The Tailor Of Paramaribo

My sister sent me a message announcing the temperature in Northwest Scotland is hovering around 50 degrees which was a warning or a reminder to get my Andean cold weather clothes in order. Thus I discovered my jeans have developed holes in the knees, fashionable but not warm. We needed a tailor. No not fried chicken. 

Paramaribo KFC Kwattaweg

We tried two different tailors and the first said her mom does repairs but she’s in China until the middle of November so that didn’t work. The next tailor on Google Map’s list was a pretty upscale establishment so I was embarrassed to wander in to a five star haberdashery with my road clothes, but they welcomed us anyway. 

I’m no one’s idea of a clothes horse but I wouldn’t mind a jacket like that in my life. Anyway their tailor couldn’t get my jeans done before the weekend so the lady at the store gave us another guy’s name. Mr Roman does alterations she said and gave us his number. We sent him a WhatsApp and got no reply. 

Now the story gets all Suriname weird but in a good way.  The lady from the store called Layne on WhatsApp and asked how it went. We told her we’d not heard back from Mr Roman. Oh she said he probably won’t reply to you as he doesn’t recognize your number. We do that in Suriname, I’ll let him know… Well, her intervention unlocked the blockage and we promised to see Mr Roman the next day after he replied to our message after the lady at the store called him and give him our bonafides.  Suriname functions on who you know apparently.

Paramaribo cemetery entrance

We found our way to Kwattaweg 143 and after not locating the shop on our drive past the first time we went round the block on some narrow sand alleys freaking out the neighbors with our giant van, but on the second pass  I stopped across the street and took to my feet. 143 was …a supermarket. Huh?

Roman’s Supermarket

I went inside and of course the nice Chinese lady cashier spoke no English. So I got my mime jacket on and mimed sewing; her face lit up and she found me a sewing kit. Finally a guy who spoke a little English came by and he directed me down the alley alongside the supermarket. 

Roman’s Tailor Shop 

Well that looked like a tailors shop but Mr Roman was nowhere to be seen. We decided to come back after lunch, and at least we knew where to go now.  Suriname is like that, the country is so small everyone knows everyone and you hardly need to advertise. Indeed Mr Roman sent us a message out of the blue saying he’d be back after 2pm. Clearly the clerk in his supermarket told him two weirdo Americans  were looking for him and he knew exactly who we were.  We had Dim Sum for lunch. 

Restaurant basin in the dining room 

I love these basins in restaurants, not in the toilet but in the dining room and I use them. And then lunch. 

Fried ribs, dumplings, baby bok choy and hot tea

It was good but as usual not cheap at US $32. I don’t suppose that sounds wildly expensive but in Peru a workers’ lunch might cost less than ten bucks for two. Different standards of living. 

Mr Roman was in and he took the measurements and said our alterations will be ready by 1pm Saturday. I have a taxi booked to the airport for one pm Sunday with breakfast planned in Amsterdam Monday morning and lunch in Inverness. Air travel is uncomfortably fast compared to GANNET2.

Mr Roman charged a reasonable $12 for the work 

His English was not extensive but enough to be understood without miming. And so it goes in Suriname. 

Paramaribo labyrinth 

And that’s one simple task complete. Travel broadens the mind they say which may be true but it does teach you the value of knowing how to plan to take time and effort to accomplish the simplest tasks.  If you need a tailor in Paramaribo I know now how to find one. And he speaks some English. 

The Soup Nazi

 Actually it was not a negative soup experience at all. It’s just that I like the Seinfeld humor and my wife doesn’t so if I can slip in a Seinfeld reference on my page I will.

It doesn’t look like much I know but it was a thick rich peanut soup -hold the hot sauce which I tasted and it was lethal.

We picked up our dinner at the store downtown, Souposo, which offers a variety of Indonesian soups  and rice dishes. We had fish to go with plantains and carrots. 

The staff were preparing a corporate dinner when we arrived so our order took half an hour to put together. 

But there was a breeze and Layne has acclimated after her malarial bout and seems better able to cope with tropical heat.

It was a relaxing moment waiting for soup. I like this retirement thing where other people work. 

We also stopped by the Presidential

Palace located on a sharp corner awkward for photography, but there’s always the internet for back up.

But behind the place is a large park…

…and the tables belong to a coffee shop…

…in these food huts alongside the park. It’s summer and low tourist season so most of them were closed…

…but coffee was available happily. A flat white for me and ice cream and coffee for Layne. 

Plus they ground two half pound bags of coffee for Layne. 

Sweetie Coffee worked for us. 

We tried anotherctsilors shop to get some clothes repaired but struck out again as they were too busy for immediate service. 

Actual picture of a residentially challenged local as always laid back. 

No idea what this place is but Layne thought it looked like a school district administrative headquarters. Memories of a past life I suppose. 

Paramaribo Street, Suriname 

Good soup, easy day and Rusty was glad to see us when we got back. 

Rusty walking Paramaribo

Nothing Much But Paramaribo

 Next weekend I’m off to my sisters wedding and an old college friend will be here with Layne for the week I’m gone. We’re planning our departure for after I get back and of course the first thing is organizing  Rusty’s exit papers to allow him to take the ferry to French Guyana. This is the vet: Dierenartspraktijk L.M. Bansse-Issa; say that three times fast. 

I find walking up to a building that is locked down with bars, especially a vet, a bit weird but Paramaribo may be more edgy than it feels like it is. Even the laundry was locked when we went to get our clean clothes, fourteen pounds weight for US$20 but nothing is inexpensive here. Our apartment for a thousand bucks a month does seem like a good deal mind you.  After  finishing business we had lunch which was at last an Indonesian saoto, a dish we had long since wanted to try. 

We got a side of white rice to which I added a few drops of the lethal hot sauce they use. Saoto was interesting, a bit like a ramen with crunchy rice noodles in the broth.  I’ll try it again but personally I find Vietnamese pho more interesting. The restaurant below which they call “warung” in the Javanese community in Paramaribo. 

We meandered home looking for a tailor to do some clothing alterations but the only one we found is out of town in China this month…so we consoled ourselves with a mango drink and went home to the as usual sleeping dog. 

Paramaribo on the way home including a couple of sandy streets which Google thinks are short cuts:

Parking the beast is easier in this town than you’d think. Mornings and afternoons have lots of the usual commuter traffic but so does the  noon hour as the country shuts down between 12 and four for the world's longest lunch hour. 

Wooden yellow street signs, surprisingly effective and visible. I can’t pronounce them but I can read them.

The other thing I’ve noticed in Paramaribo are the power poles made of wood. What’s odd about them is they are shaved tree trunks so instead of being round they are square. Who would take the time to do that and why baffles me. 

The usual Chinese grocery store. It sounds like a cliché but in Suriname all groceries are Chinese. 

I see the largest concentration of white people (who avoid eye contact with us) in the two top, most expensive grocery stores, Tulip and Choi’s. I assume they are transplants from the Netherlands in some capacity, diplomats, career transfers or Dutch people looking for better weather and maybe a few descendants of residents since independence in 1975. Pure tourists like us are extremely rare. 

 

Paramaribo is very Dutch, middle class neat and tidy. There are obviously poor neighborhoods but trash is scarce and neatly trimmed front yards are the rule. 

Who comes to gamble in the numerous casinos downtown I have no idea. 

The tallest building we have seen in this capital city. 

The bus depot has a lot more buses than you see on the streets. Traffic is mostly slow moving cars with a sprinkling of suicide scooters.