Shopping in Suriname

Shopping in Suriname, for groceries, souvenirs or whatever, is quite an experience. First of all, every little shop that carries any food products at all calls itself a supermarket. So there are lots of supermarkets listed that are no more than your typical mom and pop corner store. If the floor space is large, they call it a warehouse, even if the shelves are not stocked. It took us awhile to find Tulip, a bona fide first-world kind of supermarket for stocking the larder. The prices are relatively high here since most everything is imported from the States or Europe (Holland). I was amazed at the number of American products on the shelves … from Celestial Seasonings teas to Skippy peanut butter to Campbell's Chunky Soups and Velveeta cheese (really?). There was a rather large display of Old El Paso Mexican products and Pillsbury dominated the cake mix section. Even Newman's Own products have made it to Suriname. Lay's potato chips were available in mouth-watering flavors such as bolognese and paprika.

We were shopping for basics … canned tuna, rice, pasta and looking for exotics like Surinamese coffee or local specialty items. The only Surinamese products we saw were Parbo beer, Borgoe rum and Paloma rice. Rice is obviously a starch staple here, available in sizes from 1 kg to 50 kg. We'd already tried Parbo beer, but bought some rum and rice to support the local economy.

The selection of fresh produce was not impressive. The lettuce and grapes looked pitiful. Of course, they'd come all the way from California, so what can you expect? Nothing looked appealing. We'd rely on the Central market and roadside stands for our freshies.

We were a bit surprised at the check-out when we found that credit cards were not accepted here either. Once again, only cash. We had enough on hand, but really, trading in cash is mighty cumbersome.

We headed back downtown to the Central Market area. Along the road, several vendors had set up shop and were offering crops from their gardens. Melons seemed to be in season.

There were also several flea markets going on and business was brisk.

The Central Market was a bit of a disappointment. Not because of the quality, but rather the selection. The locals obviously sell what they grow and root vegetables and leaf vegetables seemed to be the prevalent offerings. Manioc and starchy tubers are not on our best buy veggies list. We gave them a pass. Little Surinam bananas were tasty and we picked up a watermelon. Hardly enough for a couple of days.

We wandered through a couple of souvenir shops that offered local Maroon carvings, baskets and all-things-marked-Surinam imported from China.

Fashion ranges from fancy Indian saris to high end men's shops to sportswear in Suriname's national colors of green, red, yellow and white.

The American influence is so noticeable, it's embarrassing ... from Angry Bird and Mickey Mouse to neon lighted Coke signs. We heard American music (old stuff, not current … think Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass). We saw old sit-coms and soaps and sports events on the flat screen TVs in restaurants.

Walking in Paramaribo is challenge. Where there are sidewalks, there are usually cars parked unless the sidewalks are in too bad a shape in which case they're left to the pedestrians.

We managed to get what we needed other than freshies. We'll ferret out some other options or settle short term for the tinned veggies we have aboard. As always, shopping is an adventure in and of itself.

Dutch word for the day - winkel - shop or store

Bird Singing - Parbo's Unusual Pastime

It's early... just before 7am on Sunday morning and the coolest it will be all day in Paramaribo. Church bells chime in the distance. The grass on Independence Square glistens, still wet with dew. The Presidential Palace and the clock tower of the Ministry of Finance building stand as prominent sentries overlooking the park. Men begin arriving on foot, in cars, trucks, SUVs, vans, HumVees, motorcycles, and mopeds. They're well-dressed businessmen in casual clothes or burly, tough-looking guys with scruffy t-shirts and their baseball hats on backwards or just regular looking fellows … all with one thing in common … they're all carrying little birds in cages. We rose extra early to be here to witness Paramaribo's most unusual pastime … a bird singing competition.

We'd noticed that men regularly walk around with their caged birds. Bird cages frequently hang outside shops and a birdseed stall was always busy in the fresh market. We didn't realize it was quite as competitive as it is. We were unable to ascertain the origins of the bird-singing competition or why it has become so popular in Suriname. Some say it was brought to Suriname in the early 20th century by Chinese immigrants; others say it comes from the jungle. We were told that similar competitions occur in Belgium. The formal contests here were established in the 1950s. There is now a league of 17 bird-singing clubs in the Paramaribo area and they all compete regularly.

This is a man's sport; few women participate. In some places, guys get up early to go fishing or to play golf. Here in Paramaribo, they display their birds and coax them to sing. We'd read about the competitions, but found it hard to gather specific information. After milling around a bit and asking questions of other onlookers, we found out that today was not an actual competition. It was a training session, but we were content to watch anyway.

Men of the Suriname Whistling Birds' League greeted each other cordially as they walked onto the green and chose places to stick in stakes that would support the bird cages. Some men had one bird; others had two or three. They hung the cages near other birds and the birdsong became increasingly louder. It's a territorial thing. Sometimes they use a favorite female to get the males in the mood.

Have a listen...

Though it wasn't a competition day, I researched what a contest entailed. It involves birds competing in pairs to see which can sing the most melodies in 15 minutes. A "melody" is a sequence that includes at least two tones. Two bird cages are placed 18” apart in the middle of the green. Next to each cage stands a referee at a chalkboard . The clock starts and the referees lean in to concentrate on the birds' songs. What sounds to the untrained ear like twittering is in actuality, a series of well-defined songs. Every few seconds a stroke is added to the tally as each referee identifies a melody. In an average round, we're told a good bird will sing between 100 to 115 melodies.

Most of the birds come from the rain forests, purchased from AmerIndians or captured by the trainers themselves. The competing birds are all male. Their owners work diligently to teach them new, complex songs. Teaching is done by whistling new songs to the birds, an arduous process that requires at least two hours of daily effort.. The owners constantly play CDs for their songbirds to aid in the learning process. The tiny black picolet or the twatwa, a canary-size brown bird, are typical choices and they can be sold for as much as $3,000 each.

After an hour or so, the men collected their birds and began to wander off. We went searching for a cup of coffee. Enough excitement for a Sunday morning in Paramaribo.

Dutch word for the day – vogelgezang – birdsong

Moored in the Suriname River

Once again, we're up a muddy, brown river hanging on a mooring, watching the tide do its thing with great enthusiasm as we tackle our chore list. Each river seems to have its own unique feel. Though the river here is narrower than our anchorage on the Maroni, it seems calmer and a bit less turbulent even at the height of the flood tide. The breeze is certainly better here. It's cooler… no Edith Cavell wreck to block the wind. The wind gen and solar panels are always churning out power. We've had no need to start the engine since we arrived.

Not far from us on shore is a busy water taxi stand. From dawn till dusk, folks are ferried up and down the river regularly to little AmerIndian villages along the riverside. They look similar to the dugout canoes called pirogues in French Guiana. The prows are different. I asked if they were called pirogues here as well, and they're not. “So what then?”, I queried. “They call them boats”, was the response. I found out later that the AmerIndians call them corials or korjaal.

It's not nearly as busy here as St. Laurent though and the mornings are typically calm and quiet. Sometimes on the weekends, there are fancier, two-decker corials that bring tourists up the river for a tour.

The boats typically stop at the little Domburg dock for a quick look-around and snack at the Javanese warungs (food stalls) in the little square next to the marina restaurant. Quiet during the week, the place is jumping with tourists and local families on the weekends.

We usually head into the little marina restaurant, the River Breeze, twice a day. In the morning, it's a quick check on the Internet for e-mails and posting the blog. In the early evenings, after the workday is finished, we return for showers, more Internet, a shared djogo of cold Parbo beer and a get-together with other cruisers. Currently, there are Canadians, Brazilians, Argentinians, Austrians, Italians and Germans here plus an American family from Seattle that just arrived from Brazil this morning.

In the early mornings, it's been very foggy … the pea soup variety. We can sometimes hear the leonine roars of the howler monkeys in the jungle in competition with dogs barking on shore. Kiskadees still provide the key melody to morning bird song. Tiny welcome swallows flit around and frequently land on our solar panels or lifelines. At night, when the birds sleep, we hear the flutter and whoosh of bat's wings. A bat flew in through the forward hatch the other night, giving us an adrenaline rush. We could feel him and hear him more than actually see him. He was like a wraith as he whizzed back and forth and finally, thank goodness, found his way out through the aft hatch. We thought this was very unusual, but talking with other yachties, it happens quite frequently here.

Thanks to the bats, there are amazingly few bugs or mosquitoes around. We see butterflies and bees during the day that check out the boat before continuing on their way up the river, but that's about it. The only nuisance is the disturbingly loud drone of jet-skis that come out in swarms on the weekends, churning up the river water as they race around the moored boats.

Logs and debris float by regularly with the turn of the tide. We're told that folks clearing land up river, dump all the tree trunks and cleared shrubs into the river, so they don't have to cart it away. One sailboat anchored near us was unable to raise his anchor when it came time to move. Closer inspection indicated about 50 meters of anchor chain wrapped around a huge, water-sodden log. It took the crew the better part of two days to unravel the mess and break free.

We watched a good-sized powerboat sink near shore over several days with apparently no intervention by locals or the owner. We noted that his stern seemed to be particularly low in the water one evening … perhaps his stern line was too tight? The next morning only his bow remained above water. We reported it at the marina, but after two days, still no action was taken. Some fellows took a look at it, but we think they're perplexed as to what to do. They have limited funds and limited equipment with which to work.

We're trying to finish up chores in order to get on with our passage through the Guianas and then on to Trinidad for a haul-out. David sands or varnishes whenever possible. It's so dewy in the mornings, it's hard to get an early start and it appears the rainy season has begun. After a couple of days of dry weather when we first arrived, we now have showers and heavy downpours nearly every afternoon making varnishing a challenge. It might have to wait. There's plenty more to do, however. He's replaced the cockpit GPS with a spare. The whisker pole track and a new solenoid switch for the stove are still on the “to-do” list. And, of course, there's more to see in Suriname before we depart. Never enough time!

Today's Dutch word – ankerplaats - anchorage