Postcard from Paramaribo

Dear Friend,

The air in Paramaribo hums with stories. Every street corner seems to hold the echo of a past conversation, the slightest glint of a forgotten secret. I write this mostly down by the water, where the Suriname River slips oh so lazily toward the sea, pulling with it the light of a rising sun that stretches long shadows and immense heat over the pier where I perch myself. Soon, the Alex-2 will be ready for my sailing to Barbados, but for now, I am content to let the city leave its imprint on me; and trust me, it has left a substantially sized one.

Paramaribo is a place of many layers. like a perfect onion except it doesn't make you cry. Colonial buildings stand (and crumble) comfortably next to vibrant, modern murals. I spent my morning tracing the city's pulse at the Central Market, where the air thickens with the perfume of spices and the sharp tang of salt fish. Vendors call out in Sranan Tongo, their voices threading through the warm air like music. From there, I walked to the northern ferry dock where I made friends with a local captain who so kindly took me across the river to allow for my exploration in even the hidden outskirts of the city. Nowhere is truly out of bounds for an eager explorer such as myself.

Yesterday evening, I wandered down to Fort Zeelandia with some of my companions from the boat. The old bricks are warm beneath our hands, steeped in the weight of history and I could’ve sworn, the fresh rain allowed our senses to travel back in time to when soldiers occupied their guard posts. Standing at the edge, I imagined the ships that once filled this river, carrying explorers and merchants, dreamers and the dispossessed. It's a strange comfort, knowing I too will be joining the stream of travellers that this city has witnessed in just a few short days as I set sail.

Perhaps my favourite moments have been at sunset, watching the light scatter across Independence Square. The palms sway as if whispering to each other, and the soft murmurs of families gathering for the evening settle like a blanket over the grass. I feel both like an observer and a participant in these quiet rituals of the city. As the days close and the pitter patter of rain hits the metal roofs, I can’t help but feel immensely lucky for the experience I’ve been able to have this far.

Tomorrow, we enter the jungle for the day. After all, it seems irrational to travel to such a nature centred country and not pursue such an action. More to come on that later though.

And then next week we set sail. The Alex-2 waits like a patient giant, her yellow masts and green sails cutting into the sky. I can already feel the shift in the air, the call of the horizon growing louder. But I leave a part of myself here, tucked into the streets of Paramaribo, nestled between the bright market stalls and the rustle of palm leaves.

Until we meet again,

E

P.S. If you ever find yourself in this part of the world, visit the Waterkant right before dark. You’ll want to experience it with others but I promise you won't regret it and simply put, I’ve never felt more immersed in a culture before.