24th - 30th January 2012
Dili to Manatuto
Leaving Dili behind the road soon took us straight into a picture perfect countryside, complete with grazing buffalo, ideal.
It took us only three hours to get to our first overnight stop, Manatuto but the sixty plus kilometres to get there were just superb. The sky hinted at rain but after a few drops halfway through we were home dry, my purple mac and Djalma's cheesy poncho were off as soon as the drops stopped. The road was in good condition, paved with a few minor potholes nothing that our brand new scooter couldn't handle. We followed the coastal road East and it took us past plenty of beaches,we were never far from the sea and up through some rather picturesque hills studded with white limbed green leaved trees. We stopped several times along the way to take photos, many of the small roadside villages that I'd taken note of to stop at because they had something of note to see, we passed straight through – the places were so small we didn't even realise we'd been there. As well as sandy and rocky beaches we passed several empty nativity scenes including the one including in the montage below, complete with a silver wire Christmas tree and silver baubles sitting in a big empty square of dirt with a couple of goats to complete the picture.
Our favourite place that we stopped at was at the top of a hill, we turned off the road and followed a dirt track up to the top and looked down over swathes of long green grass flexing in the wind and more of the trees with the white trunks that were reminiscent of Russia's silver birches. We stayed for a while enjoying the breeze and the incredible views before easing back onto the scooter.
We stopped again at a wild looking beach piled high with driftwood, the odd plastic bottle or flip-flop, the wind was up and the waves were choppy, not really ideal conditions for snorkelling which we gave a miss. In fact the weather along this section of the road to/from Dili from Baucau, which is recommended for snorkelling, was pretty rough when we were leaving and returning so we didn't get to do any of snorkelling stops we'd planned en route.
We pulled up in Manatuto late afternoon, this small town by the sea is most notable for it's staunch support of Freitilin and is therefore a little volatile come election time. Our arrival time coincided with the end of school and the hoards of school children on their way home shouted 'hello', 'boa tarde' and 'MALAY!' it was quite a welcome. After a lot of to-ing and fro-ing to find our green Pousada we ended up following a very kind old gent who walked us to our little hotel when we failed to understand his directions. The Pousada was actually very good and after the high prices and low standards in the capital our clean dry room with a comfortable bed, mosquito net, fan and own bathroom(!) was an especially welcome surprise. We filled up the huge bin/bucket with fresh water before leaving to have a walk round the town while there was still light. We mooched along by the seafront and stopped to look at the boats and the catches of the day being unloaded.
The guys we stopped to watch were all young, incredibly fit and happy to have their photos taken, I took a few snaps and showed the small kids who giggled and pointed themselves out on the screen to their friends. We left them to de-fishing their nets and walked up through the market street, chickens scratched around and noisily made themselves known, pigs snuffled around in yards and ate everything edible and probably many things that weren't (or is it only goats that love to munch on plastic bags?). We stopped to buy some tomatoes and avocados for a little salad, we got our two avocados for 50¢ and a small pile of tomatoes for a little more. With some salt from the hotel and a few limes from another shop we had a very good albeit messy salad for dinner (no sharp knife and only a saucer for our shared plate). We watched a Dexter or two after having a wash and had a excellent nights sleep.
Up early to get on the road we had fresh rolls and fried eggs for breakfast washed down with good Timorese coffee, we paid up waved goodbye to the small group of girls who had delayed their arrival at school to watch us get ready, and finally, hit the road.
Manatuto to Valu Beach
Much like the previous days drive, the road today took us through changing scenery, first through dry hard flats and then up into green hills which wound down into more dried mud fields dotted with small brush trees. The country was sweet, breathing every lungful in was a pleasure, the sun was out but on our bike, the breeze kept us cool. A few UN 4x4 sped passed kicking up small clouds of dust but aside from them and a few other big city/off road cars we had the road to ourselves.
In the shade of trees, huge muddy puddles gave groups of buffalo relief from the heat and we watched as some emerged sleek and grey from the water while those who'd already been out for a while went in to replenish their dry cracking mud clothes, all of them were chewing on something, their jaws moving round in lazy circular motions.
About 20km outside of Manatuto the hills looked out down over a river running out to sea and the road brought us to Laleia and it's pink Portuguese church which looks out over green fields and the road running down through them. It was only 8am by the time we arrived but we didn't stay long, a guy let me in through the rusty wire-mesh gate and I had a little look inside the church. There were two women speaking a conversation prayer? Djalma and I had heard something similar in one of the Orthodox churches in Russia, a line is said by one person and is then answered by the other. Sorry, I wish I knew more, at least what this kind of thing is called (Berna, você sabe?).
I rescued Djalma from the baking sun outside and we drove down the road which snaked past a line of palm trees and into rice paddies filled with grass. We passed a few old guys looking hardier than most young men hoisting tools over their shoulders and striding out towards the fields.
We passed over several bridges that spanned huge, almost dry, river beds and the road started passing through rice paddies. Most of these paddies were filled with long skinny grasses but there were several filled with the brilliant green that can only come from a young rice plant. We passed through Baucau which we decided to visit on the return journey and before long we saw the sea again and we decided to stop for a biscuit break and a dip.
The beach was rocky and the sea was rough so at the beginning I decided to stay out and just let my sweat cool my body (mmmm yum) but looking up at the sound of a whoop I saw Djalma swinging his trunks round his head baring his bottom to the world, well only me, it's not like it was a busy beach. It didn't take me long to decide that it looked like pretty good fun and an excellent idea, before Djalma was out of the water I was down to my bikini and heading into the surf with similar intentions. Wow, the strong surf almost had me on my knees and my bikini bottoms off – the waves were rather powerful – I stayed in long enough to feel the wind whip round my body, wave my top over my head and then head back to safety feeling much refreshed (and a little naughty).
We followed the hot windy road through paddy fields, being overtaken by several trucks or small microlets full of people, we finished drying off in the wind and put off making the decision about where to stop for the day until the next major junction. When I say 'major junction' what I mean is when you have a choice between going left or right, not really all that major at all. Our junction came and we decided to go for broke and see if we could make the Eastern most point of Timor-Leste by evening. We stopped to buy several packets of instant noodles, a multi pack of chocolate energy biscuits, water and some sugary crackers... just in case. The road took us past some beautiful houses and then it started getting a bit worn out and we slowed down to take our time with the multitude of potholes. We'd read that the last 8km were tough going and possibly only for intrepid scooterists or 4x4s, we stopped at Tutuala, the last little village before the beach. We thought that we'd already traversed the really bad last stretch of road and were quite disappointed to have our trusty little scooter eyed disparagingly and firmly told that it would not get us down there (and that there still that last 8km to go). So we left it in a guy's house on the promise to pay a few dollars when we returned to collect it. We took an hour and twenty minutes to cover the last 8km, nearly all of them were steep and most of the road was gone (it would have been possible to get the scooter down there just not with both of us on it). We kept up a good pace and made it to the beach just as it was getting dark.
We walked to the right and found nothing but boats, we followed the road to the left and found the first of the two sleeping options, the community owned hotel. We got ourselves a rickety bungalow that felt as though it might give way underfoot and I went off to find a Mandi (bucket with water to wash). Torch out, clothes off, I tipped a bucket of cold water over me only to find that it was salt-water and that I was possibly better off sticking with my sweat and some baby wipes. I persevered for a couple more buckets but it made my skin too itchy, baby wipes it was. We spoke to the only other guests, an Irish girl and her French boyfriend, over dinner. They had arrived that afternoon and had a swim and we swapped the usual travelling stories etc. Dinner was a carbohydrate fest with huge helping of plain rice, instant noodles, heavily salty greens and some different coloured prawn crackers. There was beer, but it was warm, the electricity pylons following the road down were not yet cabled, so no electricity for us – they had enough for the TV but not for a fridge, err priorities?! It was only 8.30 when we turned in for the night and despite a very long day on the scooter we weren't quite ready for bed, so we tucked our too small mosquito net under the mattress and watched Dexter until the computer battery ran out. Little bugs managed to find their way in, enticed by the bright screen they crawled through goodness knows where and crawled all over the screen, we gave up killing them when there were five, by the time we turned off the computer there were more than twelve.
Valu Beach and Jaco Island
We woke up bright and early the next day, not quite with the sun but near enough, Djalma hit the reefs with his snorkel and my flippers but my stomach was growling and I hit the little restaurant. It's the kind of place where you ask for breakfast/lunch/dinner and they tell you the price and then give you what ever they feel like, there's no bother with choosing. I had a bunch of cold banana fritters and some good coffee with sugar. Djalma was still out snorkelling so I walked over to the other sleeping option, a much more solid looking place with real floors and better mosquito nets, they also had fresh water for washing, nicer toilets, free drinking water, free breakfast AND electricity between 7 and 9 in the evening, I was sold. Also the ladies who ran it were much nicer. It was more expensive than the community run bungalows but after a little bargaining it worked out much better value especially with the drinking water, breakfast and tea/coffee whenever you felt like it. We moved our stuff over and then I joined Djalma in the sea after taking a few pictures of the beach revealed by the outgoing tide.
We spent an hour in the water swimming between the rocky coral outcrops, it was beautiful. We got out and dried off spending a good part of the afternoon sitting in comfy chairs reading out of date magazines. In the afternoon the tide came in which meant that there was no strolling along the beach to see the sunset from the far corner, instead Djalma went for another swim and I followed him from the path, daydreaming about possible future wardrobe options. While I waited at the end of the beach for him to get out of the water I sat and watched dozens of hermit crabs of varying size crawl across the beach, taking pictures took patience, they were careful little critters.
I spent the next day sleeping off the runs and Djalma spent most of his day in the water. We watched Aragon in the afternoon, a couple of episodes of Dexter and I worked on photos. We had another carb-fest for dinner and then watched The Legend of the Drunken Master, a Jackie Chan classic.
The next day, our final day on Valu Beach, we walked to the fishing boats at 8am and then waited for to hours for someone to show up and take us out to Jaco Island. With my mind fully on clothes, I can't say I minded the wait all that much, I mean it wasn't great but if you could see the dresses/skirts/tops/fabulous jeans/endless pairs of shoes I was dreaming of then I think you would have been just as happy as me. Eventually a boat did turn up, they small catch of fish was offloaded and Djalma and I piled in, it took less than ten minutes and 6USD each to get there and we promptly set off exploring.
The wrong way. We had assumed, incorrectly, from aerial photos of Jaco Island that it would be possible to walk the circumference without a problem, wrong. We walked for an hour following the wild and beautiful exposed coral bed to find that the last corner was covered in water and some heavy surf was pounding the short cliff wall. To be fair, the route we took was gorgeous, it was a sunny day and the rocky coastline made a million small rock pools sheltering dozens of shy crabs.
We found loads of big conch shells and Djalma had the idea of creating his Venus shot and so we stood for ages in the sun, waiting while he experimented with the right angle and distance to get this shot. I must confess I drew the line when he wanted to do it more authentically (i.e. topless) but I do like the photo.
It took us a little while to retrace our footsteps, crossing through the island was out of the question; the interior was virgin bush, but our last half an hour we spent on the white gold sand to the West side of the island and just a few minutes from where we were dropped off. True to form we also spent that time not talking to each other, I'm not sure how we manage to get on each others nerves quite so much when we're in such beautiful places, it's a talent I guess. Our boat was a little late coming to get us and the water on the way back was choppy, I was a bit anxious and gripped Djalma's hand until we were through the worst (it didn't take that long) but I was quite relived to step on something that didn't move. Good solid land. We finished packing our stuff, had a quick wash, ate lunch and started walking back up the hill.
Tutuala to Baucau
We walked for an hour before we were picked up by four Portuguese guys in a 4x4. I promised I would them a special mention (although I did tell them that no-one except our parents read my blog) there was the second most important man in Timor-Leste, a priest (who I think told naughty jokes for most of the two hour trip) and the two architects who sat in the back and spoke to me; António Sousa and Joaquim Vieira de Magalhães (I'm even fairly confident that I've got their names written correctly, but not the jobs). Once we got up to Tutuala Djalma got our scooter while I stayed in the car with the guys and in much greater comfort. We drove up to a recently built Portuguese style Pousada freshly painted in a bright shade of peach/orange where there were some beautiful views out to sea.
I stayed in the car with these lovely blokes and we drove for more than an hour to the crossroads where I got out of the boot and back on the scooter. By this point we had all exchanged numbers and had been invited to a big feast Antonio, who is also a chef with his own restaurant in Porto, was cooking the next day. Djalma and I made it to Com just after dark. We got a room in a real home-stay (in Indonesia it seems that home-stay is just another way of saying hotel) helped change the sheets and clean the room and after crackers for dinner went to bed.
The next morning we had plans for Baucau but we weren't in much of a rush because Nicole who had kindly given us a room to sleep in, wouldn't be there until evening. So I sat drinking a coffee with milk, an unusual thing these days due to the lack of it, and wrote up several pages for my diary, reliving the joys of our Balinese road trip and looking out to sea. We left around midday leaving behind the beautiful beach with warnings of crocs' and 'gators for the main Portuguese settlement in Timor-Leste.
It was about three hours back to Baucau and we stopped only once having passed through exactly the same way several days before. We parked our scooter outside a café and had lunch while we waited. Djalma had a beer, the first since arriving in Timor-Leste, Nicole showed up and we cracked open a couple more cold ones each and got chatting. It was another brilliant introduction to a place. We headed back to her place to cook dinner with a few of her friends. We all sat outside and ate spaghetti with fresh wild mushrooms in a tomato sauce and a salad. It was so nice, we sat outside, providing food to the mozzies and chatted until it was time for bed.
Djalma and I decided to head down to see the local beach on the recommendation of Andre, a Portuguese friend of Nicole's who'd said that he though it was the most beautiful beach in Timor-Leste. So after a breakfast instant noodles and chocolate energy biscuits we headed off down the scenic road to the sea.
We took almost an hour, I wasn't feeling too wonderful, suffering from serious PMS – fortunately for Djalma this just meant I was quiet and bloated, not angry and in his face (as can sometimes happen...). The road down was beautiful, small houses intermittently lined the roads and green trees abounded, the gutter carrying fresh spring water safely out of harms way flowed with mountain water providing a musical backdrop for our slow stroll.
We said bom dia to everyone and took plenty of photos of children who either posed after we asked or posed after asking for one. We eventually made it to the beach, which was nice but I guess after such a glowing recommendation we were half expecting a place that looked more like a postcard and maybe had free cocktails on arrival. The beach was nice enough, I sat in the shade with my horrible bloated abdomen while Djalma went for a dip in the water, we walked along to the right and onto the next beach which was all pebbles, after that there was more sand but we decided to head back and explore the beaches to the left.
We stopped for an ice-cold fizzy pop and then continued to the other side of the beach, this showed more promise, a dirt track wound up and we passed goats with their kids on the way to a stretch of honey gold sand. We walked along the beach following it as far as we could before turning back. Feeling rather hot and uncomfortable we decided to head back and after another coke and a sprite we headed back up the steep road.
Back at the house we had a wash and then deliberated on where to have dinner, Nicole came home from work and suggested the Pousada, recommending the steaks and the Gin and Tonics. Sold. We decided to head there together and we tucked into some enormous G&T's while waiting for our three 'bife mustardos' (mustard steaks) to arrive.
It was gorgeous, everything was gorgeous, the Pousada is probably the nicest place in town to sleep and the restaurant was lovely as well, if we'd wanted there was plenty of Portuguese wine on offer as well. When the steak arrived it was soaked in a creamy mustard sauce and accompanied by a pile of golden chips, the salad joined us soon after. The gin, the steak, the conversation was excellent. We decided another G&T was a good idea and we shared a crème brulee for desert before meeting up with some more of Nicole's in a another restaurant called Amalia. We sat and talked to people until 11ish and by then we were more than ready ready for bed, it was a beautiful evening. After an episode of Dexter we were sleeping like the Dead.
We woke the next morning hangover free but feeling a bit washed out, we didn't leave until mid-morning and we returned to Amalia where Djalma had another steak, this time with a coffee sauce (it sounds odd but the coffee wasn't that strong - I suspect that it was actually mushroom sauce instead) and I had a big bowl of spinach spaghetti. Actually I only had half, Djalma had everything that I couldn't finish. We met up with Nicole and went to see where she worked, here on an Australian volunteer project she helps a local organisation to become more independent and to work more efficiently, her boss gave me a Timor-Leste scarf thing which will go on display somewhere in our apartment (when we finally get there!). We said goodbye and swung by the Pousada to pick up some Bolinhos, small cakes/biscuits, for Zeshi, a friend of Nicole's who had agreed to put us up for our last two nights in Dili. Baucau was full of school children and people out in their Sunday best for a local Saints Day, the place was packed.
Baucau to Dili
30th January - 2nd February 2012
The trip back to Dili took about four hours, we drove hard and stopped only once, at our favourite place – the windy hilltop looking out over the sea. We demolished one of the packs of home-made biscuits, drank some water and hastily put on our ponchos as it started to rain. The next hour we got soaked, my huge trousers legs hungrily soaked up all the water from the road and the spray from the wheels and they clung to my ankles whenever I got off the bike to allow Djalma to more easily negotiate a muddy stretch.
Back in Dili we contacted Zeshi, who came and met us to take us back to her big warm, dry apartment. She showed us to our room, opened up her kitchen to us and even had a washing machine that was free to use. It was like arriving in heaven. We cooked another spaghetti dinner together and waited for her Australian friend Georgia to arrive (Nicole and Zeshi are also Australian). We sat down and tucked into aubergine and tomato pasta and then had mangostines and sesame sweets for pudding before playing a few rounds of Sets, a game that I was very slow to get. I think everyone was feeling rather tired and I didn't even want to watch a Dexter before going to sleep – yes actually that tired.
Wednesday rolled round and Djalma and I got up and shared a coffee with Zeshi before she went to work. I worked on postcards for Bali and Timor-Leste and then we headed out for a Timorese lunch. Djalma chose the good stuff while I managed to make some not very good choices, after eating we went to the Indonesian Embassy to collect our passports and visas. Djalma dropped me back at Zeshi's house and went to return our faithful scooter, on the way back picking up a new trimmer and biscuits for the twelve hour road trip back to Indonesia for the following day. We pretty much watched Dexter all evening, giving Zeshi some space to call home. We were up nice and early the next day to get our minivan to Kupang. We were so lucky to have had the opportunity to meet Nicole and through her Zeshi, not only did we save a little money on accommodation, we also, and most importantly, met some great people. We said goodbye to Zeshi and were sent off with a carrier bag of shortbread biscuit, a brown baguette, apples and bananas and a carton of apple juice (a good portion of which I managed to spill down my freshly washed clothes).
Our trip back top Kupang was uneventful, we mainly followed the coastal road through Timor-Leste most of which was in fairly good condition despite plenty of potholes and some small landslides which had been swept to the side of the narrow road. About mid-morning it started to rain and it made us feel better knowing that we weren't spending a day of glorious sunshine getting from A to B but a typical monsoon free for all. We stopped for lunch and a wee after the border, which was just your average border crossing; bureaucratic and boring. We made it to Kupang around 10pm which meant a good 13.5 hours in a van. We got dropped off at the airport, which was tiny and for the most part, closed. We found a door with a light on and decided to settle down for the night in the prayer room, with plenty of mosquito spray and our bags gathered close we bedded down for the night on the very hard floor getting as much sleep as possible. Around 5am the odd person started coming in to pray and we though it best to leave them to it, after a cup of tea we checked in and waited for our flight.
The journey was short and sweet, we got a good look at some of the islands in-between snoozing and eating the complimentary white tasteless bun filled with brown stuff of undetermined origin, we left the slice of moist yellow and green cake.
Touching down at the worlds smallest airport, or at least a contender for the title, we were treated to a very sunny, palm tree filled runway and were baked on our way to the building where we waited to snatch our bags off the short conveyor belt which ended in a drop to the floor, genius. We got on the back of a couple of scooters and enjoyed the 9km ride into the main town, Kalabahi where we found a tiny corner room within our price range that didn't smell of damp, It was however, covered in bird shit. More about that later.
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