Sights of Dili.

Some of these I have mentioned before, others not. It makes up some of what strikes me as different about this place.

Radiating out from the city centre, they are repaving all the footpaths with hexagonal pavers, usually in red and black, but sometimes also including yellow, the three (main) colours of the flag.

You see quite a few flags around. Most are East Timorese, but a large number are Fretilin flags. Fretilin is the largest party in East Timor (currently in opposition against a ‘unity’ coalition) and was the key political party representing armed resistance to the Indonesian occupation.

Children fly kites quite a bit here, to impressive heights. I haven’t seen the construction close up, but the string appears to be light fishing line and the kites are made principally out of discarded plastic shopping bags.

I have not seen refrigerated (iced) fish anywhere except in restaurants, and even that wasn’t top notch fresh. The man in this photo with fish on a shoulder pole had just finished rinsing them in the sea to wash away some of the smell.





The way oranges are sold is again off the pole, but they are bundled up in a really elegant way.

Children here are very openly joyous and free. At the same time, family discipline and hierarchy are very strictly observed.

The local bird here appears to be the Australian sparrow, which is a definite improvement over the Indian mynah. I’ve also seen some pretty large pigeons.

The earth near Dili has red Australian tones and there are plenty of eucalypts. Eucalypts and palm trees is an odd combination for me.

But I am continually struck by the demure, sidesaddle, scooter passengers, ankles crossed and often nursing a child.

I’ll write about this more…

Lazy Sunday afternoon

As readers know, I live in a sports bar. This is not as bad as it sounds, particularly at lunchtime on Sunday. The football is up at one end of the bar and I’m at the other, looking out to sea. Vendors move slowly, sticking to the shade as much as possible, and families saunter up and down.

There are three main types of vendors. Some have pushcarts or tricycles and sell a range of snacks, drinks (including beer), cigarettes, phone cards etc. Then there are the guys who walk the streets with a pole across their shoulders. From each end of the pole hang such things as fish, bananas, mangos, potted plants, live birds, bundles of oranges, bags of limes – a wide variety. You buy something from them and they cut the string attaching it to the pole and off you go. The third type are the likely lads, who wander the street selling tourist trash for 4 times its fair price – tais cloth, Timor Leste baseball caps, lanyards for hanging your pass on, cheap jewellery, banknotes from the previous regime etc. And, of course, cigarettes and phone cards.

From here I can see the port, boats, Ataúro Island and a wide sweep of ocean. Some days, although not today, the waters are brilliant blues and azures. Last night’s downpour has flushed a lot of mud into the harbour, dulling the colours.

There is a wind chime near where I am that, although soft, drowns out most of the noise from the televised rugby except the roar and the whistle when a try is scored.

Down on the beach, small children have entirely stripped off and are jumping up and down in the shallows. The boys seems to bathe naked up till perhaps 8 years old or so – the girls cover up at a much earlier age.

Some fishermen have pulled up their boat. Some are sorting and mending their nets, and one is cooking. Although from here I couldn’t possibly make out the details it is almost a certainty that they are boiling rice and chargrilling small sardine sized fish on skewers. I didn’t see them offload their main catch.

It really is peaceful.

I'm here!

So I’ve landed in Dili and so far it’s gone well. All my bags arrived! The customs guy eventually conceded that maybe I didn’t need to pay duty on a 3 year old coffee machine or a 3 year old printer. And no, I didn’t have the purchase invoices. The guys from the Department picked me up and brought me to my digs where there was no one in the office, it being Sunday. They nevertheless got the key and we moved in.

They had taken off before I realised that there was no kitchenette and the room was pretty sparsely furnished. Not what I had paid for, and not very like the photos. Later things got better. I spent of lot of time walking around the local area and bought a little fruit (bananas! bush limes!) and just taking in the sights without trying to form too many impressions. There’s more variation in skin colour than I expected although less than the Solomons, and some of the people have that same elegant posture that I missed while back in Australia.

I met quite a few people, including several Dili hash regulars such as Footrot and Wal, a newbie named Whip Me, Beat Me who had singularly managed to attend his first Hash, get named and be awarded PoTW all on the same run, a couple of construction workers who talked fishin’, fightin’ and other stuff involving the letter f, some fairly inebriated but very pleasant folks celebrating a significant birthday, and the owner of the establishment, Gil. Gil blamed my accommodation on the travel agent, who is currently in Bali and can’t be contacted. In other unpleasant news the internet was slow (no surprise) and not free (as promised by the same travel agent).

And tomorrow, I start the new job. I’m unwilling to really unpack as I might be moving rooms. If I’m lucky.