walking tours of Georgetown

On Sunday, we decided to try out a walking tour provided by a company called Provotique Walking Tours. Our tour guide was the lovely Ruqayyah Boyer who is Guyana's own beauty pageant queen. She not only told us stories about the buildings and landmarks downtown, but she would also occasionally break out in song.  She was like a real life Disney princess.

Our sweet tour guide

On particular thing that I appreciated was having two police officers personally guard our walking tour, because robbery is quite a problem in Guyana. This meant I was finally able to take photos around town while feeling safe from potential muggers. So here you are - actual photos of Georgetown!

The Archbishop's residence

Bank of Guyana and War Memorial

City Engineers Department

City Hall - Ruqayyah commented that it kind of looks like a Disney castle

the sewage drains that run along the streets of Guyana

The electoral offices - often the site of violence during election times in the past

The courts, with a statue of Queen Victoria

Parliament

President's residence (that rhymes!)

Prime Minister's place

St. Andrew's Kirk

St. George's cathedral, one of the largest wooden churches in the world

Old train station, from when Guyana used to have trains

Yoga centre...lots of folks of Indian descent here

oh hay!

Liming at the Seawall

Guyana has this lovely tradition here where people go liming at the Seawall on Sunday evenings.  Friends and families and lovers hang out over a couple of drinks at the long stretch of sea wall that the Dutch had built to keep out the Atlantic Ocean. Vendors sell beer, nuts and other snacks, and there are fun activities to keep kids entertained too, including trampolines and a guy in what looks like a really hot Mickey Mouse costume that you can get your photo taken with for a fee. I can't imagine wearing that in this weather.

 

 

It provides a lovely view of the sun setting into the ocean, but folks hang out long after sunset, especially to snuggle with their loved ones.

It's not always the safest place for foreigners, especially after dark, but it was fun for us to check out while there was still some daylight.  Also, to awkwardly pose for those stereotypical beach photos that North Americans always expect from the Caribbean.

 

 

Birds!

a day in the life

(a snapshot of what my days in Georgetown have been like, lately)

Today is the day I decided I'm going to try wearing my hair down today. It's been really hot lately so I've been piling my hair on top of my head in a high ponytail or bun so that my hair wouldn't stick to the back of my sweaty neck, but on this particular day I had a lot of meetings planned, so I reasoned that I would be able to stay cool inside. Time to let my hair down.

I would quickly learn to regret this decision.

I called for cab. The cab did not have air conditioning. On the way to work, I saw a cow hanging out by the road and I wondered who the cow belonged to and why it was there. It wasn't usually there.

At my first stop, I sank down at my desk with a great sigh of relief because the air conditioner was on full blast. It was so cool, I could have a nice warm cup of Jamaican sorrel tea. I love tea, but usually the weather is too hot to enjoy it.

A colleague came into the office and announced that she had found bees.

Bees?

Well, I guess I could be okay with bees, I thought, as long as they're not Africanized bees. I had read some articles in the newspaper lately about horrible attacks in Guyana by swarms of Africanized bees, some leading to horrible deaths, and quite frankly, that was a little scary to think about.

They're African bees, the colleague announced as she returned back into the room.

A company would be called to smoke them out. Meanwhile, I decided to get myself out of there fast.

I headed over to my next scheduled event, a Jubilee celebration held by a few government ministries and the Women and Gender Equality Commission to honour the women in history who had made great contributions to Guyana. It was held at the majestic Arthur Chung Conference Centre which, surprisingly despite the lavish decor of its facade, was not air conditioned because it had an open air concept. This is a concept that Canada doesn't really have, except maybe the TTC station entrances that lead underground which are always a slushy mess in the winter. I tried to sweep my hair aside to look like less of a sweaty disaster, and wondered how all the other women in the room managed to look so cool and dignified. Inspired by the speeches, I got what I needed at the event and headed off to my next destination.

My next task was to navigate my way through the bustle of the magistrates' courts.  There was an argument happening at the front gate with some folks on the street and the court guards. I tried to hurry past, but a well-dressed woman stopped me outside.

"Do you think you could get me a job at your work?" she asked me.

I blinked in surprise. "Canada's pretty cold in the winter, you know," I blurted out, my mind still on the slushly TTC subway stations.

Her face fell in disappointment. She had meant the Canadian High Commission in Guyana, which was considerably warmer than Canada, and also a place that I didn't work for.

Surprisingly, the magistrates' courts were air-conditioned, and had a great air of solemnity and dignity.  Unfortunately, it was right in there that I had an asthma-triggered coughing fit, removing much of the solemnity and dignity in the room. I thought I would die of embarrassment.

I stopped for lunch at one of my favourite snack joints, a Rastafarian place called House of Flavours serving ital food. The food is cheap and fantastic, although I usually prefer to get it as a take away and eat it elsewhere. Inside the place, it was not air-conditioned, of course, and mosquitoes nibbled at my ankles while Rastafarians hung out, watching gory kung fu movies on the tiny TV above the fridge. I felt like I was intruding. But the meal was delicious. House of Flavours is the reason why I will not be getting scurvy, because I pretty much don't eat vegetables otherwise.

After my meal, I reluctantly headed back out into the blazing hot sun. I have almost grown accustomed to sweating in the business suits that I have to wear to match the business formal dress culture of Guyana, but really, this whole wearing my hair down thing was a mess. I walked in a couple of unproductive circles, trying to find the next office I was supposed to meet at.  Getting lost downtown seems to be one of my main activities here for a few reasons:

• I refuse to get a smart phone with a data plan because I'm perfectly comfortable with T9 flip phones. I've been living in Nunavut for the last couple of years, dammit, where smart phones are relatively new, and also I'm of the generation that grew up without cell phones at all. On the other hand, it means not having access to a map app...
• ...or access to any map at all, since nobody really feels comfortable pulling out a map in the middle of the street like a target sign to get robbed.
• Usually, I look at a map beforehand and memorize where I'm supposed to go. This doesn't always work out because there aren't always street signs.

 I saw a chicken literally cross the road. My life is a joke.

As I continued along my extra long extra hot wander through town, some men offered helpful directions while other men catcalled me.  Eventually I found the office, which was not air-conditioned. At the end of the day, I decided to head back to the first office, for some more air conditioning and tea.  A man in a truck sat waiting at the gate.

"I'm here to take care of the bees," he said.

I shuddered and decided that maybe I should call it a day.

Hanging around town

On Tuesday night, I decided to check out the local trivia league in Georgetown. I can pride myself on having done trivia on multiple continents now. I was on a great trivia team at Cafe Mojo in Windhoek, Namibia, maybe unfairly because we were a team of North American expats and a lot of the questions were about North America, to the annoyance of the other Namibian teams. The trivia team that I am part of in Ottawa is one of the best in the city, and we've even won the trophy before. I am the least useful of that team. In theory, with my three degrees and travelling experience you'd think I would be useful for questions about things like law or geography, but these are the only trivia answers I have ever really contributed to my Ottawa trivia team, Won Direction:

• The Princess Diaries
• Scrunchies
• Peaches (the indie musician)
• Dead (as in, is Simone DeBeauvoir dead, Canadian, both, or neither?)
• South Sudan  

Twice the answer has been "North Korea" and I did not even get that, despite my being Korean.

Anyway, back to Georgetown's Quiz Night. It's held at a club called Altitude, because at four storeys above ground, it is one of the higher buildings around, with a wonderful view of the city. Unfortunately the elevator has been broken for a while, so getting to the bar involves climbing up what looks like the fire escape in the back. The exercise, however, helps build up an appetite for the bar's yummy plaintain chips.

Every week, there is a different trivia host and the money raised for each week goes to a different charity.  This week, the money was going to a documentary film being made about Guyana having one of the highest suicide rates per capita in the world, which is why I thought it was odd that one of the trivia teams decided to call themselves Suicide Squad.  This week's host was the Brazilian ambassador. There were several questions about Brazil, which helped me learn that I don't know as much about Brazil as I thought.

Team Coconuts

One of the rounds was entirely on South America, which is where I learned that I don't know very much about the continent I am on.  Also, there was a rum round which was a great idea and I think the Ottawa Trivia League should consider incorporating this Guyanese tradition.

 *****

The other weekend, we checked out the Indigenous cultural show held at the Sophia Exhibition complex as part of Indigenous Heritage Month.  The show featured dancing and singing from the various Indigenous villages from regions all over Guyana, and one particularly brilliant performance of a poem written by a young girl about domestic violence. There were also midway games where you could win Disney Frozen pillows. There were all sorts of yummy Amerindian dishes to try out, including pepper pot, as well as a craft display of various intricate arts. I bought a handwoven fan, which I feel like is the most useful purchase I have made this trip. I only wish I had brought a better camera.

*****

I feel the need to inform the world that one morning I found the giantest bug ever in my bathroom. Okay, it was probably not the GIANTEST BUG because I was in South America, and all sorts of different critters exist here that I've never seen before. But this guy. Imagine a mega cockroach, but not a cockroach, with creepy long antennas. I was never going to the bathroom again without turning the lights on.

Usually at home, when I am confronted by the scary house centipedes, I usually make my partner deal with them.  I missed my partner now. I summoned up every ounce of courage I had in me and stomped on the gianty bug with my flipflops.  It was gross.  I summoned up my last remaining reserve of courage and threw its carcass into the toilet to flush it down. Unfortunately, sometimes the suction in my toilet isn't very strong and one flush wasn't enough to send him down the pipes.  I had to wait for the tank to refill before I could try flushing Gianty Bug again. As I waited, I watched in horror as Gianty Bug somehow came back to life, with its creepy antennas twitching, despite having been crushed under my heel.  I imagined it crawling out of the toilet and straight up my leg, and prayed that the toilet tank would fill up with water faster.  I'd never flushed a toilet handle so hard and so fast.  Begone, Gianty Bug.

Later on, one of its brothers showed up in my kitchen to wave its long antennas hello at my roommate while she cooked spaghetti. She also screamed. I strode over, pretending like it was nothing at all, struck it down with a broom and then crushed it with the same flipflop. Picking it up was still gross as ever. Its guts had spilled out in a separate direction and I had to clean that up too.

The next night, I found one under my bed.  I smushed it with my shoe. I did not have any courage left to dispose of it, and its corpse still lies there underneath my bed, even as I sleep.

I think I deserve a bravery medal or some kind of hunting trophy.

 

Last of the big game hunters

I'm slowly learning to be at peace with the mosquitos. I never thought this would happen, but it is possible to get used to their omnipresence. They are everywhere. They are everywhere. They are a fact of life. My window has no screens, but it's also hot, so it's a choice of either closing the windows and slowly baking yourself in your stuffy oven of a room or opening the windows for the occasional breeze and an invitation to the mosquitos to the open blood bar that is your body.

But you learn to come to terms with it. They still bite you, sure, but you tell yourself that you'll get used to it. And hey, the nurse said that the Zika virus is generally asymptomatic. So maybe it's a matter of drawing up a special store of Korean endurance and meditation, and being at one with the situation. First being merely mindful of the pests, and then acceptance.

At least that's what I thought. Then one night, there was a mosquito in my mosquito net.

pretending that my mosquito net is a blanket fort

Let me set the stage for you. I woke up in the morning to the usual sound of my neighbourhood. Kids singing, playing, and occasionally quarreling in the yard. A car alarm somewhere off in the distance, uselessly beeping the sounds that resembled an old modem while nobody cared. The odd mash-up mix of different neighbours blasting different music from their houses, soca, old school 90s hipop, and one neighbour that clearly loves Metallica (it can't be easy being the lone metal head in your Caribbean neighbourhood). Also, I'm pretty sure, from the sounds of it, one neighbour seems to be raising roosters? Roosters that fight? Cockfights? When neighbourhood houses are as close in proximity to each other as they are here, you get in interesting glimpse into their inner lives.

Here in my mosquito net, my body felt like it was buzzing. So itchy all over. I opened an eye and taking one look at my arm, saw that it was covered in welts. So was my legs. And my back. And pretty much anywhere that wasn't covered, and since I don't sleep with a blanket in this weather, there hadn't been much of my body that had been covered. So, so, so itchy. How did this happen? Opening the other eye, I saw a stretch of my mosquito net flapping in the breeze. It had come untucked from my mattress in the middle of the night, and the evil skeeter had seen an opportunity to get in. Damn.

I could hear the bastard mosquito buzzing above my head, probably drunk after a gluttonous night of drinking my blood. How could one guy cause so much damage? I looked down at my stomach, which also had bites, and thought about how I was going to spend the day stretching a shirt over it, trying not to scratch it.  I looked like I had some kind of disease.

You evil bastard, I thought.  I am going to kill you.

Suddenly I was crouching on my bed, posed with my hands ready like a stereotypical martial arts fighter in the kind of kung fu movies that the Wu Tang Clan likes to rap about. The mosquito skitted around my head. It was not lethargic at all, despite having pretty much drained my body dry. It rested momentarily on the netting by my face, and I stabbed my hand forward. Miss! It jumped up and easily dodged my swat, zipping past my ear, where I could practically hear its maniacal laugh.

Fuelled by the soundtrack of barstool prophets in my head, I took another frantic jab. And another. And another. Miss! Miss! Miss! It's actually not that easy to catch a mosquito when you only have the loose fabric of mosquito netting to slap it against. Also, not all of us have the sharpskills of the old man in the Karate Kid and can catch flies with chopsticks.

A surprisingly large proportion of my life in the Caribbean is spent under this mosquito net

Finally the mosquito settled down between a fold in the netting, perhaps exhausted by my relentless pursuit, and I came up with the innovative strategy of rubbing the fold of the netting together. Crunch, crunch, crunch, went the mosquito's body...well, not actually, but I envisioned hearing and feeling it as I crushed its body apart. My blood oozed out of the mosquito's body, staining the mosquito net that I am supposed to return to my employer once I come back to Canada. I felt as triumphant as a hunter.

Then I saw another mosquito.

Eventually I had caught them all, and learned a valuable lesson in mosquito nettery: Always tuck your net in securely. Always.


My mosquito net mattress was a fortress of skeeter-free sanctuary once again. Now, time to face the heat.

The National Park: keeping fit in the Caribbean

I love the Georgetown cityline, and its absence of skyscrapers

I woke up one morning noting that the city outside my window was unusually quiet and calm. And still. Something was missing. Also, it was really hot.

I realized that what I was hearing was the absence of electricity. The power was out. This isn't too unusual here. This meant, unfortunately, that my fan was dead.

Since it also meant that I wasn't going to be able to get work done on my computer until my power went back on, I decided to go for a run to the local gym in my neighbouhood that I'd been meaning to check out.

Getting to the gym was an adventure on its own. First, I almost got hit by a mini-bus because I'm still not used to the fact that cars drive on the left side of the road here, and, more importantly, there aren't any sidewalks so pedestrians generally trudge along the shoulder of the road, where there is one.  Then, somehow despite the multi-storey building with the giant neon sign BUDDY'S, I completely ran passed the gym without noticing it (maybe because I was dodging the oncoming mini-vans), and had to turn back.

Also, I ran into a stray dog. There are lots of stray dogs roaming the streets here, and most of them are kind of scared of humans, but I guess this one was caught off guard by me, because immediately upon sight of me, he bared his teeth and began to snarl. At first my instinct was to continue running my route, but as it chased after me, I realized that it was a mistake to turn my back on the dog, and look like I was running away. It began to run after me. I confronted the dog again, straightened my back and raised my arm, putting on my best impression of a growling polar bear.  I don't know why I instinctively thought to imitate a polar bear. I don't know that it was very impressive because I doubt that dogs around here have ever encountered a polar bear.  Luckily, the dog saw that I wasn't actually a giant steak so he tucked his tail in and ran away.  Yay, big win for me. Gloria versus the sad dog.

This is not the angry dog that confronted me. This dog likes to hang out in my yard. Not sure if he is a stray or if he belongs to someone, but he doesn't chase me around so I like him.

I eventually made it to Buddy's gym, which was an impressive complex, featuring multiple exercise rooms and classes. It didn't have air conditioning, but curiously, it did feature a steam room? I kind of feel like Georgetown is one big steam room, but that's because I'm stereotypically Canadian. They also feature an abs class at 7AM, but since I was the only person to show up for it, I basically got my own personal trainer, which was pretty awesome.

I love the health-loving attitude of Guyanese folks. People love their fresh fruit smoothies here. Unlike other places where I've lived, nobody makes fun of you for wanting to go out for a run. There are gyms everywhere, and nearly everyone I've talked to has a recommendation for their favourite spot. It's normal to see folks out jogging or walking with their family or playing football (soccer). There's a capoeira group, yoga offered by the Indian embassy, as well as a CrossFit gym that multiple people have told me about.  Last Friday night, my roommate and I checked out the soca aerobics class at Space Gym, where I made a discovery: it's fun to do aerobics to cheesy 80s music, but it's even better to do aerobics to soca music.

I also love the cityline view from the Space Gym

 But my favourite fitness spot by far is the National Park.

 It's such a lovely oasis. Unfortunately, getting there can be a bit of a pain. I like to jog there, but generally the safest time to go is right after work, which is the hottest part of the day, so I work up quite the sweat.  And despite looking like a disgusting sweaty mess, I still get no shortage of racial/sexual harassment. Street harassment in form of cat-calling and kissing noises are a common part of life in Georgetown, although local activists are trying to raise awareness about the problem. Some white folks have told me to just shrug it off as harmless, but the comments that are made to me as a person of Asian descent are sometimes racially-based and quite uniquely offensively obscene. It's rather off-putting and makes me reluctant to walk the streets.

Once I get to the National Park, however, it all washes away.  Here, no one is looking to make a date; people are here to enjoy a healthy walk or run with their friends or children. The park features a mile long track loop that you can run around until you're exhausted. I've seen people running it wearing plastic sweatsuits which make me ache just looking at them.  Inside the loop, there are several soccer games happening, as well as street vendors selling refreshments. There are also nice little picnic spots to rest.  The park just feels safe and refreshing.

Oh, also, there are manatees in the pond!

I haven't been able to get a good photo of the manatees yet - they mostly hang out under the water with just their noses poking out.  But I will get one eventually, because I'll definitely be going back to the park again. And again and again and again.

The heat is hot

Not a bad office view

I'm slowly discovering what it means to be Canadian.

I am Canadian. To me, this means that I always want to be slightly cold (cold enough to carry around a favourite sweater), while talking about being someplace warmer, like in the Caribbean near the ocean. Canadians like this more than actually being someplace warmer like in the Caribbean near the ocean. Because then we realize we don't know how to deal with the heat.

Ottawa has been hot this summer. The humidex has consistently been in the thirties. I keep bailing out on my running partner because I've realized that running in the heat at 4:30PM is THE WORST. I've had a few moments this summer while playing soccer where I had the dawning realization: I hate summer. I miss the Arctic. I miss the Arctic.

Here in Georgetown, I've moved out of my hotel into my apartment, and, consequently, into reality. I'd comfortably avoided it for a day, hopping from air conditioned hotel room to air conditioned cab to air conditioned offices, but now with my real Guyanese apartment I have to face real Guyanese weather. And Guyana is hot, hot like hot wings with hot chocolate in hell. I spent my first afternoon in the apartment, lying under the crumpled mess that was my mosquito net that I was too hot to figure out how to set up, as South American mosquitoes eagerly munched on my toes, probably giving me Zika as a thank you gift. I felt my body slowly melt away into a liquid pool of sweat, and wondered how the f-ck anyone manages to get any work done around here with the heat. I was too hot to get up and drag myself into the shower to cool down, let alone think about work.

my unexpectedly spacious new apartment

In case you wanted to know what my bathroom looked like.

A couple folks in town have mentioned Georgetown's new CrossFit gym to me and I'm like HAHAHA sob no I can't I'm a disgusting mess just by existing.

My new apartment seems luxurious by local standards. It's located behind an autobody shop and print shop. Tiny cute lizards crawl along the walls (much better than dealing with cockroaches or mice!).

Neighbourhood alley

 The apartment came fully furnished, including several pictures of Jesus on the wall and a beer opener. I not only have my own bedroom with a big bed but also my own bathroom. The bed came with sheets and pillows too. "But why aren't there any blankets?" I asked myself naively, before I realized there is no need of blankets here ever, pretty much.

This fan = my best friend

It also has a gorgeous upper balcony with a lovely breeze and a cozy view overlooking the palm trees and family life in the backyards below, so I am thankful for that. On the other hand, like many houses, I don't have screens on my windows so I'm sharing my room with a bunch of hungry hungry hippos thirsty thirsty mosquitos.

On another note, a few folks have mentioned to me that it's been unusually cool in Georgetown lately.

Deciding that acclimatization would come in degrees, I decided to escape my reality and take my dinner at the extravagantly air conditioned Pegasus Hotel. I have no idea what happened to adventurous Gloria-in-her-twenties who saw the equatorial heat as another adventure and would spend the evenings cooling down by drinking beers in the shebeens of southern Africa. Now I'm in my thirties, always a little tired, and I just always want to be slightly cold. I don't know what happened. Oh right. I moved to the Arctic in between.

In case you were wondering, the hotel cafe, separated from the swimming pool and the poolside bar by a blissfully air-conditioned glass wall, was freaking wonderful. I ordered a curry meal that was hot enough to make me cry a little. Because that's how I want to sweat. In an air-conditioned room through spicy food.