East Timor East Timor

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  • Day 74

    Die Geschichte Osttimors

    January 15 in East Timor ⋅ 🌧 28 °C

    Hand aufs Herz, wer weiß etwas über das Land Osttimor und seine Geschichte? Wir wussten es nicht, haben hier aber viel erfahren.
    Nach langer portugiesischer Besatzung fiel das kleine Land 1975 einer Invasion des Nachbarstaates Indonesien zum Opfer. Es folgte ungesehen von der Öffentlichkeit ein grausamer Völkermord. Erst gut 15 Jahre später verbreiteten sich Berichte über ein Massaker bei Studentenprotesten in den Medien und bis das Land seine Unabhängigkeit erkämpfte vergingen mehr als 10 weitere Jahre. Mit der Erklärung dazu im Jahr 2002 ist der Staat noch sehr jung. Die Folgen der indonesischen Invasion sind nicht überwunden. Ca. 1/3 der damaligen Bevölkerung wurde ausgelöscht, viele nach Westtimor verschleppt und Zwangssterilisierungen waren ebenfalls Teil des Genozides. Somit liegt das Durchschnittsalter hier heute bei 21 Jahren (fast die Hälfte der Menschen ist jünger als 15!), das Gesundheitssystem ist mangelhaft (zumindest aber kostenlos für die Bevölkerung), 70% der Straßen sind marode und bei schlechtem Wetter kaum passierbar.
    Von touristischer Struktur ganz zu schweigen. Wir sind hier eindeutig die Exoten. Aber jeder grüßt freundlich und die Menschen sind nicht aufdringlich. Im Straßenbild von Dili lauert aber doch die ein oder andere Gefahr für Fußgänger durch fehlende Gullideckel. Man muss schon aufpassen wohin man tritt.
    Aber das Land verfügt über Bodenschätze wie Öl und Gas und bietet Kaffee und Sandelholz als Exportgüter. Spannend wie es hier wohl in 20 Jahren aussehen mag.
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  • Day 72

    Touritag in Dili

    January 13 in East Timor ⋅ ☁️ 27 °C

    Wie läuft ein Tag in Osttimor ab!
    Unsere Unterkunft ist Teil eines SchoolProjektes. PROEMA
    Das beinhaltet eine Hotelfachschule, sowie auch eine Restaurant-Schule.

    Um 08:00 Uhr wurden wir sanft durch Gesang und Gitarrenspiel geweckt, die Vermutung geht dahin, dass alle Azubis (nennen wir sie mal so) sich zum gemeinsamen Morgengesang getroffen haben.
    Gibt Schlimmeres.
    Beim Frühstück das nächste Highlight.
    Osttimor ist bekannt für seinen hervorragenden Biokaffee, und das wurde zelebriert. Jede Tasse per Hand am Tisch aufgegossen ( siehe Bild)

    Dann wurde es bunt.
    Erste Station die Christus Statue.
    Anfahrt mit einem Colourful Bus.
    ( Das ist hier der ÖNV)
    Richtige Nr. suchen, Hand raus und für 50 Cent zum Ziel.
    Bus war voll, Musik laut, die Einwohner auf dem Weg zur Arbeit oder Schule..
    Ziel erreicht standen wir als blasse Touris mit Hemd gleich für Photos bereit.
    Scheinbar ist das noch nicht Alltäglich mit den Touris.

    Der Rest des Tages ist schnell erzählt.

    Viele Stufen hoch zur Statue, todgeschwizt, Kreislauf (Toptemperatur für den Ausflug)
    Bus zurück,
    Duschen, Siesta, Kaffeetrinken, wieder geschwitzt, Geocaching, Duschen und Essen gehen in der Restarantschule.
    ( Portugiesisch angehaucht)
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  • Day 71

    Von Lombok nach Dili

    January 12 in East Timor ⋅ ☁️ 29 °C

    Heute gibt es mal ein bisschen mehr Text als Bilder, um von unseren Etappenerfahrungen zu berichten. Das Reisen von einem Aufenthaltsort zum anderen ist mal mehr mal weniger beschwerlich und auf der Etappe von Lombok nach Dili war alles dabei. Los ging es gestern mit einer wirklich schönen Taxifahrt auf Lombok zum Fähranleger. Der Fahrer sprach gut Englisch und hat uns von seiner Familie, den Nachbarn und dem Leben auf der Insel erzählt.
    Am Hafen fing es dann heftig an zu regnen und hat auch bis zum Abflug heute auf Bali nicht mehr aufgehört. Die Expressfähre war klein und eng und das Gepäck wurde im Regen ganz hinten aufgestapelt, nur abgedeckt mit einer Plane (Das vorweg: Markus hat einen komplett nassen Rucksack auf Bali in Empfang genommen. Bei mir sah es etwas besser aus, aber wir sind immer noch mit der Trocknung unserer Klamotten beschäftigt). Während der Überfahrt hatte ich dann - und das meine ich ernst, auch wenn Markus lacht - einen schlimmen Panikmoment, als ich aus dem Halbschlaf gerissen wurde, weil plötzlich der Bootsmotor ausging, auf der gegenüberliegenden Seite alle aufsprangen, weil Wasser eindrang, das Boot fürchtlich zu schaukeln anfing und die Hälfte der Leute innerhalb von Sekunden Schwimmwesten überwarf (hätte uns vermutlich nichts genutzt, aber das nennt man wohl eine klassische Übersprungshandlung - ratet wer von uns beiden auch eine anhatte😜). Long story short: irgendwer musste sich übergeben und damit derjenige bei dem Tempo nicht über Bord ging, wurde scheinbar kurz gestoppt. Panikmoment Ende als die Besatzung anfing sich über die Touris zu amüsieren. Markus hatte aber seine Nahtod-erfahrung später auch noch bei einem Hustenanfall (der Arme plagt sich schon seit einer Woche mit ner fetten Erkältung rum) im Taxi - warum soll auch immer nur ich Panik schieben😅? Irgendwann hatten wir es dann auf Bali ins Hotel in einem kleinen überfluteten Gassengewirr geschafft. Dagegen war der Flug nach Dili heute die reinste Wohltat. Mal sehen was das kleine beschauliche Osttimor zu bieten hat. Soviel ist schon bei der Einreise klar: Touris aus Deutschland sind hier eher die Ausnahme, wenn der Grenzbeamte beim Anblick des Passes fragt, ob Deutschland = Germany ist😂.
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  • Day 172–173

    Lore - Lost in the jungle

    January 12, 2024 in East Timor ⋅ ☁️ 31 °C

    Seems like I'm never too old to do stupid things... 😅
    Furthermore self-overestimation is dangerous, at a certain point. Finally staying calm and rational saved me from the worst - but not staying calm and getting nervous led to unnecessary problems. 😅🤷
    Finding myself lost in the jungle, not being able to find my way back, already knowing that nobody is far around here to help me out, no network also, and sunset only one hour away, was scary.
    Here's the whole story, how that happened (it's a long and very detailed story 😅):
    Going from Lospalos to Timor Leste's south coast was the plan, nice ride through the mountains, only around 25km, through the mountains, and then following the coastal road for 55km to the west. The Mountain road was crazy, took me 1.5hrs for 25km, road was mostly completely destroyed, but nothing I haven't seen before 😅
    Coastal village of Lore was nice, but not much going on there, a tiny fisherman's village. As the eastern south coast is known as the area with the most crocodiles, swimming wasn't possible, either. 😅
    The coastal road was nice, in the beginning, but it was a sand/dirt road, not fitting to my research about a proper highway along the south coast. 😅 Only a few kilometers further on, I suddenly found myself in the jungle, on a road which was only a bike path through the rainforest.
    Still not worrying, as it was clearly a used frequently, with lot of bike spurs on it. I was aware about a river crossing (a huge river , according to satellite images) but usually here is a a way how to cross rivers, otherwise road is blocked.
    As usual I've asked some locals in my way, if I can take this road to my destination, Iliomar, and everyone told me, yes, this road is ok. Looking back, I guess they just didn't know about the latest floodings, there... 🤷
    Nevertheless, it was a nice ride, rainforest is awesome and fascinating, I met some animals, from lizards and monitos to big crabs (in the jungle 😯), and the path wasn't too bad. Meeting some fishermen at a beach, before the "road" completely turned into deep jungle, was so nice: They were so friendly and with a mix of English and Indonesian we had a nice talk, they invited me to eat some fresh fish, also. As one of them was injured, and all my tiny wounds were just fine, I decided to gift my Betadine and my antibiotic ointment to him, he really needed it. Well, I'm not regretting, but I was missing both of them a few hours later. 🙈When this guy told me, I need a strong bike to cross the river, I started to worry a bit, but locals usually underestimate tourists and I can handle a lot, I thought.
    Arriving at the river, I first accidentally took the "old road", which ended at a steep cliff of the riverbed's water's shore, but going a few hundred meters back brought me to the "new road, which finally led to an entrance into the riverbed. I quickly decided to accept the challenge: After more than 7.000 km on any kind of roads, paths, off-road trails, I already had crossed some smaller streams and a huge flooded road, so I decided it's time to cross a serious river, when the road suddenly led down straight into a 100m wide riverbed with a luckily shallow river, meandering through it. It was noon, so a lot of time left, as this would probably take 1 or 1.5 hours, but such delays I'm already used to. And I've already learned earlier, that very tricky paths have to be checked first, before going on by bike, so I walked in the riverbed, to spot a shallow part of the river, where I could cross with my scooter.
    Found out that crossing the river was not a problem, even if I needed to ride through the riverbed for around 500-800 meters. Going down into the riverbed with my scooter was tricky, very muddy, so I needed to put some collected woods into the mud, to not get stuck in there. But as this was visibly the actually used path into the riverbed, I didn't question that at all, it worked out well. Riding in the stony riverbed felt similar to some really, really bad mountain roads 😅😂 So going through in walking speed, wasn't something completely new to me and took some time, but in that moments I love the scooters, they're powerful but lightweight, and not too bad for going off-road. (Yes, a dirt bike is better, but I like the comfort of a scooter 😅).
    But my first fatal mistake on this day came to my mind, slowly:
    Already knowing that maps are not correct, here, it was clear I had to find the path out of the riverbed at the other side. I should have searched for that, too, before entering the river bed, I guess. 🙈🤷
    Still more than 3 hours to sunset left, but suddenly some dark clouds were rising up at the mountains in the north, upwards the river, looking quite scary: Small, shallow rivers can rapidly grow to huge, wild and deadly flash floods, here, they have these huge riverbeds for a reason. So a way out of the riverbed was needed, the sooner the better. Going back wasn't an option, as that would have taken at least 30-40mins and I really didn't want to be in the middle of the riverbed, when a flash flood comes down from the mountains. But while going along the steep water's edge, where the maps showed the road, there was only a 2-4m high steep cliff, no chance for going up, not even by walking.
    Getting scared from being hit by a flash flood, I decided to call for help, hoping any local close by coming and leading me to to the road. As the mobile network was already gone around 10kms away, continuously horning an SOS Signal, while making a very smokey fire, was the only option. I did a proper job, following the usual survival rules - but unfortunately that didn't work out at all: Obviously no soul was close enough to hearing or seeing me.
    While waiting for help, my thoughts went around: I realized that sunset is only 2 hours away. I'm in an area known for many crocodile attacks, sleeping in the wilderness is not an option. I wasn't prepared for a jungletrip, that wasn't planned. I'm only having around 0,5 liters of drinking water left and due to the exhausting river crossing and a perceived temperature around 40° I already felt dehydrated. The last (probably) inhabited house I've seen on the road was at least 4-6 km backwards. I am too scared about a flash flood, for going backwards. Maps are showing no sign of civilization on my actual side of the river. I'm facing several serious risks. How to get out of this mess?
    Thinking too much about the problems and not enough about possible solutions, probably led to my second big mistake: I took ANY way out of the riverbed.
    I spotted out a less steep part of the water's edge, where I could lift up my scooter. Up there only the jungle was visible, but some cow footprints made me think, there is at least an animal's path, leading me to the assumption, that I could find a way through the jungle, to the road. Oh, I was so wrong... 🤦.
    Pushing the scooter out of the riverbed was exhausting, took me half an hour, and I quickly realized that I've massively misjudged the surroundings. I was in the jungle. Decision to go here was more than naive, it was stupid. Finding a way through the jungle could be done with a proper dirt bike and a machete, but not like I did.
    The first path disappeared, I tried to find a new one. No path to find, driving through the woods, cutting myself on leafs and sticks, as I had no machete or tool available, to cut myself a path. Always riding for 20, 30, 40 meters, then leaving my backpack at the scooter to check surroundings, spotting out a drivable way, go back and drive a few meters. But suddenly I couldn't find my scooter any more. I'm raised in some Bavarian woods, my brothers and I explored a lot, I'm used to finding tracks. But the jungle is a different story, the jungle is cruel, I tell you. While not finding back to my scooter any more, I realized how easy it is, to get lost in the jungle. Only 25m away from my scooter, I just couldn't see it, footpaths were not visible on the ground, I got f***ing scared! Luckily I left the scooter's light switched on, finally spotting the red backlight out, saved me, finally! So not walking away more than 10m from my scooter, slowed me down even more. As the jungle was still close to the river, the ground was muddy, here and there, of course my scooter got stuck in the mud, after a while. So freeing my scooter took me a sweaty hour of pushing, pulling and falling down in the slippery, muddy, ground.
    At that point I realized that the sun will go down in around 40mins. For now I didn't too much worry about the crocodiles in that area, as I permanently was moving and always avoiding the little lakes and ponds, where they usually are hunting. But when it's dark, crocodiles are a different story, you really shouldn't underestimate their ability to hunt for prey.
    So only one option left: I have to leave my scooter here and walk back, to the last (hopefully) inhabited house I've seen along the road. The flash flooding in the riverbed suddenly seemed to be less scary, than a night in crocodiles sump land - and dark clouds having moved away from the mountains in the north was lowering the risk, too.
    So I took everything out of my scooter, set a tag on the map where in the jungle it's parked, hoping no flooding will take it away, during the night, and started to find a way back zo the riverbed. Hearing the river floating, I assumed it would be easy to find my way, as I couldn't follow my own track backwards - another wrong assumption. Again: Jungle is cruel. Without a machete, you just get stuck every few meters in vegetation, forced to find a way around. Suddenly not hearing the river anymore, was a shock moment - I'm completely moving in the wrong direction. But there was just no walkable way to the needed direction, how the hell can I get out of here? Double-checking the map permanently, not panicking, and steadily reminding myself, that I just have to move on, brought me back to the river. Or at least to finally see the river. Not being able to cross a 100 meter long huge barrier of trees and timber which the river had washed ashore, was so frustrating. Usually I would have tried to climb through it, but carrying my whole baggage (again happy about travelling with hand luggage!), being already dehydrated and exhausted, feeling my muscles losing strength. So climbing now is impossible and will put me into even more risk of hurting myself. So again, fighting my way through the jungle, around that barrier. Finally, a few more scratches added to my legs and arms, but happy to be out of the jungle I stood at the riverbed - I made it out of the goddamn jungle. Sunset already was close, twilight started and there was still a river to cross. Taking a shortcut to the "old road" didn't work out well, the shore was too steep to climb up. So there was no alternative to walking back for around 800m up the river through the rocky, slippery riverbed to reach my entry point at the "new road". Crossing the river, while permanently looking around if there are any signs of crocodiles visible was thrilling, but I was quite sure, that the river there was too shallow for hunting crocodiles.
    Reaching the entry point to the riverbed, already in twilight, but still not yet dark, was such a relief! Still anything around 5-6 km to walk, I just could estimate how far it was to the last hut, I'd seen. But on a bike trail, no risk of getting lost, and crocodiles would not easily be able to attack me, as long as I don't stop walking. Take a small sip of my tiny little rest of water and let's go.
    It immediately was dark, when I entered the jungle, but luckily I had read a guide about crocodiles, before. So I took my headlights and permanently checked my surroundings and back, as crocodiles' eyes would reflect (yes, they do, I can confirm that, now) and crocodiles usually do not attack you frontally, from a distance (seems to be true, too). At least that kept me busy and motivated - if you've seen crocodile eyes in the darkness in the jungle, taking a break doesn't sound appealing, I can tell.
    Nevertheless, my backpack felt like it was increasing its weight steadily, my mouth got dryer and dryer and my legs just moved mechanical, except for slipping away randomly, when there was a muddy part on the trail. Crossing some smaller streams was thrilling, as there were mostly ponds close by, often big enough for a crocodile family. So these crossings were made quickly and fortunately soon the area became less sumpy and trees got bigger, so I felt risk became less and I was able to slow down a little bit. Slowly but steadily hiking in the darkness of the jungle, hoping the farmers hut will appear soon and the farmers will be there, time passed by. Suddenly another hut appeared, I obviously didn't see when passing by earlier, but as I approached, it clearly was abandoned. For god's sake, finally I've found a safe place. I can have at least a break or perhaps even have a safe place for the night! 🙏
    It was a little bit spooky, as the place looked abandoned, vegetation started to take over the place, but on the other hand there still was clothing hung up, and kitchen stuff around, as if it was recently used. I wasn't able to switch on the light, probably the battery was empty, but I still was so grateful for being able to sit and rest for a while. I felt like I did at least an important step, but decided not to stay there, hoping to find some people and even perhaps some food and especially drinking water. So I portioned my rest of the drinking water wisely, estimating the position of the farmers hut, I hoped it wouldn't be much more than 1-3 kilometers to there, and went on.
    Being in the jungle at night, completely alone is a strange experience. Wasn't too afraid of crocodiles any more, as the river was already a few kilometers behind me, but the sounds of the jungle were fascinating. It's definitely not quite in the jungle, at night, mostly birds, probably bats and monkeys were making fascinating noises, only rarely the sky was visible, through the trees, vegetation around looked like a wall, aside from the narrow bike trail.
    When I finally saw a glimpse of artificial light through the trees, I knew I had finally arrived, goddamn, you can't imagine that relief.
    The old man sitting in front of the hut at around 10:30 pm, obviously was massively surprised, when I greeted him. It took a few moments till he put together, that I had passed by around 10 hours earlier on my scooter. Luckily he was speaking Indonesian, as Timorese people often only speak the local Tetun language (no translation app available) and a little bit of Portuguese, but here my basic knowledge of the Indonesian language helped a lot. Asking me what happened to my scooter, assuming I've had an accident, I explained to him, what happened. Seeing my wounds on my legs and arms, he immediately got some disinfectant local oil to take care of my wounds and offered me to sleep here and to help me the next day, to bring my scooter back.
    I finally slept on a platform, half a meter over the ground, which usually is their living room and kitchen, no walls, just the jungle around, and the family was sleeping above me, on a higher platform under the roof. During the night, I didn't find much sleep. Not only some monkeys going around in the hut and chickens, lizards, birds, whatever, making noises. But still my mind wasn't able to calm down, my thoughts went around, recapping the day, and probably the adrenaline kept me awake a lot.
    So after having slept for 1 or 2 hours, everybody got up at around 6am, the woman and the kids had a very small portion of plain rice for breakfast, the men didn't eat anything. It was obvious, there wasn't enough food at all, so I gained at least some energy from some candy, I still had left in my bag. As they were drinking water from a small stream close by, which I wanted to avoid, and there was only a tiny wooden fire, I hesitated to ask for boiling some water for me. I thought, I'll be in the village in two or three hours, so my tiny rest of water will be enough. Again, I overestimated myself and wasn't thinking everything through, properly.
    Walking back to the river (again with my whole baggage), starting at 7 am, took around two hours, luckily we found my scooter very quickly. As I already realized in the evening, there was no possible path to the road, from there. So while the grandfather started to find a path from the riverbed to the road, the father helped me by cutting a free path back to the riverbed for me and my scooter. Bringing it down and riding it for half a kilometer through the riverbed, now was not too difficult, but exhausting. The guys had a lot of fun, watching a "bule", going through the riverbed on a scooter. 😅😂
    Lifting up the scooter out of the riverbed, close to the former river crossing, was tough, no one could have done that alone. Again, a path through the jungle had to be cut, but finally, at around 11:30am, my scooter was back on the so called "road". Saying goodbye to the guys, thanking them again and again, taking the unavoidable selfies and pictures and gifting something for their amazing help and support, took some time, but finally I was back on the road.
    They, and some other farmers I've met on my way, confirmed that the rest of the road is "stable", but it still took me around 1.5 hours to make the 20 km to Iliomar. Having not a single drop of water left, sweating massively the whole morning, I felt more and more affected by dehydration. I guess the adrenaline kept me energetic before, but now I felt so tired. Unbelievable tired. And so thirsty. You can't imagine how much I desired just a sip of water. I couldn't think about anything else anymore. Trying to focus myself on the track and stay focused on the difficulties riding a motorbike on a jungle trail, was a permanent struggle, now. Any rough passages, like small riverbed crossings or bumpy parts of the trail, felt more and more exhausting. My muscles lost strength, any movement started to be extremely hard. My dry mouth was feeling sticky. Not looking on the map anymore, just keep going, keep going, like a robot with an emptying battery.
    Finally arriving, going straight to the local shop, getting two big bottles of water, I had a breakdown. After drinking one liter in one sip, I couldn't help and started crying from happiness, feeling such undescribable relief. Had to sit down, my whole body shaking and my mind just simply thanking any god, that the torture is over.
    In the end, I've to say that all this mess wasn't too bad. Of course, not really funny, sometimes, but still an experience, exhausting and some bad decisions I had to suffer from, but it worked out well, in the end. But the lack of water, was something I never ever want to experience again. In the end, this was the worst thing I've ever experienced. Can't find the proper words for it, but the last two hours before that moment, was probably the worst time of my life.
    While the locals were amused and surprised by my appearance, first, they quickly realized that there was something wrong and immediately offered any possible help, Indonesians are just so caring and friendly, it was heart touching.
    It was fascinating to see, how fast my body recovered, after giving it water, I felt quite fit surprisingly soon.
    Spent an hour there, drank three liters (!) of water within that time, got another big bottle and some fruit juice and isotonic drink for going on - and decided to go straight all the way back to Baucau.
    A long ride, but I just wanted some proper infrastructure and a nice place to rest, after that days.
    I finally had a nice ride back, met a college-teacher on the roads, travelling together and having great conversations during breaks. An amazing dinner in Lospalos and a nice ride into the sunset to Baucau brought the day to a good end. I probably had the best sleep ever, in my comfy bed, that night. 😅
    Counting everything together, I've drunken around 6 liters of water, juice and iso-drinks, that day, while having one tiny little pee in the late evening.
    The two most crazy days ever, while traveling.

    This was my longest text, for now. Trying to recap the whole day as precisely as possible to reflect my experience. This was definitely one of my most challenging experiences ever, it definitely affected me more as I had expected and gave me a lot of thoughts and struggles. Writing about it, helped me a lot to get over it - as far as I can say that, now. 😅
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  • Day 171–172

    Ira Lalaro - going to Lospalos

    January 11, 2024 in East Timor ⋅ ☁️ 30 °C

    Ira Lalaro is a huge lake and sump land in the most eastern mountains of Timor Leste. In the south of it, you can find one of the most natural, untouched rainforests in the world. Due to Indonesian occupation, Timor Leste not only was suffering from the cruelties of the occupators, but missed more than two decades, in which the rest of south east asia started a massive development. Because of that, it's economy and development is far behind, but on the other hand, a lot of mistakes, especially about environment and profit-driven destruction, weren't made, here. So daily life is -outside of the cities- still very simple and nature often is untouched. Infrastructure is very bad, too, of course, as Indonesians destroyed a lot of it, for fighting the resistance.
    So Ira Lalaro is an area, where nature is still used for farming in a very natural way, but most parts of the sump land and the wide grasslands of the highlands around, are untouched and only used for letting cows and buffalos go around.
    Driving right through these lands (mostly on tiny, even sometimes disappearing, bike paths) was amazing, being the only human for kilometers around, meeting animals and exploring these lands, was unbelievable.
    Seeing some tiny, old (not maintenanced) roads/paths into the rainforest, I couldn't resist exploring that too. Close to getting stuck, a few times, not able to reach the small lake, far out in the wilderness, but enjoying this beautiful, wild and raw nature, not seeing the sun, or even more than 2-3 meters into the jungle, due to massive, huge and spreading vegetation.
    Spent so much time there, again and again exploring tiny paths, leading to anywhere, that I quite late arrived at Lospalos, but had an amazing day of exploring one of Timor Leste's least inhabited parts. 🥰
    Lospalos is a small town, too, famous for the most beautiful (and most expensive, according to the marriage portion) women and the surrounding mountains. Stayed only one night there, as the village itself was explored quite quickly, but enjoyed it very much, too, as people were so kind and welcoming, even if communication was very basic and mostly a mix of English, Indonesian language and hand-and-feet-talking. 😅
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  • Day 23–27

    Timor-Leste

    January 27 in East Timor ⋅ 🌧 28 °C

    Our first stop out of Australia: Dili, Timor-Leste.

    Every time Chelsea says ‘Dili’ people hear Delhi and… they’re not the same. Timor-Leste is South East Asia’s youngest country after gaining independence from both the Portuguese (1975) and then the US-backed Indonesia (2002). For a country so new to democracy, these guys are all about voting, and the president drives around in his Jeep, no security detail, waving at the populace on his way to work. Vibes.

    The Timorese are having a generally good time - schooling and health care is free and housing is pretty make-shift and multi-generational, so earnings go to food and electronics (seemingly the only things to be bought). We’d heard that it’s dangerous but the most sinister experience so far has been three tiny bandits aged about 8 years old approaching us with ‘Money?’ and rubbing their fingers together cheekily at four in the afternoon. Dan, very sweetly, thought they were saying ‘Morning.’ Thus the Good Morning Bandits were formed.

    We stayed at the DaTerra hostel, an oasis near the port, and caught the ferry to Ataúro (pronounced Atta-oo-roe) for a couple days’ diving on the most diverse coral reefs in the world. This was some of the most incredible diving we’ve ever done, with crystal clear visibility around 50m, and completely calm water. Exceptional coral and sea creatures, which our photos can’t do justice to.

    Our Homestay hosts overfed us; turns out we were basically staying with the mayor, and we had a fab time learning some rudimentary Tetun from the local children. Highly recommend Estevao’s Homestay for anyone visiting!

    Not many hiccups or disasters to report, except getting caught in the wet season torrents one time - photo of a soaking wet Dan included for reference.

    Returning to Dili, we caught one of the local ‘microlets’ to the shops (a minibus with no fixed stops, where locals are encouraged to sit on each other’s laps when the seats are full). Tomorrow we’re heading out early to cross the Indonesian border. More to follow soon!
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  • Day 56

    49. Tag Night Market in Dili

    January 18 in East Timor ⋅ ☁️ 27 °C

    Wir wurden informiert, dass wir in der Hotelanlage (Shoppingcenter) bleiben sollten, aus Sicherheitsgründen 😳 Abend's konnten wir den Night Market direkt vor der Türe geniessen 😋
    Und schon kam ein heftiger Regenschauer 🌧🌫🌧🌫🌧🌫Read more

  • Day 55

    48.Tag Plaza Hotel Dili East Timor

    January 17 in East Timor ⋅ ☁️ 27 °C

    Ein blaufaced Honigfresser (auch Bananenvogel genannt)😳 leistet uns noch Geselkschaft, in der Hoffnung auf ein paar Krümmel vom 🥐 😆
    Kurz vor Abflug✈️ ein heftiger Regenschauer🌧🌫🌧🌫
    In Dili angekommen brachte uns ein Taxi (eher fahrendes Blechgestell 🙈 ) ins Hotel.
    Während der Fahrt hatten wir eher das Gefühl in Vietnam und nicht in Dili zu sein 🫣 Tuktuks , Mofas, Taxis und klappriege "Autos" ein Hupkonzert rechts und links 🙉

    Am Abend ließen wir uns dann im Restaurant verwöhnen 😋😋😋😋 bei tropischen Temperaturen 27 ° und zwischendurch Regenschauer 🥴
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  • Day 25–29

    Bem-vindo in Timor-Leste

    May 12, 2024 in East Timor ⋅ ⛅ 29 °C

    Oberhallauer Bergrennen ist ein Begriff? Ok, dann lege die Strecke mal von Kupang bis Dili auf die Karte und setz zum Amüsement noch einen Reifenwechsel als Task mit hinein...so machen es zumindest die Indonesier... und die Schweizer? also die zwei am Sonntag waren um 0600 noch nicht ganz wach und verluden das Gepäck mal fix in den falschen Bus...dafür pünktlich..nicht so wie der andere (au dem sin Chugi hani no), der mit dem Taxi sprichwörtlich den Bus angehalten hat, um auch noch aufzuspringen...Rasant also gen Osten, statt Autobahnraststätte lokale Futterschuppen... ach, die Betätigung bei den Militärköchen hat wohl Spuren hinterlassen..irgendwie sind so Fische und Hühnerhaxen in ungekühlten Schaufenstern einfach nicht mehr so...begehrt...aber wir geben uns ja auch mit ein paar Maiskörnern zufrieden. Beim platten Reifen haben sich die zwei Fahrer nicht sehr einfallsreich gezeigt (Lunti het gfehlt)... ausserdem musste das Ding zuerst abkühlen...aber sie habens dann unter Beobachtung der Buspassagiere doch noch geschafft.
    Zitterpartie bei der Grenze, da niemand genau wusste, ob wir auch auf dem Landweg einreisen dürfen..so ohne Visa..aber die Osttimor-Mission in Genf meinte ja😉und tatsächlich funktionierte das iwandfrei, auch mussten wir nur dem Kofferträger was abdrücken ...positiv überrascht. Dafür hat uns der erste Taxifahrer vom Bushalt ins Hotel schon mal schön abgezockt...janu, das gehört irgendwie dazu😉dafür gabs dann zum ersten Mal i der Beiz nicht nur Reis oder Nudeln, sonder auch frittierte portugiesische Wurst...und danke heisst plötzlich auch nicht mehr Tri ma casi, sondern obrigado. Irgendwie aber eine Mischung zwischen wir möchten anders sein wie die, die uns dazumal überrannt haben aber schaffens nicht ganz...so als Zusammenfassung. Dafür mit Roller den Christo beguckt (fast so eindrucksvoll wie in Rio - mit dem Unterschied, da fährt ne Bahn, in Dili wird man Schweissnass... dann per Roller schönen einen Strand gesucht und nur Abfallverschmutzung gefunden, dafür einen illustren Ausflug auf den lokalen Markt..wo sich ein beschnapster Local hingegeben hat, Jana mindestens eine halbe Stunde die Welt zu erklären...achtung Spoiler: sie hat ihn nicht verstanden. Den Abschluss machten wir in einer kleinen aber wirklich guten Beiz bei gebratenem Fisch und Mixed-Seafood... und Bintang (also die Osttimoresen reklamieren Bintang als Osttimoresisches Bier...die Indonesier als das ihrige...auch egal, geschmeckt hats.
    Günstig wars nicht...die Preispolitik ist komisch....Sammeltaxi für 0.25USD aber beim Portugiesen bezahlst dennoch 30USD für einen Tintenfisch Salat ...und wir eben 20USD fürs Taxi😂
    Wir haben mit der Hotelchefin ausgemacht, dass wir in 10 Jahren wieder kommen, um zu sehen, ob sich Osttimor entwickelt hat... mal guggen😉
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  • Day 178–180

    Exploring Dili - again 😅🥰

    January 17, 2024 in East Timor ⋅ ☁️ 29 °C

    Relaxing a few days in Dili was needed and very relaxing, the DaTerra hostel, part of an amazing permaculture project in Baucau, is a great place to stay.
    I decided to go to Atauro island, next , to explore the outstanding reefs there, but wanted to heal my wounds, first, so some more time to go around in Dili.
    Thanks to Sara, volunteering in the DaTerra hostel, I have seen a local handcrafts workshop, producing awesome craved artworks from mostly woods, stone and bones.
    Furthermore we visited a very small private "zoo" from a local businessman. This was quite sad to see, animals were not really kept and cared for properly, the crocodile there was in a very bad shape and really looking heartbreaking.
    Passing by some extraordinary artworks, especially a huge one, close to the museum of resistance, stood out: Building a bridge between the cruelties of the past, the diversity of local cultures and tribes, the relationship to the world's people, the struggles of present days, the nature, the future of Timor Leste, so many aspects put in that amazing piece of street art!
    This country and this city are something special, it's hard to describe, but it's definitely a unique place.
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