Border jaunt

Because I’m a glutton for punishment, or perhaps a bus-enthusiast in severe denial, I recently did the 12+ hour, 4-wheel odyssey from East to West Timor. Unfortunately the stamp I got in my passport crossing the border doesn’t say ‘You’re awesome – RESPECT’, but it really should.

Within the first 45 minutes from Dili I’d vomited in a plastic bag and was beginning to wonder how I might be able to hitchhike back from Liquiça. But as so much of my childhood proved, a little vom can make you feel a whole lot better.

Crossing the border was a fairly relaxed affair as everyone on the bus seemed to make a personal investment in making sure me, as the only malae, had an easy time of it. The people sitting next to me, Paulino and Anita of Liquiça, took me under their wing and laughed at my incredulous and oft-repeated ‘tuun fali?’ (rough translation: ‘why in the world do we have to get out of the bus again for the seventh time in an hour for another pseudo-official person to casually flick through our passports?’)

This is the DIY part of the border crossing,
where everyone has to get out of the bus and carry their luggage across

By the time I made it to Kupang at 9pm that night I was, of course, delirious. But the transport odyssey was not over yet. 

The next stage was a flight in a tiny plane to the island of Sabu. Being in the front row of the plane, I was literally looking over the shoulders of the pilots. Which was interesting, until they both started reading aeroplane manuals and I decided I didn't want to look anymore.

Once on Sabu island, we spent two days scooting around on motorbikes looking at water wells. It will surprise no one that my technical knowledge of wells is slim to none. So each one we looked at (there were a lot) got either a ‘that’s a nice one’ or ‘that’s got a lot of rocks in it’ from me. While water wells are not really my thing, I continued to carve out a niche for myself in being particularly good at having drinks with microfinance clients – in this case, liquid palm sugar on Sabu island, and later in the week, fresh coconuts in a village near Kupang.

Hilarious Sabu baby

Broken motorbike chain on remote rural road - no problem!

Serious Sabu baby

Not a Japanese stone garden but rows and rows of palm leaf boats full of salt water -
when the water evaporates, a few grains of salt are left in each one

Mr. and Mrs. Sabu - a very cheeky couple

Just doing my thing

The catch to this jaunt across the border is that I am yet to make it back. The return jaunt starts at 5am tomorrow.