown, we finally cross the pontoon bridge and make our way to a small boat that will ferry us up the river to Baganara.  It's not a very big boat but we all fit ok, put on life preservers and off we go.  As we travel upstream, we pass many small openings in the jungle canopy.  There are people living on the river and using it for their road.  Some of them are fishing families, some are mining families.  Guyana mines diamonds and gold and used to also mine bauxite for aluminium but I believe that mining has ground to a halt.  There are also quarries here and there for the stone and rocks.  Anyway, as we are travelling on the Essequibo River which is huge (3rd or 4th after the Amazon), there is a tide change in the height of the river so we see docks that are high and dry but with water markers on them that indicate the tidal change might be as much as 6' or so.  Also many of these home clearings are barely visible.  you know a home is there because a boat is docked and you can see a bit of a building far from the water's edge.  other clearings look to house 4 or 5 families.  it's hard to get any good photos because by the time I can see a dock and boat and look for the house, we've already motored past it.  And once again, I'm on the wrong side to get any good shots. Sometimes there are kids playing in the river.    This is a one shot ride because we will be returning to Georgetown via plane so we sit back and enjoy it.

          This is what Baganara's own web site has to say about itself:  ""Escape to an exotic Island Paradise and experience one of Guyana’s true gems. Luxurious, exotic & spectacular are just some of the words guests have used to describe Baganara, a tropical Island resort located in the Essequibo River. Our Golden sand beach, beautiful surroundings and blissful atmosphere, make us a favourite destination for locals and foreigners seeking a true getaway. An ideal destination for a myriad of occasions, we can cater to small groups such as families or larger ones for wedding, conferences, retreats & more. We pride ourselves in continuously providing the highest standards of service and hospitality.

ROOMS AND AMENITIES

Consisting of 15 spacious, well-ventilated and beautifully decorated rooms, the resort gives you the best of both worlds, having the feeling and comforts of home, whilst enjoying the cool and relaxing island life. Our other amenities include free WiFi, a conference center, a well-stocked bar which features local and international beverages, a gazebo overlooking the Essequibo River and a beach-front Bar-b-Que grill.

ACTIVITIES
Nature lovers and the adventurous types can choose to take part in several available activities such as Kayaking, beach volleyball or tours to nearby destinations such as Marshall Falls & Bartica.""

          As we are a group of 16, we will be the only guests there for our two nights.  Eugene, our local guide, and one other guide to help with our luggage and such, will be staying downriver at another resort because there's no room for them at Baganara.  The owner from Toronto has come down with his mother this trip and her companion so there's a couple of rooms gone but such is his prerogative and the fact that his 92 year old mother comes and makes the trip is amazing.  But then we have a couple of ladies in our group that are close to that age as well and doing much better at getting around on their own.  I do hope I am that agile and alert and able to travel when I reach that age as well!

          We didn't get there in time to take off on another boat ride for the evening parrot watch so pretty much all of us just relaxed for the evening.  We could either sit in the main lodge and have cocktails, or read, or watch the river - which doesn't have a lot of activity.  It was quite peaceful and calm.  For dinner, we had some of the local Guyanese dishes and for the life of me, couldn't tell you what we ate.  it was good but not overly inspiring.  They do have a local hot sauce both in Guyana and Suriname which will take the top off of your head.  I didn't notice anyone besides my husband and myself eating more than a tiny, tiny bit.  My hubby and I are pretty good with spicy foods so we enjoyed the hot touch.

          Finally it is dark enough and late enough to retire to our rooms so we walk back in the dark to our building which is about 1/2 km away from the main house.  One of our group walks with a cane so we walked with her to ensure she got back safely even though she probably didn't want or need the assistance.  And we walked with another couple where the wife seems fairly frail.  And luckily my hubby and I didn't trip over anything in the dark either.   It was a quiet night except for the generator running but that kept the fans running so I was happy to hear it all night.

          In the morning, after breakfast, we are organized into a boat trip to ride along the river and see some of the sights with a stop in Bartica, a mining town.  It is a different boat than the one that brought us but still comfortable.  Again, we get our lifejackets but some members of the group have decided they are superfluous and don't bother.  personally, I believe in safety and have read too many tales of capsized boats and such in odd little countries in Africa and South America.  At least we are not an overcrowded ferry but only our small group.

          We have to stop at the other resort and pick up Eugene and his helper and then we go upriver to Marshall Falls.  We pass an island with a prison on it.  The entire island is the prison.  The Essequibo river has over three hundred islands in it and some of them a large enough that you wouldn't know it's an island to see it - until you circle it.  The prison island had plenty of prisoners including a section where they go when they are about to be released - so they can learn what has changed in the cities where they are returning.  We could see people meandering about in this section.  Otherwise the whole island looks like buildings behind wire fences with no activity of life at all.  a bit creepy

          We pass by Bartica, the mining town.  We'll stop on our way back.  We pass some small communities of various sorts where miners are also living and these are usually close to a quarry of some type - mostly rock and stone quarries.  I think the diamond and gold mines are further in the jungle and more hidden.  We pass an island where there is an abandoned dock and an arch of stone where a fort used to be but has since decayed away into nothing.  Finally we pull into the shore and exit the boat for a hike to Marshall Falls.  Eugene takes us over a small hill to some rocky landscape so we can see the Marshall Rapids - rapids our boat will not shoot to go further upriver.  As we get to the rocks to overlook the rapids, a boat is coming downriver.  It has about 15 people in it, all ages, and not a single one has a life-jacket.  The water isn't too high though so the rapids aren't running too fiercely.  Still, they go through the rapids rather quickly and jumpily and then are out of sight around the corner.

          We head back into the forest and follow a path the goes up hill for maybe 3/4 mile and then downhill to the falls.  Marshall Falls is not that impressive.  Our view on the side of the river is blocked by several trees.  There is a wooden bridge over the river to the other side which is the side to be on for taking photos.  BUT the bridge has many missing slats across the walkway and no rails to hold onto and looks to be quite slippery and slimy.  Eugene hops onto the bridge and makes his way across.  In spite of the advanced age of most of the group, everyone is trying to get up onto the bridge to at least take photos and one member makes it across to where Eugene is.  At this point, Chris, our group leader, is freaking out and putting his foot down and telling everyone not to get on the bridge and certainly not to go across.  I'm still waiting for some of the slower members to at least get out of the way so i can get far enough onto the bridge to take a few photos.  Two of the slowest members of the group are in front of me and one falls on the slippery surface but isn't hurt.  She gets off the bridge and the other gentleman halts right in front of me and refuses to move.  i am quite frustrated as by now Eugene and the other guy have come back across the bridge and i still have no room to move onto the area to take a photo.  All I want is a photo and everyone is yelling to get off the bridge.  i just truly hate it when the people who already have their shots have decided that it's dangerous so no body else can do it.  So i just stood there until everyone else got off, then i moved out a bit to take a photo and then I got off the bridge too.  BUT I never got far enough out to take a good photo so i have nothing i like of Marshall Falls.  like I said though, it wasn't very impressive.  The best part was the color of the water which was quite coppery from the minerals.

           So back up the hill and down the hill on the other side to the boat where one lady had waited rather than try and climb the hill with her cane.  I had used my walking stick but don't think I held up anyone.  One gentleman had used two walking sticks but I don't think he had ever done such before so he was very un-practiced with two and was the slowest member of the group.  that's frustrating as well but as long as he felt like he was safe, he's still going and trying and I know that will be me some day so I try to be patient.

          Back in the boat and back downriver past the quarries and past the old fort and we stop at Bartica.  We have one member of the group who came to Guyana as a very young man (42 years ago) and taught English.  So he had been to Bartica before as well as Georgetown and was quite interested in seeing what has changed.  Bartica is a mining town.  It was dirty and trashy and fascinating.  My hubby does not always share my joy and amazement in places that look like they come from an apocalyptic movie set.  Eugene and our group guyr who'd been there before were telling us all about how the place used to have huge markets with tons of fruits and vegetables and fish to ship downriver.  The miners would come into town on their days off and the town would swell in size  for the day or weekend.   This day was rather quiet but there were some shops open, a small market open and a few restaurants where we could go in and get a drink.  We all ended up in the market where some of the ladies wanted to get bananas and other fruit.  There was a bowl of the tiny, very hot peppers that we associate with Thailand's hot food.  The woman selling the fruit challenged me to taste one when I commented on how hot it was.  She didn't think I would but I took a bite.  Yep, it was mighty hot but not too bad.  surprised the heck out of her though.  

          We didn't have very long there but went back to our boat and then back to Baganara.  Time for some lunch and then a nice nature walk in the jungle.  For some reason, this trip was more about trees and plants in the jungle and history on what the Amerindians had used for survival.  If you are wanting to see wildlife, you never go out in the heat of the day ,  You take an early morning hike, then eat breakfast, relax during the day, then go out at dusk.  But we never did that.  don't know why.  So we saw plants and trees and more trees and more plants and got explanations of them all.  it was very, very hot to me and this was after we had walked down to almost the end of the runway - in the broiling sun -  before we headed into the trees so I was hot and tired and exhausted halfway through the walk.  it is so much harder to stroll and stop and stand than it is to walk for awhile.  By the third tree, I probably wasn't paying much attention anymore but was more interested in when it would be finished.  We are finally done and I stagger back to the runway and back to the main lodge where I can get something cooler to drink and sit without moving for awhile.

          In the evening, we take off in an open topped boat (two boats) to see the parrots.  According to the write up, hundreds of parrots fly home to a small island to roost at night.  We get to the island and grab hold of some mangroves to hold us in position and wait.  We see some small blobs in the air which Eugene identifies as Amazon Green Parrots.  They fly over us and disappear into the trees of the island on the other side from where we are sitting.  A few more come and a few more but never hundreds.  We sit and sit and watch and watch and a magnificent sight just does not appear.  As a wondrous thing to view, it never materialized.  Just a few sets of birds coming - too high to see them well and too small and too many on the opposite side of the island from where we are.  Most of us were complaining about the lack of birds well before Eugene decided to leave.   We did see a nice sunset from the boat though, through the trees of the island.  And we went to the other side of the island where the birds were landing and were able to see a few more in the trees but it just wasn't very marvellous and was rather disappointing from what any of us expected.   We drop Eugene off at his resort again and then hit Baganara for our second night.

          Either the resort had run out of fuel for the generator or they decided that we should all experience a true jungle night or something because all the power went off so although we opened all our windows in the front and back of the room but there wasn't a cross breeze to be had.  We moved into separate beds, my husband and I, but it was still too hot and uncomfortable to sleep so it was  a miserable night compared to the night before.  Whew.  i never would have lasted in the jungle without A/C or fans or having enough money to hire someone to fan me all night!  

          

        

Georgetown and the Essequibo River

             Groups have their own dynamics.  They flow and ebb depending on the members and whether new members join, others leave, circumstances, etc.  So the last thing I want on a trip with total strangers is to be the last person joining the group.  The last one in is usually the hardest to assimilate because associations have already been formed, clicks made, friendships solidified (remember - this is a solidification for 10 days or so only), and passions shared.  As my husband and I were the last ones to get to the tour group and we didn't share the dinner on the previous night, we were left at breakfast the following morning by ourselves and had to guess which other people in the dining room might be members of our group.   In the end, it was fairly easy to determine who was part of the group as the tour leader ran from table to table checking on everyone to make sure they had all their "suitcases" in a row for pick-up and storage and small bags ready to go to the nature reserve.  

              Breakfast done - rather slow - but we had expected that having been warned that things happen at a much slower pace in these countries.  Head out to the hotel reception room and start introducing ourselves to people whom Chris (tour leader) has been running around gathering up into the group.  There are 16 of us, all from the U.S. or Canada.  We probably had to fly the furthest and some had gotten the impression that we were Brits - not just living in England, but once we opened our mouths, that notion was abandoned.   We are introduced to Eugene, a rather large local who will be our guide.  His voice is a large as he is so  he booms out when discussing anything making anyone standing in front of him sway in the breeze.   Plus he is as enthusiastic about his country as he is big so many of his lectures and comments are accompanied by loud guffaws and hilarious laughter and stamping his foot as he enjoys his own words and our reactions to his city and his country.  Sitting in the bus close to him was almost uncomfortable as his stamping shook those of us near to him.  But who better to share their country than someone who truly loves it.  Nothing boring about his talks and descriptions.

          We are all herded into the van and unfortunately, we are the last ones in so we are relegated to sitting in the front which has no leg room.  By the lunch break, my legs are screaming and Eugene's stamping is sending painful shock waves up my calves.  We never make this mistake again so it's only 1/2 day of torture.   The tour through the city is mainly a "bus tour" meaning we are seeing lots of good things but not getting off the bus/van to take photos or walk around.  I had suspected this might be the case when i read the itinerary and so wasn't too disappointed in it but I also happened to be on the wrong side of the bus for any meaningful photos but photos out the window of a car or bus are never very good - doesn't keep me from trying though.  

          We get out of the bus to go look at St. George's Cathedral - which Georgetown claims as the largest wooden church in the world.  It is huge.  It has flying buttresses!  No gargoyles though.  The church isn't in that good of shape. Some of the outer wooden siding shingles have been blown away or gone missing.  Inside, there are buckets placed strategically about the church to catch the roof leaks.  Still, it is a lovely church and it is indeed quite large.  We see some parishioners head into the back of the church - little old ladies barely able to walk but still manage to get to church. Inside is a lovely pipe organ.  Only a few people are there besides us.  

          We learn about Georgetown and Guyana's past.  It's been colonized by many and when the Dutch were here, they built wonderful canals to control the rains and dump the water into the sea during low tide.  There are locks and sluice gates to manage the waterways.  But after the Dutch left, some of the canals were paved over and planted as walkways for the city citizens to stroll and enjoy.  Sea walls had to be erected and maintained as the city is actually 6' below sea level.  Now during the rainy season, there is always flooding.  We saw many of the canals are overrun with water lilies and trash.  The worst thing about Georgetown and the surrounding countryside is no pick up of litter and trash and no re-cycling and no respect of the environment.  Many of the beautiful old colonial style houses are falling into disrepair.  Trash is everywhere and during the rains, it all washes into the sea or washes out and back into town.  Infrastructure is poor.  But the people are nice and lovely and kind whenever we had dealings with them so a bit of a dichotomy between how the people view and take care of themselves and how they view and take care of their lands and buildings.  

          We stopped by a craft market briefly.  Chris, our tour leader, has emphasized repeatedly already that it is not a shopping trip.  In fact, there are not many days when we have free time in a location where there would be any shops.  That's OK actually but I do like to have a bit of time to look around at the local markets and see what there is to be had and if there are new and different things to enjoy.  Having travelled so much in our lives, there's not really very much that we haven't seen and/or purchased.  With Globalization, there aren't a lot of things in whatever country we visit that are new and different.   Guyana is a diamond and gold producing country and I had truly hoped for a chance to see some of their gold and diamond jewelery but not today.

             We only had about 20 minutes to check out the 8 or so stalls, a lot of which had alligator-skinned bags and other leather products that most likely would not be allowed back into the U.S.   We did find a nice wooden bowl.  We have so many nice wooden bowls and nice vases from various places.  I think I need to dedicate a room in our retirement home just for the souvenirs we have from different countries.  We've been told already that our home is like a museum but I still love having all my gifts and souvenirs and 'finds" and "prizes" and "treasures' out where I can see and enjoy them.

          We are off again and round the corner and drive past the big market and DO NOT STOP!  OMG.  this one was certainly worth stopping.  It looked amazing with all the humanity and products and hustle and bustle and people shopping and wandering the stalls.  I love these kinds of markets.  The only problem with this one is that it was very, very trashy.  That made my husband quite nervous as if a trashy place is an unsafe place and dangerous place.  Maybe so in some countries but that appears to be the standard here so the market was not any worse than any market and keeping your wits about you would lead to a perfectly safe meander through the market.  BUT it was not to be.    

          Our next stop was the museum.  It was a good museum.  Small but very informative.  couldn't take photos inside though.  Located in a lovely old colonial building with the louvered windows to let in the maximum air flow and minimum streaming sunlight.  Some good handicrafts from the Amerindian tribes that once ruled the area.  And a good set of old photos of hunting and fishing with said Indians as well.   Then back on the bus and to the park for the zoo.   The zoo is small and like everything else, not in the best of shape, but they are proud of it and their collection.  Maybe 1/4 of the cages were empty and a few others rather difficult to see the animals but we had a great look at a harpy eagle enjoying its meal of something dead and red.  We tickled the tapir who came up to the fence for some head scratching.    The small ocelots paid us no mind and were more into their other caged buddies.    Various birds of various kinds, some foxes, some wild pigs, and a sleeping jaguar.  The manatee  was a no show.   There was a Tayra, a fruit eating member of the weasel family.  Never heard of it before and pretty sure haven't ever seen one.  So see - something new!  Couldn't get a good photo in spite of the fact that this guy was butting his head against the enclosure the whole time i was standing there.  

          There weren't a lot of people there besides us.  The park itself appears to be poplar enough that a few enterprising people come and sell balloons and trinkets for the kids out of their car trunks/boots.  As i passed one such vendor whose gig was taking photos of the kids and families yelled for me to take his photo.  So I did.  why not?  Nice to have a local want to have their photo taken without asking for money.

          Time to move on out of the city and head for our resort.   Stuck in a bit of a traffic jam as we need to cross the pontoon bridge over the river.  It's quite long and slow to get across but we finally make it and hit the docks where we will go upriver to Baganara Resort for two nights.  Baganara is a privately owned island in the Essequibo River.  it has been in this family's possession for a very long time.  The current owner lives in Toronto and comes down with his mother who is 92.  The mother was a young girl when the family got the island, from what I understood.  The Essequibo River is quite wide and has hundreds of islands in it.  The family that owns Baganara also owns several of the islands  around them because they didn't want noisy neighbors.  Solution - buy up all the property around you!   The Essequibo is the largest in Guyana and comes third or fourth after the Amazon.  As we travel up the river, there are small houses and landings and clearings in the jungle.  Sometimes there are people fishing and sometimes boats and sometimes people waving.  No other way to get to these locations other than flying.  Baganara has an airstrip and we will leave by plane but arriving by river was lovely.  

          Finally we arrive and are greeted with a nice drink and the owner.  Chris gets our room assignments and most of us are in the house that is about 1/2 km away from the main house - on the way to the airstrip.  The resort runs on solar power with a generator for when the sun is hiding in the rain clouds.  Eighteen staff live on this island to maintain it and take care of the guests.  We are the only guests for our two nights.  There is swimming and kayaking and walking in the woods on the island and relaxing.  We choose relaxing as it is so calm and peaceful there.  And as it is rather late in the afternoon, dinner comes soon and then we walk back in the dark to our room for a peaceful night.  The generator is running and we have a ceiling fan and a floor fan so we are comfortable and have a good night's sleep.