A car with wings

Apparently all of Suriname knows our itinerary. When we return our bicycles after returning from Frederiksdorp, the cheerful employee of FIS bicycle rental says that he has received a call from Judith from Jungle Resort Pingpe. Would we like to contact her?

After a Greek salad and a hamburger at the adjacent diner, I call her. 'Our guests have chartered a plane for tomorrow to fly back to Paramaribo. It goes empty to Pingpe. If you would like to come along, you can do so at no extra cost.' Very thoughtful, but this requires internal deliberation. Joke really wants to, but I don't like such a small plane. So I ask if we can give a definitive answer in an hour. The outcome is actually predetermined in advance and when Cathrin from Suriname Holidays calls shortly afterwards with the same question, I say we will do it. God bless the grip.

At Zorg en Hoop airport -who comes up with such a name?- we meet Annie and her children Wendell and Zoë, all three just as nervous as I am. The five of us, including our luggage, have to sit on a scale. All together we weigh just under four hundred kilos. Fortunately, because our device can't get any higher. I hope that the fact that a pilot also needs to be taken into account has been taken into account.

From the departure room I see a small plane that inspires me with some confidence. “Ours is behind it,” says Joke, immediately dashing any hopes. I see a kind of small passenger car, only half as wide, with three rows of seats and wings. My courage completely sinks. I boldly tell the pilot, who already seems to weigh four hundred kilos on his own, that I have heard that he is the best pilot in Suriname. "Nobody's ever said that to me, sir." Away from toughness. Because everything is closely monitored, he looks at us from head to toe and assigns everyone a seat: Joke can sit next to him, the next 'row' is for Wendell and me, Annie and Zoë have to squeeze into the litter box, like the small space between back seat and engine used to be called the Volkswagen Beetle. From now on, movement is no longer possible. Can't talk because of the noise.

It really succeeds in taking off. After a few turns above Paramaribo, which makes Wendell and I bond for life, we are at the right altitude and we follow the Suriname River. The view of the river and the kale jungle below us is incomparable, I must admit. At least, the few times I dared to look through the window. Fortunately, we still have the photos that Joke took. The pilot is busy with his phone during the entire journey. Why doesn't that man just say that he doesn't play games but uses the device to navigate, as Joke said afterwards.

After an hour of flying I see a par-three course in the jungle. I didn't know there was a golf course here too. Well, that's not the case either. It turns out to be the runway of Djoemoe airport, where we end the flight with a slight bump. "I'm glad you flew around all the clouds," I say to the pilot. "Yes, otherwise you'll all wake up in the back." He smiles a little sympathetically when I firmly shake his hand; he knows his pappenheimers. With newfound bravado, we digitally capture ourselves with the winged car as a background, before it takes off on the return flight with a few new faint-hearted people on board.

In retrospect, the taxi ride from the hotel to Zorg en Hoop was less pleasant and probably much more dangerous.