My column...

Admittedly, this is probably a repeat of much of what is already on my blog, however here is my fully published, fancy column...

Back in February, I visited Guyana, the land of many waters, many bottles of rum and where my many (well two) parents are from. From the moment I stepped off the plane I was taken by the intense heat, soft breeze and, of course, the shot of El Dorado rum I received upon arrival. So eight months later I thought it was time to pack my bags, head to the motherland, get in touch with my roots, drink copious amounts of rum, perhaps find a goat-herding husband and of course, work.

What I wasn’t prepared for was the culture shock that comes with actually living here along with working not five, but six days a week! Apparently this is normal over here (I like to conduct a survey everywhere I go to see how many days people work, six or seven is average), however for my lazy British behind it’s not. I’m slowly getting used to it though and I am finding that there’s still plenty of time to experience the wonders of Guyanese culture.

At the moment I’m staying with my Aunt, which is a mini culture fest in itself. She loves to cook every West Indian dish in the book (and tell me about every sordid crime that occurs in Georgetown). So far, I’ve sampled baigan choka, baigan curry, squash curry, black eye cook up, fish and chips, fried fish, methem, vermicelli and of course, chicken curry. (The list goes on by the way.) However all these decadent dishes means that I’ve been accompanying my lovely aunt to Stabroek Market on a tri-weekly basis.

I’ve restricted myself to heading down town once a week now though, as all those screaming bus touts, dead carcasses and losing lottery tickets have started to give me a headache. What I do love, however, are the music vendors. Tell me, where have they sprung from? I swear I didn’t see any in February. The tunes that blare out from those brightly painted, larger-than-life ghetto blasters always bring a smile to my face. It’s like going to a nightclub in the middle of the day. However, if I hear “One More Night” one more time, I might stab myself in the foot with a cutlass which, I’ve come to notice, is quite a common thing. Cutlass crime that is, not stabbing my foot. I’ve been assured though, that these are merely crimes of passion and as long as I steer clear of love, romance and water coconuts, I’ll be safe.

But Stabroek Market isn’t the only place I’ve visited. Last week, the Essequibo River beckoned, so I took a trip to Bartica. As soon as I reached Parika and jumped onto the ageing wooden speedboat, life jacket in hand, I knew I was in for the ride of my life. Zipping across the vast expanse of the stunning river brought a certain sense of freedom and reckless abandonment as I drank in the sights of the lush islands piled high with greenery, the teeny-tiny beaches beckoning to the speedboats and, of course, Eddy Grant’s awesome house plonked on top of his own private mecca. Bartica itself was quiet. Compared to Georgetown most places are, however the golden rum sipped at the Kool Breeze Wharf made the trip worthwhile as I gazed out onto the stunning river, silly (semi-drunk) smile plastered across my face.

Aside from chicken curry, speedboats and rum, I’ve also taken it upon myself to learn the steel pan drums from the truly inspiring Mr Roy Geddes. He is, in a word, awesome as is his pan yard which is packed with plants, fascinating quotations and, of course, many a steel pan drum. So far I’ve learnt the F scale, the C scale as well as Do-Re-Mi! It's simply a matter of time before The Pegasus comes knocking at my door.

So while I’ve enjoyed pretty much everything about my trip so far (six-day week aside), my stand-out moment has to be arriving at my desk to find two rolls of toilet paper sat, quite happily, next to my computer. I like loo roll as much as the next person. However, it was a quite a surprise. Apparently staff are given a toilet paper allocation each month. Yes, that's right. A toilet paper allocation. Men get one roll, women get two. Bonkers I know. But cool. In England we have to make do with what’s in the bathroom and if there’s nothing there, then too bad. But this idea is genius. I just need to make sure I go easy on the pone and don't get a bout of diarrhoea before October 23 (the next time the paper is dished out).