Life from Behind the Visor: Parle vous French Fry

Brenda had read that fuel was way cheaper in Fr. Guyana so we did not bother to fill up on the Brasil side, even though the warning light had been on for a few kilometers already. We did find the Police Federal building where we could get our passports stamped, but not for another hour because they are closed from 12 until 2pm. While we waited we found the ferry terminal which was also closed until 2pm.

Back to the Police station and at 2pm, not a minute sooner the gate opens and a group of people step inside where we are greeted by an officer. He collects all the passports and then goes inside the building, we all wait outside in the heat. He returns in about 10minutes with our documents and we are on our way to the ferry. R$120 each for the 10 minute ferry ride across to St.George, Fr. Guyana. There were no other cars on the ferry so I am not sure how they make any money transporting two bikes.

Now the fun begins, once off the ferry we ask where to get our passports stamped. One of the dock workers replies in good English, turn right at the big Mango tree and the Police station is on the left. Okay, down the street we go and into the police station parking lot. An officer sticks his head out the door and we ask if this is where we get our passports stamped, he makes some arm gestures and says something in French. Ah crap, yet another language to figure out. It is actually embarrassing to admit how little French we understand when it is our second official language. In any event I thought he said to go to the next block or something, there is another Police station on the GPS so we go there and try our luck. They send us 6km out of town to the bridge that is completely constructed but not open. It has been like this for years. Once at the bridge the officer tells us in English that we should be at the first police station for passport stamps, he even phones to make sure. Back on the bikes we go however we are very low on fuel, a little too low in fact because Brenda runs out just before town, I did not notice that she was not behind me and made it to the Police Station. I wait for a while but no Brenda, great, back on the bike and start backtracking. There she is pushing her bike along the road, good that she is ok, I take off to the gas station to get some fuel. The only gas station in town is closed for the day and on the way back I run out of fuel. Now we are both pushing our bikes down the road. Son-of-a-@#*. Well apparently the first police officer was telling us to park on the other side of the building, not other side of the block. We get our documents stamped, and they do not ask for proof of insurance.

Good bye Brasil

Now we just have to push our bikes to the Hotel and wait for the gas station to open in the morning. Good thing it is a small town and it is only 3 blocks from the Police station to the Hotel. We roll up in fashionable style, sweating and smelly I’m sure. We are quickly approached by a drunk guy on a bicycle asking where we are from and if we need a place to stay .I think he was offering for us to stay at his house but this was all a bit too weird for me. I brushed him off and proceeded to try and check into the hotel, which was closed, at least for a few hours more according to the drunk guy. Then a young traveller walked up and helped with the situation. He had been waiting since noon for the hotel to open, and when he had called they said at 4pm, as did the drunk guy. It was now 4:30 and still no sign of opening, maybe at 5pm. So we sit and wait, then the traveller suggests that we may be able to buy gas from the boat Captains, this makes sense and would allow us to ride out to the gas station instead of taking a cab or walking or whatever. This seemed logical that they would have a bit of extra fuel for their boats.

A little bit of bike pushing for exercise and humility.

Drunk guy on left, traveler in middle, dirty bike guy on right.

So begins the mini-adventure. I talk with one Captain then another, and finally a friendly little guy motions for me to get in his boat and he would take me to get some fuel. Back in Brasil. Okay, illegal entry into Brasil for a few minutes should be okay. He takes me across the river first where we drop off a person, then we go downriver to a small village general store and buy some fuel from a barrel, then back across the river to pick up a passenger and back to St. George.