The music sounded traditional and festive. Although we were one block away, pedaling in Paramaribo's streets, we could hear the brass, the keyboard and the drums. Like ants to sugar, we were drawn. A few feet off the road was a plain white building from which the music emanated. Dismounting, we inched inwards quite unprepared for what we would see. Inside was ablaze with colourslike the rainbow had descended here. The rainbow swayed to the beat and danced around. Then, a part of the rainbow dislodged itself and danced over to us. A human shape with a head, face and a [View Full Entry]

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We felt giddy. Kinda High. And there seemed to be no escape. We had never smoked so much second-hand marijuana in our lives. Saramacca street at 7:00 a.m. was no place for non-smokers to be but it was the bus stop for public transportation to Brownsberg Nature Reserve. Tante 'Wee Nah' had, the night before insisted that we take a taxi to the stop. We were prepared to make the 35-minute early-morning walk with very heavy backpacks - the cheapskates we were. She paid for it too and we pretended to resist the 'luxury'. We had, for two days, been putting [View Full Entry]

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'Fawaka'. The voice was surprisingly pleasant. It belonged to a rough-looking immigration officer at the South Drain Ferry Terminal in Suriname. He had just 'helloed' us in the local language called 'Sranang Tongo' or 'Taki Taki' before stamping our passports. A few minutes ago we had departed from Guyana and crossed the Corentyne River. The ferry building looked the same like the one across the water and the customs clearance was the same lengthy, tedious drill just like the one across the water. Outside the terminal, there were only three buses and it was then that we'd understand [View Full Entry]

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Stats and Thanks We've been on the road for a little over a month-and-a-half and most of you have been right there with us. We appreciate it. We've had steady comments from Joan in Trinidad, Shana from Mexico, Tyrone from England, Sacha from Aruba, -G- from Curacao, Nadia from Antigua, Annelies from Holland and Robert from Guyana. Remember we thrive on comments, so keep them coming! Again, we can't individually respond to and thank everybody so please accept this mass 'thanks'. Five destinations and 19 blogs later, here are some stats of your visits to our site: - [View Full Entry]

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'This road is called Abortion Road', Chico said. Chico was our guide. He was a funny man in the humorous sense of the word. We laughed. We had just come from the city, up the East Bank road and were now, fifteen of us, on the bumpy, red-sand road which circumnavigated the Timehri airport. A boy in army fatigues with a gun half his height flung the gate open and, just like that, without any security check or verification we entered the headquarters of the Guyana Army Air Corp. It was Robert's 33rd birthday and so the 'fossil' and his wife, [View Full Entry]

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We must have been flying over Guyana's massive land mass for quite some time but we didn't know a thing. You see, it was about 7pm and almost dark and, to make matters worse, we were sandwiched between two layers of clouds. When the doors of LIAT opened we gladly accepted our 'Welcome to Guyana' from an ancient lightbox just in front of the entrance to immigration. Customs allowed us to pass check-free with nine pieces of overweight luggage and Vibert Sr. (Pops) was patiently waiting for us. After hugs and greetings and in an overloaded car with an open-and-tied-down trunk, [View Full Entry]

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We arrived to fine weather. From above we could see the turquiose waters lapping the white sand shoreline and palm trees swaying in the breeze. The passengers chattered excitedly and the air hostess welcomed us to Aruba. After reporting a damaged bag to JetBlue customer service, we exited to find Tanta Henna waiting for us. We hugged. And then, a little head appeared thru the back window of her car. Panic was jumping up and down with excitement wagging his little stumpy tail. We hugged again and then headed home. Oom (uncle) Jean, Tashi (Shanna's 10-year old cousin) and Tanta Henna's [View Full Entry]

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This time we rode the subway like veteran New Yorkers; stone-faced and all. We had a good time in Atlanta and now, back in NY, we had 1 day to burn before leaving for Aruba. With not a lot of 'touristy' things left to do or see in Manhattan, we decided to go visit Vibert's aunt in New Jersey. Penn Station was bristling with activity being a major transit point. Amtrak, the PATH Train, subways and the New jersey Transit trains all converged there. We took the 10:35 NJT first to Newark/Broadstreet and then connected to the South Orange stop. The [View Full Entry]

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We boarded the G train from Nostrand and Bedford, transferred to the A line at Hoyt and rode it one stop to Jay Street. Then we hopped on the F train and stayed on thru Manhattan and then over into Queens. At Roosevelt Avenue, we jumped on the Q33 bus which took us straight into La Guardia airport. It was Sunday, June 3 and we were headed to Atlanta. The barebones AA flight was boring and we slept thru the entire two-hour journey. Aaaaaah. ATL, ATL. We had been there before. Back in 2005. And we loved it then. We landed [View Full Entry]

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No one was at the Jetblue check-in counter when Sacha dropped us off in her shiny wine-colored Tucson. We had just spent two days in Aruba (more about that in another blog) and now we were headed to New York. Yeahhhh, the Big Apple. Check in went well and we proceeded to immigration. Reina Beatrix International has a US-approved and staffed immigration section and it was here that things fell apart. We approached the sour-looking lady in the cubicle for the usual, dehumanizing fingerprinting and mug shots. The lady asked Shanna why she had written out of Curacao. "Because I am [View Full Entry]

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