I’ve been in Guyana for a week now and, as I come to terms with my surroundings, the extra is being knocked off the extraordinary. A friend recently suggested that while long experience can provide a useful guide to an area, descriptions are often best when they come from newcomers – newbies are more likely to remark on the remarkable.

It’s true and I can see that I’m starting to adapt. The humidity and mosquitos bother me less than they did a week ago and the constant noises are sinking into the background. I’ve just travelled the road from the airport to Georgetown again and was less gob-smacked by everything this time.

The drive from the airport into the centre of Georgetown was filled with sights – colonial-style wooden buildings (usually on stilts – this place is below sea level and liable to flood), fields of sugar cane, beer and rum distilleries and a minibus nose-down in a ditch with a crowd (all seemingly unharmed) surrounding it.

It was pretty obvious I wasn’t in Birmingham anymore.

Since settling at the apartment it’s the sounds that are the most distinctive; there’s always something making noise somewhere. After only a few days I’ve realsised I’ve started to tune out many of the most common sounds. Before I start to ignore them completely, here’s what’s been filling my ears:

The car horns that are used almost as frequently as indicators (and for the same purpose).

The dogs that erupt at night if you let the door to outside bang shut. I’ve learnt my lesson now.

The crickets that chirrup with a metronomic rhythm; at first I wondered if their noise was being made by a generator.

Chutney’s a new one on me – an uptempo mix of soca (think souped-up calypso) and Bollywood music. They seem to like it at the rum bar just over the road.

My shouty neighbour who, at 6am every morning, has an impassioned conversation/argument with someone on the phone. Still, the early starts mean I can get a little work done before I go off to teaching.

We’re off to an open mic poetry night at a place called Upscale tonight. Or tomorrow. Reports seems a little confused. Either way, it seems pretty apt, so I’ll try to make it along and report back.

(Pic – Station Street, Georgetown by Chris Unitt)