British Tourists take in the beauty of Guyana

By Kerry Nicholas

THIS is a three part series chronicling the experience of two British Tourists as they encountered a new culture, new sights and certainly a whole new adventure in Guyana.

We arrived in Guyana from the morning ferry across the Corentyne River to Moleson Creek from Nickerie in Suriname.  We were eager to discover all that Guyana has to offer. I was brimming with questions.  I entered into a conversation with my fellow passenger, Colin on the bus to Georgetown.

“So are there places to visit between here and Georgetown?” I asked.

“Well this is Region Six,” he gestured out the window of the minibus as it sped along.  “It goes all the way south to Brazil.” He was trying to be helpful but I was already confused. “What happens in Region Six?”

“Difficult to know what happens down there,” he said, waving to his left. “There aren’t any roads,  just trees. People in Guyana like to live here on the coast.”

I looked out of the bus window for a glimpse of the coast. We saw a large sign to No. 63 Beach but we did not stop.  I was told it was a huge expanse of flat grey sand that nobody on the bus had visited.  David and I love beaches, but this description did not entice us in the same way that the palm fringed white sand beaches of Brazil had earlier in our travels.

The bus sped across the top of Region Five. We passed rice mills, sugar cane estates and coconut plantations, tractor and machinery stores. I was amazed to find out that it was not sand spread on the road right beside the vehicles, but rice drying in the sun! Using the road for anything but vehicles is illegal in the UK. And anyway, cars would drive over it straight away. It would be ruined in no time. In Guyana it would seem to me that the drivers show a respect for the farmers who share their road. They are the same with their loose animals. Horses with foals and goats with kids just nibbled the grass verges inches from the bus. Donkeys and chickens scooted across the road on a whim. Cattle took their time, chewing the cud and drumming their tails against car bumpers nonchalantly.

But there was still no glimpse of the Atlantic.  My first clue to why was the sun-bleached Government posters reminding us all of the importance of the mangroves in protecting the coast from erosion.  The second clue was that many of the houses – even some vast properties with ornate fencing and magnificent curling staircases – were built on high stilts.  Huge properties defying gravity were suspended in the air.  I was shocked to find out that the coastal plain stretching east to west was mostly below sea level.  Even Georgetown had to keep the sea locked behind concrete walls. I wondered whether houses continued to be built on pillars because of a real fear that the sea wall would fail, or whether it was simply an enduring attractive architectural style.

So that explains why Guyana is not blessed with the kind of magnificent coastlines which have tourists flying into Brazil and the islands of the Caribbean just a short hop north. It seems ironic that the white sands of Guyana’s hinterland are exported to beautify so many Caribbean beaches.

We continued into Georgetown.  We chose to stay in the SleepIn Guest House on Church Street because it was central.  That evening, we shared a flavoursome but bony duck curry in a strange ornate triple counter restaurant with a shop piled high with exotic pastries in plastic containers that surely would still be on the shelves for sale the next day. David felt his tooth crack on a duck bone. We called it a night.

Being independent travelers on a budget, our finances do not stretch up to the top hotels or those featured in tourist packages, so we looked in the Classified ads in the Guyana Chronicle and were delighted when we found an apartment in Craig Street we could rent for US$45 per night. It was newly decorated, had a new fridge, large shower and great air conditioning in the bedroom. We expected to stay a couple of nights before deciding where to travel next.

We ended up staying six nights. That’s how long it took us to plan our next destination.

Accepting that the coast was not for tourists, we focused on the rainforests of the interior. A very helpful Kenneth from Wilderness Explorers was extremely enlightening. He patiently picked through all his tours for me to conclude dejectedly just how expensive it was going to be to see the sights of Guyana. I could sense he knew he wasn’t going to get a sale from me, so he and his friendly staff gave two recommendations for dentists. Invaluable!  David made an appointment to see one of them at 09:00hrs the next morning.

We continued our research. Other travel agents had ominously similar prices. How about Guyana’s Number one tourist attraction, Kaieteur Falls? Or Guyana’s flagship environmental project at Iwokrama, for example. Surely there must be public buses?

We headed for the bus terminal at Stabroek for information.  Our senses were assaulted by the sheer frenzy of noise and movement, street food mingling with open stagnant canals. Intertwined bumper-to-bumper numbered minibuses vied with hooting taxis for our attention. The minibuses were numbered but what was ‘C’ville and who was ‘Kitty’? We searched for an information office. How about a bus route map? A poster even?  But there was not even a bus stop. Just hundreds of minibuses squeezing and beeping in front of the Stabroek Market.

In desperation, we found a nattily-dressed taxi driver – Andre – who, after accepting that we weren’t going to get in his cab that day, had the patience to explain with a warm Guyanese smile.

“Locals get to learn the numbers and the routes as they need them, but tourists… well they take a taxi from outside their hotel” he grinned, “That’s how it works.”

We persevered.  Surely there must be a cheaper way to get to a resort like Splashmins or Arrowpoint than with a tour operator?

He shook his head as if we’d asked to get a bus to the lost city of El Dorado.

“How about Bartica? That’s a mining town, not a tourist destination,” I added hopefully. Andre waved towards the Stabroek clock  and laughed. “You want to go to Region Seven…? Ok, the 32 bus goes as far as Parika then you get a boat.”

We asked about Iwokrama. “The 43 takes you on the Lethem Road but only as far as Linden. No other buses after that.”

Then he waved his arm nonchalantly in a third direction “Oh there’s a bus to Lethem that leaves from a different place – over that way.” David unfolded our map of the country and hunted. “Sorry how do you spell er… Lettem?”

“So,” Andre smiled warmly, his gold teeth sparkling, and flicked the map over to the Georgetown side. “How about I show you the sights of the city?”

We asked The Guyana Tourism Authority. The girl on reception tried to be helpful. “Be careful. Sometimes, these unofficial people try to overcharge you too much,” she said.

I held up a tour leaflet, pointed to the price and smiled sweetly: “So is it better to be officially overcharged instead?” It was clear I was starting to lose patience.
She went to get her Manager.

Kumrul confirmed that the public bus to the interior was actually a choice of two or three private bus companies which went from Georgetown to Lethem, all leaving about 5.30pm.
“But why do they all leave at the same time?” I whined.
“Because that is the time Guyanese people want to go”
That shut me up.
He hesitated. “They stop overnight on the side of the road and wait for the first ferry at Kurupukari River Crossing at 06:00hrs. You could ask to be dropped off by the turning for Iwokrama. But that’s just after the crossing so you have to wait until morning. It’s kind of adventurous” he added.

We decided to visit Iwokrama’s Head Office in 71 High Street. How about the bus coming the other way?  With patience and charm and a sparkling smile, Chauncy McCalmon confirmed our worst fears.  The buses from Lethem left in the evening and stopped outside the park overnight too. I explained to Chauncey that as a tourist, I would have wanted to travel during the day and get over the river before the ferry stops running or into the Iwokrama Centre before dusk.

“People don’t want to do that,” she explained. “It’s too hot in the day. And it’s a long bus journey. They need to stop overnight.”
Fair enough.
Three visits to Chauncy, five visits to Java coffee shop (free wifi) and three days later, we had a plan: We would fly to Lethem and take the bus back to Georgetown. On the way down, we would stop off at Iwokrama.

Join us next week to find out if Kerry and David finally made it to Iwokrama and how they managed to get to other destinations within this magical new place they had come to encounter, called Guyana!