Dili-dally no longer

Getting from Darin to Dili this afternoon was so much of a non-event it was almost a let-down!

In this case I’m very glad of the pedestrian, simple, easy day.  It was more of a drama getting a boarding pass from Qantas than getting into Timor Leste unvaccinated.  I’d gone through a rigmarole preparing.  Weeks of dialog with the Immigration Attache.  An exhaustive process exploring vaccination (non-)certification options.  PCR tests.  Etc.

Mid-flight we filled in visa and health declarations as you’d be familiar with from any international travel.  Ticking the “not vaccinated” box was the only option as… well… that’s the truth.  But I was expecting surprise, followed by raised eyebrows, and then much trouble from the Dili officialdom.  As it happens, I’m not even sure the gentleman who took my health declaration and visa form even read what I’d written.  I didn’t really feel a surging need to plague his day by saying “wait… you missed it… I’m the great unwashed and you should detain me!!”  So I simply shuffled off to the next queue to deal with the next bored, disinterested official.

The next one was more interesting.  To begin with these next officials sat behind darkened glass through which it was quite difficult to see.  There were three desks, with people behind each, but it only gradually became semi-clear that only one of the three was open for business.  I think passports were received by the first, passed behind the dark glass to the second for a stamp, and then to the third for delivery back to me.  But I’m not really sure what was going on – a process as transparent as the glass that masked it.

I knew ahead of time there’s a (totally valid and reasonable) US$30 fee for the “on entry” visa with which these ladies and gentlemen were kindly assisting me.  And as I arrived at the front of the queue I stood directly beneath a sign declaring boldly that US$30 fee for said visa.  And yet I was greeted with “Hello.  $50 fee for the visa please.”  I cocked my head to the side, screwed up my nose, and pointed to the sign above my head.  Sitting behind his darkened glass he could not see said sign, but it seems he knew exactly what it said.  “Ok, $30 will be fine,” he retorted.  Was he hoping the white fella that just got off a plane from Darwin couldn’t read a sign in English?  I really don’t know.

Anyway, I paid the $30 with a $50 note, half expecting him to reply “don’t have change so it’ll have to cost you $50 anyway.”  But his actual rejoinder was a $20 note.  A few minutes later the stamped passport even emerged through a hole in the smoky glass.  Without much of a word or even a gesture I was still a little uncertain what came next, and was left asking “All done?  Can I go now?”  Yes, apparently I could.  One last barrier remained, with a photo taken and four fingerprints taken from my left hand.  Funny thing – it seems I can’t count to four. The officer had to point out I had only offered three fingers, with one recalcitrant not on the pad.  Hmmm… intelligent, these Australian visitors!  Maybe my arithmetic leaked out of me through all the adrenaline of wondering how my no-vax treatment would go.

A fairly typical bag pickup greeted me right there at the customs exit closer than any airport I’ve ever visited.  A quick and uneventful security scan and… I arrived in TImor Leste.  No questions, no stern looks, no lectures, no pay-through-the-nose fortnight of no-vax isolation, no go-straight-to-jails, no “get back on that plane and go back to Darwin posthaste”.

Just a milling crowd of locals.  Most of whom wanted me to get in their taxi.

I politely declined the many taxi invitations.  Several of them wouldn’t take no for an answer – a bit like the large, silly 6” seagulls (suits with a person and a very strange mandate inside) at the Australian Open who keep peck-peck-pecking guests for goodness knows what reason.  Anyway, I was determined to say no to anyone who approached me, preferencing instead me approaching a vendor of my own choosing.  So I found a space to sit and recover my balance, take a breath, and get comfortable with the Timor surroundings.

One of the more persistent taxi drivers happened to ping his question at me yet again, but timed this one coincidentally just as I’d decided I was ready to make a move.  So he won my business.  To the chargrin of the other drivers still milling with intent in my general direction.

I showed the driver the confirmation booking email for the backpacker address.  He had no idea where it was.  That didn’t seem like a really great sign.  But there was also a phone number, and he was glad to ring.  I didn’t understand a word of the conversation of course, and was very much in his hands as we navigated roads with potholes I thought might swallow the car whole.  But we found the place alright, and for a backpacker its really rather lovely in a Dili kind of way.

I’ve only booked a couple of nights, just so I could get my bearings and decide in place where I’d stay (or go) while I wait three weeks for the bike to follow me.  But from first impressions I think I’ll make this place base, and go back and forwards from here.  It’s pretty cheap, too, so really not a problem to just book the whole waiting time.

There were a few people holding collective breath with me to navigate the customs Covid vax issues, so I was keen to get connected for your sake as much as for mine.  Vodafone is my Australian carrier and is supposed to be the preeminent for travel with good connections globally.  But it failed me on our doorstep, 400 nautical miles from an Aussie capital city.  Oh well.

Once I’d settled into the backpacker, the owner helpfully offered that I could buy a local SIM at any of the roadside stores around the corner.  So I went for a quick wander.  You’ll need to know for background that Timor Leste trades mostly in US dollars.  I happened to have with me a few random US dollars from a trip to the States a decade or so ago.  That caused quite a stir in the shop, and after some language barriers and a small crowd getting involved, they declined my currency saying it was too old!  So I offered the notes I had picked up from forex late last week in Darwin, and they declined that too as they couldn’t manage change from $50!  Thankfully the bystander who spoke the best English there took pity on me and simply paid the $1.50 for me.  I’ll deal with currency issues tomorrow.  Today’s priority is data.

I thought I’d have the data adventure behind me at that point, but alas not so!  I couldn’t get that SIM working.  My host Mokul kindly helped.  Since then we’ve gone through 3 different SIMs (both in my phone and his), multiple calls to telco help desks, and countless attempts to initialise and load credit to the accounts.  And, despite having given my passport and personal details to far more people than I really cared to, I am still without data.

In that midst Mokul kindly shared his data through a hotspot so I could get a heartbeat “I’m arrived and safe and well” message out to those who were waiting to know.  But I’ll need to get this sorted tomorrow in order to be able to navigate Dili and Timor.

I’d have probably gone for an early night today, as I’m pretty weary.  I haven’t succeed.  Somehow amongst all the data challenges, and dinner, and generally getting oriented, Mokul declared his Muslim religion and asked me mine.  When I shared – only in response to his question – that I’m a Christian, it launched a long and deep and kinda complicated conversation.  It didn’t cost me many words, but it did tax my listening skills and tired brain to navigate complex topics through accent and language filters.  Somehow in the midst of it I think the general thrust was that the Muslim religion is sort of the same as Christianity, or perhaps closer to Mokul’s intent would be that Muslim is the fulfilment of Christianity and every other religion.  I asked how the exclusivity of Jesus’ claim to be “the way, the truth and the life” fitted with an amalgam of all other prophet’s teaching and religious beliefs.  There were words and there was a response, which I’m yet to understand.  Perhaps my brain is in a fog and I’m too tired for such deep topics.

I’ll switch off now, and begin a new day tomorrow.

I’m looking forward to exploring Timor Leste while I wait for my bike to sail to Singapore and back.  And then on into Indonesia through multiple ferry hops to Singapore.

I finally feel like this adventure is beginning.