Zen and the art of weekend excursions

Further up the beach, I could almost see the lattes and muffins laid out in front of expats relaxing on the weekend. I knew they’d be there, because that’s been me – chatting, reading and speaking in my most favourite of all languages, English.

But this Sunday I was at the other end of the beach, dragging four squealing kids through the water – two on each hand. At various other points I was also acting as a human diveboard, leveraging the kids so they could fly briefly through the air before landing in the water. I was also patiently waiting my turn to receive my ration of the rice we’d bought with us, in the taxi, in the huge orange bowl we normally wash dishes in. We’d also bought juice, an omelette, spaghetti, sausages and tempe.

The spread

Oh, and eight children. Did I mention the eight overexcited children?

So far, living in Timor-Leste has been one slow surrender to the kids next door. Not content with Sunday night dinners, we’ve expanded our repertoire to include birthday cakes, videoke, dance-offs and shopping at the local market. It was only a matter of time before we ventured further afield – to the brown sands of Areia Branca/Pasir Putih, a short trip east of Dili (despite the name, white sand, the beach features what can only be described as ordinary, normal-coloured sand).

Excursion mode of transport: taxi

With the words of the scary child protection lady at pre-departure training echoing in my head (“never, ever, let the local kids inside your house”), I decided to just go with the flow because let’s face it, we crossed that line months ago.

This is how we roll

After unpacking the food, eating the food, swimming, posing for 100+ photos, swimming again, swapping sunglasses, eating again, swimming again, eating again… (you get the idea) we dragged some very reluctant kids back to Dili with us.

By the time we made it back to our place (we got a lift with someone’s uncle – now who’s feeling like a ten year old?), I think my eyes were somewhat glazed by the constant barrage of Tetun, games in the water and the frequent head counts (“Where is naked boy? Have you seen naked boy?” when we thought we’d lost our youngest member).

The crystal clear waters of Pasir Putih

Back at home I did get some special treatment from the kids, who must have realized they’d pushed me to my limits – “Joey tenki baa tuur ho deskansa. Hau hamoos. Tenki deskansa” (“Joey, you must go sit and rest. I will clean. You must rest”).

We were left with no food in the fridge, patchy sunburn and a new motto: ‘accept and surrender (or you will go insane)’.

Zen