Ate loron seluk (See you on a different day)

Living in Dili means you have a continuum of people in your life. Everyone is coming or going, digging their heels into the place or trying to break free from it. For me, the month of May had some goodbyes I was loath to make.

As a self-confessed introvert, I have unwittingly adapted my ways to the social maelstrom of expatsville by developing an extroverted alter ego. Let’s call her Joey (no, really, we do). Joey likes to meet new people. She’s talkative, always up for a party and apt to spontaneity. Joey forms attachments with people quickly. Whereas I take my sweet time letting people in, Joey rushes on, arms open and caution to the wind.

Add to that a visit from my Mum and Dad, who finally met the neighbours and pigs and craziness of Dili I’ve been going on about, and the tally in the recent goodbyes column is looking pretty full.

So in a nutshell, Joey got me into this mess. Some of the people I’ve said goodbye to, I will definitely see again. Others I may not. The problem with making friends with fascinating, experience-laden, wanderlusty individuals is that they’re prone to moving on to the next place.

I spent the first 21 years of my life living in the same house, so needless to say the thought of saying goodbye to someone who is returning to the faraway pocket of earth from whence they came feels deeply unnatural.

As you can probably tell, I wrote this blog. Joey is already off making some new friends.

Nicolau Lobato airport: where it all happens

 PS. I realise talking about yourself in the third person is one of the first signs of insanity. I submit my case to you for review.