Greeting from Paramaribo

After tons of emails of people who were asking why I didn’t update my blog and even a few guys that tried to blackmail me, I decided to follow your advice :-)

This weekend was a shocking weekend. Jerrel, a Suriname guy who’s working opposite my house invited me after 6 weeks to his moms’ place. Jerrel is a ultra-workaholic. He’s investing his time from 7 in the morning till 6 in the evening at his carwash and after 7 in the evening he’s busy as a security guard till 6 in the morning. And actually, I never got it. I mean, why should you work day and night, 7 days a week? His answer was clear: “because I don’t like to live at home.”

It’s 8 in the evening, a rainy day. With clammy jeans we’re driving the scooter on the sandy road. It’s completely dark, there are no streetlights anywhere. Every now and then a car drives by. At a small supermarket with a heavy security fence, we stop. Jerrel has to call his mom to look where we can meet. Later I will find out, that without his mom we wouldn’t ever reach the house.

Pity enough, she’s not answering the phone. So we have to drive through the small town to look if we can find her. After some time driving through holes and small pools, I hear a scream “Mama!”.

I couldn’t believe my eyes; an old lady is sitting on her knees in the heavy mud next to the road. Next to her a bag full of old Fernandes bottles. There was coming a little water out of a pipe, which she was using to fill the bottles.

We park the scooter and with a 25kg of rice, 30 liters of water and an old flashlight we start to go really off the road. There are some pieces of wood to keep your feet a bit dry. With the flashlight we look for the snakes and big holes. It’s almost a scary environment, large trees and the road looks like nobody ever walked there. His mom guides us a bit. It’s hard to prevent yourself hitting pool. After twenty minutes walking from the main road, we reach a small shed. The shed is maybe 12 square meter. Jerrel shouts his brother. A black adorable child opens the door. It reminds me of the promotion-pictures I saw lately from Unicef. He introduces himself with a big smile and big eyes.

We enter the shed, which is enlightened just with one candle melted on an old cup. Sometimes the candle gets a blow of wind and the almost fire disappears. Jerrel tells me that they’re living with 4 people here. The whole shed is fully packed with stuff. A lot of stuff that’s ready for recycling. And then the first question they ask “You like to try the Sauto I just made?”

Once upon a time in Morocco

If sailing is all about adapting your sails to the wind, in such a way the boat goes in the direction you like, then besides a boat and some sails, you need wind. And sometimes nature decides there will be no wind some time.. Like the day we left Gibraltar. We sailed everything with the engine on.. feels like biking with sidewheels.

After some chats, talks and debates captain Gerard decided to make a short break in Africa, Morocco. My first time I was outside of Europe.. wihaaa. It’s simply amazing, in Spain everybody just speaks “Solo Espanol”, in Morocco the people speaks at least 5 different languages. Funny to see a Morrocon speaking Japanese..

The Moroccons are super social, within one day I answered the question “Hej friend, where are you from?” a couple of dozen times. After a while I could predict the next statement, “ah Nederland, achtentachtig prachtige grachten” followed by a short pause and a whispered question “You like some hash, my friend? Good price, good quality”. I still have to met the first Moroccan who sells bad quality at a bad price.

The first morning I woke up an decided that it was a great day for some a short expedition in the new world called Tanger. Despite the burning sun and sweating odors, I decided to be culturally respectful and put on my long sleeves and long pants. I walked out of the dirty harbour and there my adventure started.

I felt my pocket and found out I had only 6 euros with me.. time for some cash change. In the nearest bank the told me it wasn’t possible to change coin money. But I was the lucky bastard that day :) . I met Ali, a Moroccan stock broker. one with good skills. “So you have 6 euros and you want to change them to Dram?”, “Yes”, “I can giv you 30 Dram for it”, “Mmm”. I thought let’s try out my bargain skills. “30? Haha, that’s not enough, I want 40!”, “35”, “No 40 Dram, you know Ali, I go and will find someone else”, “nonono Peter, wait, 40 is ok”.

At the next change office I found out that 40 Dram is only 3,50 Eur. Shit.. that was a really good stock broker.. or I was just stupid for that moment.

Fortunately, I found other social people with good intentions. For example, there was Mustafa: a guy between 30-50 years with an enjoyable English accent because of his 3 teeth. Mustafa asked me if I saw the wool-factory already in Tanger.. nope, didn’t see that. A big factory without any sign of electricity, people weaving shawls and carpets all by hand.. after showing around it was time to try a original djellaba. It was really good quality and ccording to Mustafa a good price.. “How much do you want to give for it?”, “40 Dram”, “My friend, it takes one week to make a piece of clothing like this.. that impossible”, “Hmm..”, “Peter, you will like it.. it’s good for on the boat, people Morocco will respect you more if you wear it ..”, “You are kidding, I look like a clown in this thing”, “ok ok, let’s go. You like some Moroccan whiskey my friend?”, “Sure”.

Another Ali joined and together we went to an old dirty teahouse. We ordered some tea, Mustafa & Ali preferred to share one cup of tea.. allright. Mustafa grabbed his kif-pipe and asked if like to try some kief, because the Moroccan whiskey (tea) is without alcohol, the effect of alcohol will be produced by the kif. “Sure, let me try”. After a few minutes I realized I had a great experience with really people from Morocco, I felt really happy of this authentic experience. “Mustafa, you think it’s possible to buy a pipe like this as a souvenir?”, “Yes, you can buy this one.. only 25 Euro”. Yes, 25 euro.. “ok, that’s to much”, “Well, you know, think about it.. how much do you want to give for this experience, the kief, the pipe, the tea.. think about it.. 25 euros is a good price”, “ok, I will not pay, I don’t have money”, “How much do you have?”, “40 Dram and piece of chewing gum”, “ok, you give me your chewing gum and the 40 Dram and you get the pipe, the tea and the experience”

That was a good bargain, hehe, such a lot of stuff only for 3,5 Euros.

By the way, I bought a CD for 10 Dram from the El Houcine Asseblar and Fatima Tassourite.. the Morocon Idols.. they are great!

Next time in Peter’s big adventures: Water, sky and rollercoaster feelings: travelling by sailboat. Stay tuned!