Leaving Australia

The night was short, very short. To be in good time for our flight and be certain we got time to go to border Australia for the TRS scheme paperwork. TRS stands for tourist refund scheme, a way to get a refund on GST if goods are exported within 60 days of purchase in Australia. Given that we spend several thousand dollars in AUS, were ready to jump through some hoops to get 10% back.

A brief taxi ride later, we found ourselves at the check-in desk for AirNorth at the Darwin airport. Despite my better judgement I believed the check-in staffer when she said that we have to check in our luggage straight away and the only TRS desk is behind the security checks.

With plenty of time and our boarding passes in our hands we went through the checks. I got pulled over once again (my passport seems to have performance issues with the scanners), but nothing came of it. And just after that, we got the cold dark confirmation: People will tell you anything to get rid of you, especially if they know you can’t come back to complain.

“No refund, you have to show the goods!” – “I know, but the lady said …”- “The airlines problem, there was a desk downstairs” – “can I go back?!” – “No …”. I am not ashamed to say that I made a bit of a scene there and then, and when the superior border officer came around, I took my chance to plead our case one more time. She took pity, frowned upon the minion and with a “their story is pretty convincing” ordered for the full amount to be refunded. Wow, a near miss.

We even had time for a hasty breakfast and blog post before we got on board. Turned out, the breakfast was a bit premature, but then again, what about second breakfast?

A day in Dili

Our plane approached Dili airport in the first light of dawn. The first thing we saw were the steep central mountains as we crossed over to the northern side. Beautiful dark silhouettes against the horizon. We both agreed that we are missing the hills of our last home. The sun had just come up over the eastern land when we left the plane.

Two positive surprises awaited us at the airport. First, apparently quite recently the $30 for the visa on arrival was dropped for Germans. Yes, we are turning into that kind of penny pinchers now. Secondly, as promised, Herman awaited us outside for a ride to our latest shelter. Herman is the dad of a Wellington colleague of mine. He has been in Dili for 3 month now, volunteering with VSA as a financial and business adviser.

We got given the spare room at Herman’s Dili home. A whole room to ourselves! Before we started the trip I have always marvelled at the stories of other travellers and how they managed to find contacts all over the place and get accommodation and meet these fascinating people. I still have no idea how that works, it almost comes as a side effect of the trip it seems. By talking about it, people get interested and so one thing seems to lead to the next.

On his way to work, Herman dropped us off at the Timor Plaza, a western style mall within walking distance of his house somewhat outside of town. We got our communication needs met with a SIM card from Timor Telecom and after a stroll around the place to get a feel for prices we headed off to explore.

We ended up on the road to the waterfront, passing little roadside stalls and fending off an estimated 100 taxis trying to convince us that walking is really not the appropriate mode of transport.

Speaking of which: There are two modes of transport in town, if you are not fortunate enough to have your own motorbike or car: Taxi, with fares ranging from $1-$3 US for a trip in town or the mikrolets. These minibus serve the same role as a tram would in other cities. For a 25ct flat fee, you can hop on anywhere along the route and get out by signalling with a clink of your coin against the handrails. In Dili they follow fixed number routes, and one route passes by just 100m outside our house. Our first ride in one was also the first time in my life that I was too tall, bumping my head on the ceiling, much to the chagrin of the schoolgirls around us.

The ride was on the way back home, but for the rest of the morning we passed on the mikrolets as well in favour of a walk along the water’s edge towards the “center”. Big pompous embassies sit here hand in hand with bars and hotels aimed at Malae (non-Indonesian foreigners), I would expect. The biggest of the lot, of cause, the US embassy – with another complex of similar size set aside for USAID alone.

We found a little shop that would have been right up our ally, if we would not expect our own bike soon. Motorcycle adventures organises tours around the country on rented bikes, but always with a local guide. I am jealous of all the riders on their small bikes and have not given up on trying to rent one.

Walking was great, we had time to breath in the little details and get acclimatised to change of pace in our trip on our first day in the developing world. The people me met along the way were friendly but sometime curious – we must look somewhat out of place – but there is always a brilliant warm smile in it. So refreshing. For lunch, we ducked into a local eatery, which served mostly fried goods on rice. Nina had no issue getting through that she was vegetarian, and with her fried tofu balls probably won out over my nasi goreng spesial. The whole thing with drinks cost us $4.50 US. I could here the sigh of relief from our wallet.

Herman texted me and asked if we were keen to head to the Cristo statue to watch the sunset after work. Sure we were keen! So we had a little afternoon nap and were ready to head out when Herman came back from work. As we were on the last stretch it became clear that we were a tad too late and had a brief roadside stop to watch the big red ball disappear. Equatorial sun is quite spectacular. Afterwards, we continued on and made our way up the steps to the statue in the fading light of day for a brilliant view of the bay and Dili, with the mountains as a backdrop.

The night was rounded of by Thai dinner that Herman treated us to on the way back. Wow … what a day.