This is a dirty rotten trick. A single photo. My way of telling you that I have now not only retrieved my photos, but have managed to find them full-sized. And I am so very pleased. And it is so very late.

Here is one picture, of the boatman loading my and L (an anthropologist I met at the birdsong competition, more on this later)’s rented bikes onto the ferry from Paramaribo to an outlying district across the Suriname river called Commewijne, where we rode, got lost, took shelter from a pounding rainstorm under a bush, did the Punjabi hand lift dance move when really loud Punjabi music zoomed by in a car, watched Javanese (Indonesian) boys tool up and down straight stretches on motorbikes, bought water at a Chinese-owned shop from a guy who spoke pretty good English, and wondered for more than a minute where we were. And then we got to Fort Nieuw Amsterdam and we knew. Oh right, it’s Suriname. Here’s a very small peek. Not symbolic of the whole trip, just the first one I saw that made me say, “that one.”