My French Guiana Disaster Trip
Heard French Guiana was some wild untouched place, all jungle and space rockets. Booked tickets faster than you can say “mosquito nightmare”. Figured it’d be like that one travel show episode. Man, was I wrong.
First thing: money. Got Euros? Great. Don’t got Euros? Good luck. My stupid self forgot to exchange cash. Airport exchange booth lady laughed at me – straight up laughed – when I handed her USD. “Non.” Local ATMs? Yeah they spit out Euros, after eating half my savings in fees.
Thought I’d be smart and book tours online. Big nope. Found out most “tours” start from Cayenne city center. My cheap hostel? 15km outside town. Bus schedule? Might as well be written in ancient Greek. Grabbed some handwritten paper in French off a dusty counter. Got on what I hoped was the right bus. Driver yelled at me in rapid French when I paid wrong.
Space Centre visit was the plan. Made it halfway there. Security guard stops me: “Votre réservation?” Reserva-what? Turns out you gotta book MONTHS ahead for Guiana Space Centre tours. Shoulder slump moment. Just stared at some fences.
Tried improvising. “Jungle hike!” I declared. Got devoured alive. No joke. Those mosquitoes are tanks with wings. Sprayed half a can of DEET. They treated it like appetizer sauce. Legs swelled up like balloons. Found some local pills at a pharmacy, tasted like bitter dirt.
Total Chaos Exploration
Decided to wing it towards Devil’s Island. Boat ride? Stumbled into some local fisherman hauling nets. Offered him 20 Euros. He grunted and waved me aboard. Worst boat ride ever. Felt like riding a washing machine in hurricane mode.
Actual Island Experience: Got there soaking wet. Saw the old prison ruins. Creepy vibes. Felt ghosts breathing down my neck. Tried taking artsy photos. Fell backwards into a mud pit. Phone almost died. Used my last power bank juice to save pics of muddy shoes.
Got lost walking back. Jungle looks same every damn direction. Path vanished. Started sweating buckets. Panic rising when some kids playing soccer pointed me towards town. Offered them snacks. They took the whole bag.
The “Adventure” Ends
Food situation: Desperate. Tried this shack serving something dark brown. Tasted like mystery meat stewed in regret. Chewy bits still unidentified. Stomach rumbled for hours afterward.
Last day escape plan: Flight got delayed twice. Sat on cracked plastic chairs for 6 hours. Airport WiFi password? They wanted my firstborn child’s social security number. Just stared at the ceiling fan counting rotations.
What I learned:
- Learn basic French. “Où sont les toilettes?” saved me multiple times.
- Bring EUROS. Big stacks. ATMs rob you blind.
- Book EVERYTHING. Space Centre? Tours? Beds? Assume it’s sold out.
- Mosquitoes run this place. Dress like a beekeeper.
- Embrace the chaos. Nothing goes right. Ever.
Honestly? It beat sitting at home watching Netflix. But if you ask me to go back? Pass. Once was plenty. Got a mosquito bite on my elbow that still itches thinking about it. Adventure achieved? Yeah. Enjoyable? Ask me after the malaria test results come back.
