St Laurent de Maroni, French Guiana
18 July 2016
Saint Laurent de Maroni is a border town between French Guiana and Surinam (opposite Albina in Surinam). It was formerly the arrival point for prisoners who arrived at the Camp de la Transportation, many destined for Isle du Salut. The convicts provided a free workforce and built the official buildings starting, of course, with the jail. Dotted through the melange of architecture the old buildings are a mix of fading colonial grandeur and functional penitentiary style. Fortunately drainage systems were part of the overall plans and mosquitos are few in number.
The importance is highlighted as there’s no shortage of rain. Temperatures increase from sunrise until the blackness of mid-afternoon thunder clouds encroach. Water catching isn’t difficult with tanks filled in a few hours. The wetness and humidity doesn’t do much for inhibiting mouldiness unfortunately so tried and tested methods of de-moulding are back. Nevertheless, the decks are shiny and salt-free. All winches, furlers, ropes and blocks are thoroughly flushed with copious quantities of fresh water so all is good on board.
With the return to French Overseas Territories comes the joys of baguettes, rather nice cheese and of course, Bonne Maman jam, reasonably priced red wine plus internet coverage that is largely uninterrupted…or at least that’s the theory. The daily thunderstorms and vast quantities of rain water do occasionally impact on the availability of connectivity. However nothing electronic has been destroyed in its safe place - the oven - yet.
Local ferries or pirogues transport people the short distance across the river, to and from Surinam, usually without the cumbersome administrative processes that are incurred in cross border movement (which we in the UK may well soon come to know and love once again….). The French/English dictionary has become an important accompaniment to forays ashore. Portuguese has been forgotten (although never terribly well established it has to be said) yet Spanish is still flowing with our neighbours, Rusalka of the Seas (actually their English is amazing and our gesture language has improved marginally). It does seem that although our confidence in French is greater than our competence we are able to accomplish the basics - i.e. purchase the previously mentioned lovely French comestibles.
The anchorage is well protected by an interesting array of semi-sunken wrecks, slowly evolving into complete ecosystems with the range of tall tree canopy and shade inhabiting plants. The ‘whoop-de-do’ bird makes itself known with its distinctive call but sadly it has remained elusive so its true identity is still something of a mystery.
Arriving the day before Bastille Day, celebration preparations were underway. Gazebos housing the South American traditions of loud music and party time cluttered the shores while the booming base reverberated through the boat. The next day more sombre reflections took place with flags hung at half mast while the French Forces paraded, remembering the terrible carnage at Nice.
Ominous clouds are gathering so it is time to post this blog before we get wind battered, washed away or zapped.