Getting from the 5K race finish line in Speightstown, Barbados
to my hotel in Paramaribo, Suriname actually went well. The taxi ride, covering nearly the entire north-to-south
length of Barbados at sunset, was beautiful - and the slow, friendly pace of
driving was a pleasant contrast to the mean streets of my home, Las
Vegas. My flights from
Barbados to Port-of-Spain to Paramaribo, both had welcomed early departures and early arrivals. My time in the airports was only remarkable for
a single proud moment. As I went through
security re-screening while in transit in Trinidad, I quickly and efficiently
went through the typical process of partial undressing/unpacking prior to passing myself and my bag through x-ray scanners. But as I approached the metal detector, one of the four persons on the security detail, flashed me an unapproving look, pointed to my pocket and asked, “What is in there?" I replied, “Just my
passport”. While the others looked as if they were about to break into applause to reward her for her attention to the detail of my bulging pants pocket, she came back with a skeptical, “That is all?” All of their faces turned to the puzzled expressions of children who has just seen a magician pull a rabbit
out his hat for the first time when I reached into my pocket and pulled out nothing, but my prized possession - a blue passport that has so many added pages that it acts as if it is held together my a spring-loaded hinge. I somewhat triumphantly replied, “Yep, just
my passport.”
Once in Suriname (arriving at 1 AM), I was one of only two passengers, who
needed to purchase a visa. This wasn’t a particularly difficult process, but it did involve handing over $25 USD – of
which three bills were rejected for folds, writing and/or tears - and meant that I reached the immigration line well after everyone else had left. This was fortunate because for some reason, it took the involvement of all three immigration officials on-duty and over 10 minutes before my passport was stamped and I was waived through with a smile, but no explanation for the delay.
After a 45 minute taxi ride to the city, I climbed out of the cab and was relieved to see a beautiful hotel façade in a quiet residential area. That was followed by an immediate sinking feeling that my luck was about to turn
when I noted that the building was particularly dark and there was a padlock on the front gate. As the taxi driver started to drive off there was a short pause, and you could tell he was thinking - “I should
probably help, but if I stop now who knows when I’ll get home and it’s already
2:30 AM”... and he drove off.
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