What Cayenne is like

I have been in Cayenne for a few days now, and I've been all over the downtown area and passed through the outskirts on a bus a few times, so now I feel comfortable commenting. It is, in a word, depressing. The city is dirty and poorly kept. Everything seems blemished or about to collapse, like a colorful Brooklyn without the good neighborhoods.

The outskirts, where many Haitians live, look like they were transported straight from Haiti, and I really wonder how Cayenne would fare in the face of a natural disaster.

Even the Cathedral is depressing:



The inside is not much better, though the fans that line the columns add a bit of levity. I'll take pictures of the inside at a later date, but first I want to attend a service there and then take pictures only when no one's worshipping.

My first hotel was actually quite nice, and I would have loved to stay if not for the high monthly price. But beyond that, nothing is very nice, and if it is nice, it's probably an important government building, like the Hotel de Ville.

Speaking of high prices (going back to my hotel), that seems to be a favorite topic of discussion among the people I've met so far. Everyone agrees that Cayenne is anything but a bargain. Rents are inexcusably high (I'm paying 620€ for a room!), newspapers all cost more here except for the 20 page newspaper of the region, and food all costs more unless you go to the market (which is huge but has a rather restricted selection at first glance). I have yet to meet anyone who is content with Cayenne.

Actually I think I was a bit harsh. The city is not COMPLETELY devoid of pretty spots. Check out this building:




In other news, I went to visit the Monsignor (which I'm pretty sure is the Bishop but I'm not positive). Jorge had spoken to him several months ago, and the Monsignor was supportive but not optimistic, saying that political asylum was granted to those persucuted by their own government, while Jorge was the target of a rebel group from a neighboring country. I was impressed with the Monsignor's Spanish comprehension, as he mostly spoke French, English and Portuguese, though both of them used me as an interpreter for certain parts of the conversation.