Fun fact to start with: imagine you're strolling through Paramaribo on a Sunday morning and you pass a park. You're puzzled — it's full of men. Multicultural, all ages. Each one holding a small wooden cage with a songbird inside. What on earth are they doing?

The men place their cages on wooden poles. A judge marks on a chalkboard how many melodies each bird sings in fifteen minutes. Which one has the most beautiful voice? Victory and defeat are accepted in quiet collegiality. No cheering. No disappointment.

This is an important tradition for the men of Paramaribo, and it says a lot about them. They are a multicultural people who get along well and hold strong ties to their traditions. You sense it immediately: community matters here.

Paramaribo sits on the Suriname River in the northeast of South America, tucked between Guyana and French Guiana. Its historic city centre — 291 preserved buildings from the 17th and 18th centuries — has been a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 2002. The architecture is a hybrid: Dutch colonial style, built from tropical timber because, well, you're in the tropics.

You wander through the streets, colourful colonial villas on either side — and then, suddenly, a completely different kind of building. A mosque. Or a synagogue. This mix is something extraordinary to see: structures from entirely different worlds standing on the same block, looking as though they've always belonged together.

At the beginning, there were the indigenous peoples. Then came the Dutch — and with them, the sugar cane plantations. To work them, they shipped enslaved Africans to Suriname. Forced labour, decade after decade, until abolition in 1863. After that, the plantations needed workers again. So the Dutch brought contract labourers — from British India, from Java. The Indians brought Hinduism. The Javanese brought Islam.

But the Africans made a different choice. Many fled into the rainforest. There, they built their own communities, kept their West African traditions alive — and still do today. They are called the Maroons. One of the most fascinating stories in this region — and one of the least told.

Five religions. At least six languages on the street. All of this in a city of 250,000 people. Not always without conflict — but a coexistence that works. You can feel it.

What surprised me most was the hospitality of the people. Everyone will share with you — even when they don't have enough for themselves. It still feels very much based on community, and that's pretty nice to experience when you're used to European standards.

— Tom, who was there

The Markets

So many cultures living together means markets — and on these markets, you can find absolutely everything. The Central Market on the Waterkant is the largest covered market in the Caribbean: fruit, fish, meat, spices, clothing, household goods. Right next to it sits the Djoeka Wojo, the Maroon Market, where women sell healing herbs from the rainforest, ritual objects and tonics — somewhere between pharmacy and sacred space. You can't stop looking; every corner holds something new, something strange.

Those who want to go deeper head to Blauwgrond, the Javanese quarter.

People host restaurants from their garden. You come in and order food like normal but it's all connected to where the owner lives. The mix of cultures and food is very much felt there.

— Tom, who was there

Warungs, these small family-run spots are called. Gado Gado, Lontong Goele, Saoto soup — Javanese cuisine that has grown in this tropical climate for over a hundred years. Dinner for two: around 25 dollars.

Market life in Paramaribo — multicultural, alive, real. © Tom Gobee

Sunday Morning — Birds, Markets, Four Centuries

Anyone spending a Sunday in Paramaribo should get up early. At half past seven the Sunday Market Tour begins at Independence Square — starting with the songbird competitions. Then: the Chinese market, the Javanese market, the orchid market. In five hours you walk through four centuries of immigration history, with breakfast somewhere in between.

The songbird competitions are perhaps the strangest and most beautiful thing here. A well-trained bird can be worth 8,000 dollars; exceptional ones have sold for 20,000. The men train their birds with recordings, acclimatise them to city noise, bring them to competitions every week — since the 1950s, in a league with 17 clubs in the region alone. Where the tradition comes from, nobody knows for certain. Some say: Chinese immigrants. Others: the jungle. Both sound like Paramaribo.

Brownsberg — Two Hours Away, Another World

It is remarkable how quickly you can leave Paramaribo and find yourself in empty, untouched jungle. About two hours south of the city — the last half hour on an unpaved road through the forest — lies Brownsberg National Park. 12,000 hectares of rainforest on a plateau, 500 metres above sea level. No big tour buses. No crowds. Marked trails, but you take a guide anyway — this is not a walk in the park. This is real jungle.

All eight monkey species of Suriname live here. Howler monkeys, capuchins, spider monkeys. Plus waterfalls, jaguar tracks, the magic of ancient trees.

This was the best experience I had in Suriname. To be guided through the actual wild jungle was something I would recommend to everyone. But you need a guide. You need a guide.

— Tom, who was there

Departure just before seven in the morning, back by evening. A long day — and from everything Tom says, the right one.

Waterfall in Brownsberg National Park — two hours from Paramaribo. © Tom Gobee

The magic of the jungle: ancient trees in Brownsberg National Park. © Tom Gobee