Timor Leste (East Timor)
After a rather uneventful flight we actually arrived in Kupang at a reasonable time which, as we've mentioned before, is practically unheard of in Indonesia. We immediately set out to secure a hotel room. With our trusted Lonely Planet in hand, we commenced our search only to quickly discover that all the hotels were fully booked due to a conference for all government employees! I finally found a very low-end option that wasn't too unacceptable (Lee had given up in despair, and was waiting with our bags), and after collecting Lee and our bags, we started the long walk up the hill to get there. But fate intervened, and we met a man who had a friend with a guest house and an available room. Normally, we wouldn't have fallen for this ploy but we were only halfway up the hill, his friend's guesthouse was down the hill, and it was cheaper than the dive we were headed to, so we thought we might as well check it out. While not great, it was available and (as mentioned previously) cheap, and as we were only staying one night we decided to take it. Another bit of good luck was that the owner was able to help us arrange our transport to Timor Leste (East Timor). After a couple of phone calls, he told us that the minibus would pick us up at our accommodations the following morning at the ungodly time of 5:00am.
Now when people in Indonesia tell you a pick-up time, you could add a couple of hours, sleep in and still be early. After travelling in Indo for three weeks, we should have known this but, like newbies, we were up at the crack of dawn and waiting in front of our accommodations ten minutes before the appointed hour. When the shuttle still hadn't shown up by 7:00am, we started getting a little nervous. Lee finally convinced me to go and look for a phone to try to call the company. Of course, by the time I locate a phone (with the help of a local guy), I see the shuttle zooming past us towards our guesthouse.
With the driver being late and having to rush to reach the border before it closes for the day, he puts pedal-to-the-metal, and the 10-hour ride to Dili is anything but fun with high speed twist and turns through the mountains. We finally arrive in Dili -- after a brief stop at the border check-point which is basically a tin shack -- and, as always, it's getting dark. Luckily, our driver drops us right at the front gate of the hotel we were looking to stay it. Unluckily, we notice after he pulls away that the hotel is looking awfully dark and deserted. We eventually locate a guy walking around by the light of his cell phone, who gets the owner, and, finally, we're checked in. Being rather hungry after a long day with little food, we decide to head to town to get some dinner. The owner suggests that a taxi is easiest, and tells us the price (US$1 to go downtown). We decide on a slightly more upmarket place that seems to be busy (once we got settled at a table and looked around, we noticed that all the patrons were white westerners -- we later realize that they are all foreign aid workers). After a fantastic dinner of pizza and salad, we leave the restaurant around 10:00pm and discover that the streets are completely and utterly deserted. No one is around, the streets are very dark (the street lights are placed very far apart), there are no cars, and there are definitely no taxis.
We ask at the desk in front of the restaurant where we can find a taxi and he indicates heading towards a few lights down a dark street. Feeling a little nervous, we head in that direction, which also happens to be in the direction of where we're staying. We get to the next set of lights, but there are still no signs of any taxis. With our hearts in our throats we decide to walk the 3KM towards our accommodation in the hope of spotting one on the way. This has generally worked for us in the past. But there are still no taxis and so we keep on walking. The occassional motorbike passes us (going in the opposite direction), and there are small clusters of young men hanging out in the light of the widely spaced street lights. By the time, we're both feeling somewhat nervous as this is exactly what we should not be doing: walking around in a deserted area that is unfamiliar after dark. And we weren't even 100% sure we were going in the right direction! Finally, after what seems like forever, we come across a few familiar landmarks, and shortly after that we arrive at the gates of our accommodations. Lee told me that the time we arrived (11:00pm, an hour after we had left the restaurant), was the time she had told herself she could start to panic!
Despite our slightly harrowing introduction to Timor Leste, we ultimately found it to be a wonderful country. The people were nothing but friendly to us (although not as much to each other; there is a Civil Unrest number, seriously, it's 7230686). Indeed, on our long walk home in the dark on that first night we were greeted with friendly "Bonne Noits" (good evening) from several of the clusters of men in the dark.
Getting up early the next morning we decide to only explore the city doing the day, and after a hearty breakfast of Timorese coffee and Portuguese pao (bread), we're on our way. Life has returned to the city, and one of the first things we notice is that practically every car is a big white Toyota being driven by a foreigner, and that one out of three is a UN Police vehicle. Maybe this whole East Timor was not such a great idea after all! But while exploring the city we find the locals to either be shyly friendly or completely indifferent to our presence -- quite a change from the more aggressive "friendliness" encountered in Indonesia and other developing countries!
Wanting a closer look at the island of Atauro (located just north of Dili), but not willing to rely on the sporadic ferry crossings, we book a dive trip with a local dive company for two days hence. After a hot day of walking around (we thought we would save the cost of taxi fares!), we arrived back at our hotel (well before dark!) and got to talking with the owner of the hotel. We later find out that Pedro (the owner) is actually a bit of a local celebrity, as his hotel used to house foreign journalists during the Indonesian oppression of East Timor. He's also mentioned more than a few times in the Australian journalist John Martinkus' book, A Dirty Little War, which chronicles this time in East Timor's history.
After a couple more days exploring Dili, we embark on our scuba adventure. What is fast becoming obvious to us is that East Timor is not high on anyone's travel itinerary; there is only one other tourist on the boat and he's also the only one we meet during our week here. And while waiting in line for the ATM, the lady ahead of us was so surprised when we told her we were travellers that her jaw practically dropped and she did a double take! That's not to say that we're the only "white" faces in town. The place is crawling with foreigners ... they just all happen to be foreign aid workers.
The diving ended up not being that great, but it wasn't that bad either. But just to remind us that we are not in some carefree tropical locale, during our surface interval the captain received a text message (all foreigners are hooked up to a network that updates them on what is going on in the city) saying that the airport has been shut down due to riots, and that there have been some casualties. Although Lee and I are quite taken aback by the news, which is imparted to us in a blase "here's the weather" tone of voice, it all appears to be business as usual for everyone else. No one even bats an eye; they just get on with the diving.
Finally having had enough of Dili, and being told by many that we can't judge East Timor by Dili alone, we decide to take a day trip to the mountain town of Maubisse. After an early 5:00am start, we eventually locate the bus station. Or, more accurately, the street where all the buses appear to leave from. This also appears to be a major market area, and a lot of locals are setting up their tables of local wares for sale. Because we left our accommodations so early we did not receive our usual complimentary breakfast, so we decided to get some food at the market. To our joy we spot a guy selling the very delicious pao that we had not had any luck in finding previously. Lee asks him for the price, and he responds by putting up one finger. Does this mean $1? And, if yes, how many do we get for $1? After a couple of confusing seconds, we decide to just get what he gives us and we nod yes to him. He smiles and starts throwing buns in a big bag, and he doesn't stop until it's full of twelve warm and chewy rolls. Not sure if we're paying the right amount, Lee gives him the $1. He smiles and waves us away. Wow! Twelve buns for only $1! Delicious and cheap!! Well provisioned we get on the first bus, only to be cajoled into getting on a pick-up truck that seems to have more people on it and is further up the road (which we took to mean being at the head of the line). There do not appear to be any schedules in this country and, like in Indonesia, transportation just leaves when it's full. We must have filled the quota because after getting on the pick-up we leave right away. Which is good, because it's pretty full. The 70KM ride ends up taking three-and-a-half hours. But it was through winding roads that afforded amazing views down into Dili and the surrounding countryside.
Maubisse lives up to its reputation, and we settle in for lunch at a traditional Portuguese Posada which is located on its own peak and has 360 degree view of the surroundings. Again, we're the only customers, but this was due to the fact that it was midweek. (Apparently, the place is packed with foreign aid workers on the weekend.) The proprietor is very friendly; he moves us to a table on the veranda and serves us a giant meal of chicken with rice and vegetables (one of only two items on the menu). After lunch we walked the grounds and enjoyed the quiet.
The ride back is another adventure. We take another pick-up truck; this one practically empty so we're able to stand up and hang onto the railing in order to enjoy the fresh air (sort of like a dog with its head hanging out a car window). Unfortunately, it seems like one of the other passengers is planning on building something, because we keep having to stop at these "wood stalls" along the way. These are no Home Depot. They are, literally, long planks of wood, bundled together, and laid along the side of the road. Periodically, we would stop at one of these stops, and the driver and the guy doing the buying would get out and go through the bundles, find something that was acceptable, and pile them into the back of the pickup.
After less than a week in East Timor, it's time to leave, which makes us rather sad as we have come to like this unusual country. It might very well be on every country's foreign department's list of "Places Not to Visit", but we truly enjoyed our time there and are already looking forward to going back one day.
For more photos, see our East Timor photo album.
