From Costa Rica to Suriname, a travel report

Hi everyone, I’m restarting my travel reports with my 2023 trip that took me from Costa Rica to Suriname over a month and a half.

First stop: Costa Rica. I arrived in late September in San José, a city I know well and never linger in. As soon as I got off the early-morning flight, I headed to the domestic airport—just a 5-minute walk away—to catch a 45-minute flight to Puerto Limón on the Caribbean coast. The 40-minute flight in a small Cessna was fun, especially since we landed on a tiny airstrip right by the sea—it felt like landing on the beach, which immediately set the mood. Plus, I wasn’t keen on enduring the 4–5-hour bus ride to Cahuita, especially since large sections of the road were under renovation. In Cahuita (where I’ve been going every year since 2015), I stayed at Kenaki Lodge on Playa Grande. It’s a great lodge, about a 45-minute walk from Cahuita’s center, but you’re just 50 meters from the beach and usually have it all to yourself. The lodge is run by Béa, a Frenchwoman, and depending on the season, you can help release baby turtles on the beach. The room was 55 €, very spacious, and you can use the outdoor kitchen. I’d recommend it for anyone looking for peace and quiet and a private beach.

After 5 days there, I flew to Cartagena but didn’t stay overnight. Instead, I headed straight to Rincón del Mar, a 3-hour bus ride from CTG. I’d mostly heard about it from a friend who lives there and runs El Ché, a beachfront restaurant. Rincón del Mar is a tiny seaside village, very peaceful, with a pretty nice beach. There are lots of small hotels and restaurants, and it’s a spot that’s likely to grow quickly in the coming years. Note: there’s no ATM there, so you’ll need to withdraw cash in San Onofre, about 30 minutes away by moto-taxi. The round trip costs around 25,000 COP. That’s also where you catch the bus to Cartagena. For accommodations, rooms were roughly 70,000–90,000 COP, with a so-so value for the price. As for things to do, I’d recommend the tour that takes you to watch the sunset in front of Bird Island, followed by a swim in a lagoon with bioluminescent plankton. The excursion (if I remember correctly) cost around 90,000 COP.

After a week in Rincón del Mar, I headed back to Cartagena and decided to fly to Yopal to visit the Río Meta. In Yopal, you’ll need to go to the bus terminal (10 minutes by taxi from the airport). From there, I took a bus to Orocué (50,000 COP) for about a 4-hour trip—it felt endless because the road was in terrible condition. Orocué is a tiny town on the banks of the Río Meta, but it has all the essentials (hotels, restaurants, ATMs). It’s lovely to stroll along the river at sunset. There are a few small bars, the area is very natural, the sunsets are stunning, and when there are distant storms, it’s just breathtaking. For lodging, I stayed at Hotel Brisas de San Miguel. It wasn’t bad—fan-cooled room for 70,000 COP. There were quite a few mosquitoes. I spent 3 days in Orocué. If you want to swim, head to the bridge (the only one), Cano San Miguel, and on the right, there’s a swimming spot. With the heat, it’s a great way to cool off.

From Orocué, I took a fast *lancha* (boat) up the Río Meta to Puerto Carreño, in the Vichada department at the far end of Colombia. This brings you to the majestic Orinoco River, right across from Venezuela. The boat ride is long—10 hours—and costs about 60 €. We left around 6 AM, with a few stops for bathroom breaks and meals along the way. But you *must* book your spot 1–2 days in advance. To do that, go to the small square above the dock—there’s a "navigation office" there. The trip was long but enjoyable. I never get tired of river journeys.

I was happy to finally arrive in Puerto Carreño, a small border town with Venezuela. No surprise that half the population was Venezuelan. In Puerto Carreño, I stayed at Hotel Delfines del Orinoco. The room was 80,000 COP, decent, with A/C, and the best part was the pool. I spent 2 nights there. One thing you *must* do—morning and evening—is hike to the top of Cerro de la Bandera (the *cerros* are huge rock formations typical of the Orinoco region, and there are many in the area). From the summit, you get amazing 360° views of the savanna and jungle. Sunrise is especially incredible. The trail is well-marked—from downtown Puerto Carreño, it takes about 20 minutes.

Next, I spent 3 nights at Rancho Barú. About an hour by boat from Puerto Carreño, you get off at Casuarito, and someone from the lodge picks you up by motorcycle for a 30-minute ride. The ranch is in the middle of the savanna, with a river/rapids beach just a 5-minute walk away. You can also fish—bites come quickly. For the lodge, one night (room or hammock) with shared bathrooms, three meals included, one excursion, plus the round-trip motorcycle ride costs 245,000 COP. An extra night without an excursion is around 100,000 COP, but you need to let the lodge know in advance so they can prepare enough food—there’s absolutely nothing for miles around.

After those 3 great days at the ranch, I took a canoe to cross into Venezuela, since Casuarito is right across from Puerto Ayacucho. The crossing costs 10,000 COP, but I got shaken down by Venezuelan immigration, who invented a violation and made me pay $40 USD. Puerto Ayacucho didn’t inspire me much. The city felt sketchy, with many hotels closed. Dealing with currency exchange was the hardest part—you *must* bring cash (USD or Colombian pesos), know the exchange rate, and find someone with enough money to exchange with you. It took me at least 2 hours. I stayed in a decent hotel downtown for $20 USD a night, but I’ll admit that going out at night—even in Puerto Ayacucho—felt pretty dodgy. All the buildings have bars on the windows, and there weren’t many people outside. I didn’t linger and found my plans to continue south too complicated. The next day, I took a bus across the country to the Brazilian border at Santa Elena de Uairén. The trip took a day and a night, with countless military checkpoints where they made everyone get off, unload all the luggage, etc. Not exactly a fun ride.

Photos: - 2 sunrises near the Orocué dock - Storm over the savanna at Rancho Barú - View of the savanna and Orinoco near Casuarito - Photo taken during the Río Meta boat trip

Really nice travel journal. One of the first in years—it’s a pleasure to read. I’ll revisit it with a map because beyond northern Brazil, French Guiana, and Suriname, I’m really not familiar with South America. Makes me want to spend more time there and return after my Guianese life, which is now a thing of the past.

Gorgeous photos.

Otherwise, from what I understand, you didn’t go through there to connect Central and South America, but to your knowledge, is the Darién Gap passable via routes other than those taken by migrants trying to find a better life and crossing under horrendous conditions?

And here we go for the next part, from Santa Elena, crossing the border and entering Brazil. I hadn’t crossed this border since 2016, and wow, what a change—back then, it was a quiet border with almost no one around. In 2023, it’s become a refugee camp, and I’m not exaggerating. There are thousands of Venezuelans waiting to enter Brazil, so they’re stuck at the border. Tents and humanitarian facilities have been set up between the Brazilian and Venezuelan border posts.

All this traffic toward Brazil has quintupled the use of the Pacaraima to Boa Vista road, which is completely wrecked. The trip now takes about 3 hours.

I arrived in Boa Vista around midday and took the overnight bus to Manaus (240 BRL).

Last year, the dry season was particularly harsh—so much so that there was almost no water left in many parts of the Amazon, which seriously affected river transport. In Manaus, Ponta Negra beach was closed for swimming because the water was not only extremely low but also probably over 35°C.

On top of the crushing heat, Manaus was completely smoked out due to forest fires. It must’ve been 35°C at midnight, the air was barely breathable, and to make matters worse, there was a protest movement that meant garbage wasn’t being collected. I won’t even tell you...

Still, I stayed with a friend for a week. She had a pool, and we were able to relax at the *balnearios* around Manaus.

The heat and stifling air eventually got to me, so I left—though why I ended up in the middle of nowhere in Roraima, in a town called Normandia, I’ll never know. There was supposed to be a river there, which is why I went. Turns out, there was absolutely nothing to do—the river was dry, so it was a pointless detour. I stayed one night and then headed to Bonfim, the last Brazilian town before Guyana.

In the end, I spent 3 nights in Bonfim, which let me discover Lagoa Bonita, a kind of huge lagoon right next to the town. You can walk there (40 minutes), and it’s basically a big *balneario* with a really nice restaurant/hotel for spending the day if you’re staying in Bonfim.

You can also swim in the Takutu River, and if you want to hang out on little beaches, you can wade across the river (depending on the season) and set up on the beaches on the Guyanese side. The area is pretty busy.

For accommodation, I stayed at the Hotel Takutu, which cost 100 BRL per night and was great.

After 3 days in Bonfim, I arrived in Lethem, where I stayed for 2 nights. I stayed at my usual spot, the Takutu Hotel. Note that the hammock area hasn’t been maintained since COVID, so it’s completely abandoned, including the bathrooms. I ended up taking a room for 60 € per night.

I picked up a few things in Lethem and then headed back to Michelle Island. It’s a tiny islet on the Essequibo River where you can stay. To get there, take a van toward Georgetown and get off when you reach the ferry crossing at Kurukupari.

You need to contact Michelle before going because, once again, you’re on an islet in the middle of the river. Even though there’s a small snack bar on the shore, they have to bring in food.

Michelle Island is a small islet with three little stilt houses—two dormitories and a third that serves as the kitchen.

I was alone on the island with Michelle’s husband, Pius, a really friendly Amerindian who takes care of your stay. He’ll mostly handle the cooking and take you out on the river by boat to fish or visit the nearby Amerindian communities.

Note that the little beach on Michelle Island faces rapids, so you can spend the day in the water getting massaged by the current right in the middle of the jungle.

A night in a hammock on the island costs 15 €. Since I was the only one there, I also got to sleep in the little house with two beds for the same price. But sleeping in a hammock facing the rapids is still pretty awesome.

It was a fantastic stay on this island.

Just a heads-up: Guyana is in the middle of an economic boom. Georgetown has really cleaned up, and new buildings, restaurants, etc.—especially along the famous Beach Wall—are popping up like mushrooms.

Well, the Darien Gap *is* doable, since migrants cross it. That said, it’s really not recommended.... I looked into doing it a few years back, but it was way too complicated—and honestly dangerous—so I dropped the idea.

OK, got it. I thought there might be alternative routes (longer ones, for example) to avoid dangerous paths. But if they don’t exist, oh well.

Scary, these effects of climate change you’re describing for Manaus and its region—it’s really heartbreaking.

Oh, that’s another debate (climate change...) when you go to Manaus and see the sign showing the river’s height over decades... well, in the end, it’s a phenomenon that happens every year, with some years being more or less pronounced....

Back to the Darien Gap—yes, there must be other ways to cross the area, but it takes a lot of time, finding a reliable guide, etc... And on top of that, it’s probably really expensive... Jungle expeditions aren’t exactly in short supply in the region, and there are safer spots....

Oh yes, thanks for this first travel update, Jacques—it really takes me back to the good old days! 😄

This part of the world isn’t in my short-term plans, but there are still a few spots you described that really caught my eye… though definitely not all of them, for sure! 😆

Have a great evening, Christelle

Thanks! :) I’m taking the opportunity to wrap up my journey. From Georgetown, I took a bus to Paramaribo, then a flight from Parbo > New York > Paris. Here are a few tips: to cross Suriname, you’ll always need a "tourist card," which costs $25 or $20—I can’t remember—which you can buy directly when crossing the border (from Guyana). The same card will cost more if you buy it on the official Suriname tourism website. What’s more, the site doesn’t mention that you can purchase your tourist card directly at the border. Another observation: Paramaribo has really changed since Covid. I’m thinking especially of the riverfront near Fort Zeelandia, which used to be lively in the evenings, with lots of little street food stalls—great for grabbing a drink and eating cheaply. Well, when I was there, everything had closed. That area has become dead. Several hotels and restaurants in the area have also shut down. Now, there’s a new nightlife spot a bit farther out, toward the Casino... But of course, it’s obviously more expensive than what used to be on the riverfront—too bad. Now, the city that’s becoming attractive is Georgetown. Paramaribo seems to be falling into neglect... It wasn’t just Covid, either—there was also a period of high political tension in Suriname in 2022, I think? In any case, there were still burned-out buildings in that neighborhood. Not great for those who visited that part of Parbo, where it used to be so nice in the evenings. Another note: payment apps have developed at an insane speed in northern Brazil and Colombia, to the point that some shops/restaurants, etc., no longer accept cash. So if you’re using cash, I’d advise breaking your large bills as soon as you can, because many places don’t have change to give you, especially for 100 reals in Brazil. Anyway, it was a really beautiful trip with some great discoveries....

Hi Jacques, I’ve been browsing the travel journals as they come in—VF’s just back up, so there aren’t many yet, but I’m keeping up!

Thanks for yours; it brought back some great memories of Brazil.

Quick tip to space out your writing: there’s a button to insert photos directly into the text when you upload them.

Safe travels,

Before, I used to post photos directly in the text. But now I can’t seem to do it anymore... Did the site change something? Or is it just me?

The iguana in Belém can’t read.

Looks like it’s on you since I can’t seem to do it… Once downloaded, there’s a button below the photo that says “add to text.”

Does that ring a bell? Next time you’re there, say hi to Kim and Flo from me at Cabinas Cahuita 😊

oh yeah, the photo speaks to me :) Well yeah, adding it to the text is exactly what I did and it didn’t work...

okay! Problem solved!

oh yes, the photo speaks to me :) Well, yes, adding it to the text is exactly what I did and it didn’t work...

okay! problem solved!

Cool! Like the hummingbird, I did my part 😊

Hi Jacques,

Thanks for these beautiful photos and this lovely story... it's so gorgeous...