Last week in Suriname, we're off (the internet isn't great, so not everything works yet)

Early in the morning on 1 January we weigh anchor and head for the Commewijne River. It starts where it joins the mouth of the Suriname River in the north of the country and winds its way east. Halfway along, a branch splits off to the north as the Cottica. We spend the first night at anchor just past the fork. There are plantations on both banks, though you can’t see much of them because of all the vegetation along the water. We try out our new outboard by running up a creek that Merrimac can’t get into because of some high-voltage power lines. This motor is considerably faster, so we’re there in no time.

The new little motor works a treat

The next day we carry on up the Cottica, but call it a day around midday. The scenery doesn’t vary much and by now looks a lot like the Upper Suriname area where we were with the kids. We pass a small tributary, the Perica, and turn in to find an anchorage. There’s a tree growing right in the middle of the water, so it’s not likely to be crowded.

It’s a lovely quiet spot, with a nice breeze now and then, and we enjoy the peace and our books.

There’s total silence apart from the occasional bird call. But as evening falls, it begins. Under the inspired direction of the moon, waving its baton like a passionate Haitink, and accompanied by the basso continuo of chirping from all kinds of crickets, the various animals of the jungle around us make themselves heard one by one, as in Ravel’s Boléro. The difference being that it starts with the loudest birds and ends at dawn with the sweetest song. By then the basso continuo has died down and only the night owls are still going. Besides birds we hear howler monkeys, snakes and owls, and unfortunately I don’t know much about the local fauna, so I can only guess. I’ve recorded some of the sounds, so maybe someone can help me out.

The next day we head back west. Gea, someone I know from tennis, had given me the name of a plantation her employer recently bought and renovated, where you can also eat very well. We can anchor off Frederiksdorp and take the dinghy ashore. When I message her that we’ve arrived, Gea texts back that Marcy is there too. Right at that moment a Dutch lady sitting on the terrace speaks to us, but she’s a little way off, so she walks over so we don’t have to shout. She introduces herself: Marcy! “Gea says hi,” I tell her, and we hit it off immediately, and that evening the djogos, the big bottles of Parbo beer, are flying across the table. As if we’d known each other for years. What a lot of chatter. Luckily one of her staff, Clive, joins us too, so Kees has someone to have a normal conversation with. The resort is beautiful, so highly recommended if you’re going to Suriname.

Back in Domburg we have a fun and delicious New Year’s barbecue. On Sunday we take it easy, pick up satay and vegetables at the little local Sunday market and eat on board.

Monday, our last day in Suriname. We drive to the MP to get our passports stamped and, because I’d always wanted to see it, we walk to the Koto Museum. The owner gives us a tour and can tell us a lot about this Creole costume. We have some lovely conversations.

We have roti for lunch from the local fast-food chain, and I still wanted to go to the hairdresser. When the first one turns out to do only braiding, we spot another hairdresser on a corner. This one also seems to do only braiding, but I ask anyway. Oh yes, cutting is fine too. We discuss how much I want off, I show her a photo of a style I liked, and just to be sure she asks: “So you want it pruned?” I look at her in alarm, but she translates for me: cut. When I confirm, she comes over with a pair of kitchen scissors and starts snipping off chunks of hair at the length we’d agreed. A few snips later she’s gone all the way round, takes a step back to check it’s straight and declares it done. There are some French people having their curly hair styled who say it looks fine, so I just accept it; it is indeed fine, and I’m not going to a party. Ella had also offered to take a bit off with the kitchen scissors, so that would have done just as well. All I could really do was laugh, because at least it’s a lot shorter and it doesn’t look odd.

In the evening we have drinks and dinner with a few people at the marina and say goodbye for now; who knows, we may run into each other again somewhere along the way.

This morning at 7 o’clock, with the sun just coming up behind the trees, we weighed anchor and we’re now heading out to the ocean. We’ll miss Suriname, but we’re also curious about new places! Bound for Grenada.

You can follow us on the tracker again, and I’m going to post this quickly before I lose signal.