Maubisse

After a day in hot dusty Dili, I decided to head to the mountains for some cool air. The taxi driver left me on the side of some random road to wait for a bus going to Maubisse. After ten minutes no bus came along so I went to ask a random truck driver, who was quite enthusiastic and encouraged me to climb into the truck. Note to self, if climbing up the side of the truck into the back is rather difficult, it may be a sign from god that bumping down a pot hole track in a truck isn't the best idea.

But anyway I got in and ended up sitting on the floor next to a billie goat whose legs were tied up and it was forced to lie on its side. It bleated softly at first, but as the truck went around the mountains it got about as motion sick as me and started vomiting. Then it was screaming and gasping like it was having a stroke. It was just about how I was feeling too.

The truck was totally packed - the entire back cabin was taken up with women and children sitting on two wooden planks along the sides of the trucks, with men hanging off the sides and the back. Eventually I got upgraded to sitting on a bag of rice after a couple of vomiting girls got off, and about half an hour from Maubisse I even landed a seat on the planks, next to an old man holding his prized rooster like it was a baby.

The road was pretty rough, at some points leaving one wondering where the road actually was amongst the potholes. The steep winding around the hills made me want to vomit so I had to close my eyes. Intermittently when I opened them I would see lush green rice paddies, beautiful coconut and banana trees and the odd coffee tree. Children and animals played in the dirt, occasionally chasing the trucks down just for fun.

The main monument in Maubisse, next to a Fretilin flag

Four and a half hours later (depressingly, Maubisse is only 70km from Dili!), we arrived in a bustling market. But I felt so sick that I decided to go for a walk. The poussada (guesthouse in old Portugese building ) was set high up on a hill, overlooking Maubisse. The 10 minute walk up the hill was beautiful and one was rewarded with breathtaking views over the mountains. Halfway up there is a small memorial commemorating deaths in the local area, one of many I would see in Timor. The poussada is set amongst ruined walls of a Portugese era fort, and has a really abandoned feel to it.

 Steps up to the poussada

I went down to the market again but it was packing up for the day, everyone was getting into trucks to go back to their own villages, so I ended up having lunch with a bunch of UN police at one of the only eating joints in town. A strange old man who clearly wasn't part of the UN but was wearing some faux police jacket came up and started talking to me, then started shaking my hand vigorously whilst sporting a toothless grin. He insisted on buying me a bottle of water, which I guess was nice of him..

Man passing his chicken up the truck

There wasn't actually anything to do in Maubisse, which was just perfect. So I sat on my little verandah at the poussada, reading The World According to Garp, which reminded me of when I did anaesthetics last year and Dr Ferris was telling me about John Irving books. Dinner was served in the massive dining room (there's a lounge with old-school leather couches too) and I was the only guest. Rice, green beans and "Timorese steak", which was a steak marinated in tomato & onion salsa then grilled and served with the salsa reduced. It was pleasant enough though the steak was hard to chew.

 At the poussada

I woke in the morning to the sun casting a lovely soft light on everything. Breakfast was the most wonderful chewy bread rolls, still slightly warm.

I was happy after breakfast, so I dawdled down to the town to get the bus back to Dili. I sat in front of the market waiting for the bus to come, and vowed that I wouldn't go back to Dili on the back of a truck again (especially since the people at the poussada were adamant that no-one goes on trucks, everyone goes on buses!) I waited and waited, and eventually saw the "policeman" from the day before, who clutched my hand and semi dragged me across the road to a toothless woman with stained gums from betel chewing. I couldn't understand anything she said, but eventually (after trying to put me in a refridgeration truck) she shoved me on the back of an ute, and despite my vows that I wouldn't go back to Dili on a truck... I went back on the back of an ute which was probably worse...

Because when we went through several towns, there were convoys of trucks carrying lots of men, and lots of them had guns. I felt pretty exposed, the only foreigner on the back of an ute. But luckily I didn't get shot and made it back to the mindbogglingly luxurious hotel in Dili where I was to meet Namiko and Jade.

East Timor: random first day in Dili

I flew to Dili early one Saturday morning. The flight was just one hour and ten minutes, and it felt like we hardly had time to scoff down our pastries before we were landing. We walked out onto the tarmac and into the single square building that is the airport, waited at the only conveyor belt, and pretty soon I was in the "waiting area" which was just a handful of plastic chairs out in the open air.

I had no idea where I was headed, but on the flight I decided I would try to get to Atauro Island on the ferry that morning. It was early so I took a taxi to the wharf, thinking I'd just wait for the ferry there. When I got there, hundreds of people were trying to push their way onto the wharf, frantically waving their pre-purchased tickets. I had no hope of getting a ferry ticket, so I gave up and went for a walk instead. I wasn't carrying much stuff, so it was nice to walk in the early morning (relative) coolness.

Some deserted blocks later, I made my way to the only backpackers place in East Timor - the East Timor backpackers, run by a Pom and his Timorese wife. As I walked in, they were trying to chop down a tree full of beautiful yellow flowers, a rather strange activity for Saturday morning, I thought. After a short nap I spent the whole morning talking to some random guy working as a volunteer for Arte Moris, a local organisation supporting young Timorese artists. He had finished university in Brisbane and decided to move to Dili - he seemed like the archetypal wanderer, so by the time I finished talking to him I felt like I was back on the road wandering too.

Eventually I went for a walk around town in the almost unbearable midday heat. Near the water it was not too bad, but everywhere else the air was so still that it was almost suffocating. Everything seemed to be closed, and there were not many people walking on the streets. I walked along the waterfront where people hid under huge banyan trees and drank coconuts, then I had lunch of fried fish and fish curry at a padang style joint.

Dili was strange to walk around - most of the time it was just hot, dusty and unpleasant, but one would come across some strange surprises. Sometimes, turning a corner, one would suddenly see the hills that surround Dili, and it was actually pretty picturesque.

Also there were a number of colourful murals around the place, a lot of them with a Tour de Timor theme. I guess the bike riders or organisers must have painted them.

And once in a while there would be pretty trees and flowers, such as this one near the cathedral.

The strangest surprise for me was when I went back to the hostel and sat drinking iced tea. The men who had chopped down the tree with yellow flowers earlier in the day were busy building a shelter-like structure out of palm leaves. After laying down the layers of palm, they had to trim the shelter, which they did with a machete and a mango stick! Sitting under the palm cover once it was done, it exuded a sweet smell which reminded me of rain in the wet season.

So I drank iced tea, gazed at the sky and unwound. At sundown I went for another walk, but I was uncertain about the safety situation so I stuck near the hostel and had a masala dosa for dinner.

I saw lots of UN vehicles that day, both standard ones (so easy to spot white Landcruisers) and UN police vehicles. I had my first taste of the demonstrations - there was a peaceful protest in the city centre, where lots of people old and young marched through the streets carrying signs. At this protest I did not feel uncomfortable to watch (unlike others later), so I stood on a corner near the National University and watched the hordes of UN police carrying heavy weapons direct the protest away from the city centre. How surreal it was..