Category Archives: Timor-Leste

Day 118 – Overdue (Stats 103 Timor-Leste)

cc-by Nicolas Raymond

cc-by Nicolas Raymond

A lot of little things to do accumulate when we are travelling. Most of the time, we do not get through all of them in our evening downtime. Or the required facilities are not around (WiFi, Laundries etc). So the little scratches, tears and aches accumulate, until it is time to just not move, rest, watch a movie and get through our homework.

We stayed in our Probbolingo hotel for one more day. They had WiFi, a good warung across the street and bug-free beds (I murdered a lone bedbug, but I feel that we have brought that with us).

We got our mid-term plans for Indonesia to Malaysia shipping and a visit to my dad in Thailand over Christmas / New Year’s sorted out in concept. There is even time to finally do the Timor-Leste stats post. So here we go. Continue reading →

Day 88 – Into Indonesia

Breakfast was included in the price for the guest house so we sat down on the long table outside and helped ourselves to tea and fresh bread rolls. It was here that we met Barun, a Nepalese unicef employee. We talked about our plans to visit Nepal in March or April and might be able to get a bed in Kathmandu through him.

The last meters in Timor-Leste

The last meters in Timor-Leste

We rode all the way to the border in pretty much one go. At the last shop before the actual border, Flo remembered that we needed to spend the local coins so we bought drinks and sweets for the remaining $4.5.

It’s been a while since I crossed my last land border. With the Schengen agreement in Europe and us flying to our holiday destinations from NZ, an actual crossing has become a rare thing. We weren’t quite sure how much time it would take. Arriving at the Timor-Leste side, people were very helpful, pointing out the right places for us to go. First, we filled out our departure cards and got our passports stamped before heading to customs to get the carnet stamped as well. The customs officer needed just a little bit of explanation before filling out all the required fields. And thus, we were through one side already.

Taking the motorcycle about 300 meters further down, we hit the Indonesian side of the border. Unsurprisingly, our fully loaded bike caused a bit of a stir again but of a good kind: We got guided into a parking spot right next to officials and sent to the customs office first. Again, after some brief explanation (“This is for import, this is for export, you keep this part of the page”), everything was stamped and signed as it should be and we couldn’t even say thank you in Bahasa Indonesia yet. From there, we were directed to the “arrivals” section, filled out our arrival card and got our passports stamped. We had sorted the visa in Darwin already so now we started on our 60 days in Indonesia! Everything done, incredibly painless and we were back on the road in less than an hour.

No bahasa ingglisi, but in a good mood

No bahasa ingglisi, but in a good mood

The western part still looks much like Timor-Leste (big surprise) just a notch better off. This was noticeable in the better road which allowed us to go between 60kmh and 70kmh in comparison with the 30kmh we used for much of Timor-Leste. This is no surprise since all of Timor-Leste’s infrastructure was purposefully destroyed in the last conflict. But people looked better off as well; we saw more stone houses and bigger ones. In Atambue, we went into a supermarket and were completely overwhelmed by the selection. From 50 different brands of shampoo over Tim Tam ice cream to plushy Hello Kitty pillows…everything could be bought here. We left without having bought anything.

On the way out of town, we stopped at a gas station to refuel. Only one pump was operated which lead to a cue of motorcycles. All those scooters formed two neat lines with already opened fuel tanks so that the operator could alternate between the lines and have the least amount of time possible between refuels. Rocinante was too big to fit in one line so after a couple of minutes, she got special treatment, was allowed to skip the line and was refuelled while pulling up from the front of the line. Flo was happy that his wait in the sun was shortened. Also, fuel cost less than NZ$1 per liter which is a new low for us.

smug about cheap food

smug about cheap food

We kept riding for quite a while, not really hungry and happy about our border experience. When we finally pulled up at a warung makan, we were in for another surprise. Even less people speak English than in Timor-Leste. Since Indonesia is so big and unites so many different people, all with their own language, the official language is Bahasa Indonesia which is spoken by everyone. Except for us. The lady in the warung makan cracked up laughing when she realized we didn’t speak a word of Bahasa. I pointed at myself stating “vegetarian” but she only had to laugh harder and ran off. Surely, she was getting someone who would speak English. But no. Just more people to look at us. Luckily, the Lonely Planet has a section with the most useful words so I managed to convey what I wanted to eat and Flo just at the chicken. While eating, a young man appeared, talking on the phone. First we thought he was having a conversation, then random English words clarified that he was live commenting our every action to someone on the other end. The lovely, laughing lady also got out her smartphone and took a picture of us in her warung. I swear this will end up on facebook…”look at who ate in my little place”….*nod*. I didn’t manage to get a photo of the lady as her kids were shy and she only wanted a photo with her kids. However, the young man on the phone was quite happy to step up. =P We paid something like $3 but the entertainment was easily worth more. We made an effort to thank her in Bahasa “terima kasih”.

Like shopping at McDonalds: One sim, biggest data to go!

Like shopping at McDonalds: One sim, biggest data to go!

At about 2pm, we reached Kefa where we planned to stay. It is almost halfway towards Kupang already. Town was quite busy and the first hotel was asked in was full. A military guy talked to us with his bits and pieces of English and when he realized we couldn’t stay because it was full, he got a bystander to show us the next place on his scooter. Unfortunately, it was booked out as well as that poor guy took us to a third place where we now have a room.

In the afternoon, we bought a SIM card so that we can use mobile data as our internet substitute. This was one of the rare times I took a picture today, just been too overwhelmed.

Back in the hotel room, we realized that West Timor is in a different time zone than Timor-Leste to bring it closer to the rest of Indonesia (which only extends east from here). So we have gained another hour.

Day 87 – Balibó and Maliana

Today, we left Dili for good. Quite weird how attached we have become to this place which was our base for more than two weeks. We said our good-byes to Herman and I am curious about what he has to tell us about Dili once the wet season starts.

The beach in front of the resort and restaurant

The beach in front of the resort and restaurant

From Dili it is only a short ride to Cameo Beach, home to the Black Rock Café. Flo met someone at Cyclone in Darwin who told him to go there as his aunt was running it. So we pulled up for a drink but didn’t get a chance to meet the owners. Instead, two kiwi ladies on push bikes pulled up. In their own words “mad malae”. 🙂

It turns out that Jenny knows Herman – Timor is a small place after all. After about an hour, we parted with the lovely company to make our way towards Maliana. Jenny recommended a stop at the fort in Balibó where a new place just opened. We wouldn’t be able to afford the $85 a night but a coffee stop is always possible. Continue reading →

Day 85 – Mt Tatamailau/ Ramelau

Uargh...usually that's too early. What you are willing to do for a sunrise

Uargh…usually that’s too early. What you are willing to do for a sunrise

To be able to see the sunrise from the summit requires you to get up early. Very early. The alarm clock went off at 2:45am so we could start at 3am. Right on time we were sitting on the veranda, waiting for our guide Aldo. Then we waited. And waited. When he hadn’t shown up by 3:20am, Flo checked that we had the hiking track on our GPS and we started without a guide. Hato Builico is about 1933 meters above sea level while the top of Mt Tatamailau, the highest point in Timor-Leste, is at 2986m.

Hiking in the dark was quite the adventure. We were lucky in so far as the moon was full and shedding much light as well. But still, you don’t see much more than what your headlamp shows you. If you turn the lamp off though, you could see many stars and off course the full moon so we took the time to take two long exposure photos in the dark.

View up the road with long exposure of the night sky. You can see a couple of the stars

View up the road with long exposure of the night sky. You can see a couple of the stars

First, we followed the “road” through the village and up to the entrance of the hiking track. Road is in quotation marks as it was a mixture between broken up asphalt, rough dirt and gravel. At one point, while following the asphalt, the road just disappeared into a drop. We took a picture of it on the way back.

The entrance to the hiking track is marked by a gate. This gate is an entrance monument for the pilgrimage up the mountain with Francis of Assis on it. Right behind the gate, steps start to lead up the mountain for a while. After a long series of stairs, the path turns into a dirt track that steeply climbs the mountain. Then it turns into goat tracks which zigzag up the side. One of the tracks had been “barred” with a branch; we took the advice and continued straight on.

First glimpse of the red sun

First glimpse of the red sun

At 5am, the birds all started to sing on cue as the first light appeared on the horizon. A red shimmer started to glow while we made our way towards the ridge. Our headlamps were unnecessary at this point. On the ridge, there was a nice little cleared area with a perfect view onto the horizon where we stopped and watched the red sun rise about all the smaller mountains in the vicinity. The views were grand; not only with the sun rising but also with the morning fog still hanging in the lower valleys. It looked as if we were the only people around for miles.

Sitting down to watch the sunset was lovely but also really, really cold. As soon as we stopped at such an exposed place, I began to shiver so Flo and I put on all the cloths we had brought including hats and fleece snoods. Looking like in the middle of winter we waited for this summer day to begin.

The statue isn't actually that big

The statue isn’t actually that big

After the sun had come up, we hiked the last part up to the platform to a statue of the Virgin Mary. The statue looks big on photos but is only about 1,50m in real life. Unexpectedly, there was a local up there, recording our arrival for the ministry of tourism.

From the platform, you can see far into every direction. Ramelau is pretty much in the center so you could see the ocean on two sides of the island of Timor. Indonesia/West Timor was visible in the west while Maubisse, Baucau and even the bay of Dili could be made out in the distance.

Standing on the highest point, looking over all the land stretching out to your feet was quite awe inspiring.

On the way back down, Flo and I were reminiscing about all the places we had been to already and struck with the idea of what is yet to come.

We took a different goat track down and realized that there had been a landslip at one point so that from there onwards, it was unpassable. Luckily, there were still zigzag tracks down to the other path that we had come up on. These were steep and slippery though so I was especially careful.

Now we could see what we climbed up in the dark

Now we could see what we climbed up in the dark

Now, with the sun up, we could see the surroundings of what we climbed in the dark which made retracing our steps a bit more fun than it usually is.

At about 10am, we were back at our guest house. We packed quickly and then sat down on the veranda for a break. Aldo appeared shortly but seemed to be too embarrassed to talk to us. He confirmed that he had overslept and then was not to be seen again. I guess he still felt bad about the $15 he could have earned as a guide…

Flo said he felt well enough to drive so we hopped on the bike, said our good-byes and took the long 18km of cobblestone road back out. Winding along three valleys, we didn’t stop much today as we already had a 6 hours hike behind us.

In Maubisse, we had a lovely lunch in the same café as yesterday. Coffee was one of the main selling points for Flo and also, the food had been good and much. I took a coke instead of coffee to wake myself up again as I could read the signs: Flo was eager to get back to Dili today instead of staying in Maubisse for the night.

Another four hours of driving later, we finally made it through all the road words again and were back in Dili. Herman and the other volunteers we asked were busy so we had time to wash clothes before heading off to bed at 8pm. I for my part was knackered at that stage.

Day 84 – Road. Works?

I am not sure why I mostly enjoyed myself on the road today. On paper, there was really not much reason for it. Maybe it was going well prepared, or the lighter bike, or just that the worst pain from the sunburn has worn off. The goal for the day was simple enough: Head 106km into the mountains and be there early enough to have a good long rest for a nightly hike up Tatamailau.

This is one of the better bits, no stopping at the bad ones

This is one of the better bits, no stopping at the bad ones

The first obstacle was an easy but annoying challenge to get through morning rush hour Dili. To get to the foot of the road going south into the mountains, we had to pretty much go through the city centre. Sweating but unscratched, we arrived at challenge number two: The entire first 800m climb is currently an 8 km long road works. Don’t get me, roads are in dire need of works, but they remain in full use while being torn to shreds.

The seal is gone where they work on the roads, leaving a talcum like dust with rocks strewn in between in its place. All is constantly churned up by the lorries and busses going along, seldom compacted and moderately slippery. That is until it is combined with water – then it becomes a soap-like mud. To keep the dust down somewhat, the road is of course watered. To add some fun to this mudslide, the road itself is an obstacle course of workers, concrete, building materials, lorries, houses, people, gaping holes and a good dose of pure anarchy. At least, everyone is reasonably polite about it.

Somewhere along the road

Somewhere along the road

The mountain road from here to within 20 km of Maubisse allows for great views (and gaping drops) but is of moderate to bad state, with the seal gone from 5-10% of the surface in ever changing pot hole and gap patterns. With little traffic it is mostly an exercise in “find the continuous seal” slalom, but every so often one has to come off the seal, 5-10 cm drops included, and then “bump-bump” back on again.

Before Maubisse, there are another 20 km of road works. These feature much the same, but somewhat less chaotic, which is appreciated. Even the dirt and gravel surface seems mostly compacted, except in the corners where the lorries made a powder of it again. In Maubisse (70 km from Dili) we stopped for lunch at a guest house and restaurant next to a big old church / nunnery. The food was good, affordable and they even got me good strong coffee at the end.

The last 50 km would take us another 2.5 hrs. First along the inter-district road south, again much the same as the road to Maubisse, maybe a bit worse. Here, on a steeper section where the seal has been washed out I stalled the bike going over a boulder and we dropped it, sliding a bit downhill afterwards. Nothing much happened, but I am thinking about reinforcing the Touratech pannier mounts where they bent a little.

Everyting shakes.

Everyting shakes.

The final obstacle of the day was another cracker. Turning off the main road, we would go up the mountains to a village / valley called Hato Builico. 18 km on a side road. In its defence, the road was not in too much disrepair – it just has always been terrible to begin with. Basically the entire length, it is a cobble stone road made up from about fist sized jagged rocks. Even with some air let out of the tires, going over 20 km/h would have shaken us and the bike to pieces. So we went, 18 km in first gear up the mountain, over passes 2120m high. My only worry was the clutch at some points, getting used extensively when even 1st gear was too much.

And thus we arrived, at 3pm, after a day of riding. To give you a little perspective on the roads: In New Zealand, our average speed in motion was 72km/h, in Australia it was 85 km/h (both including gravel sections). In Timor-Leste, it has been 32 km/h!

We booked into a guest house at the foot of the mountain we are keen to climb. Ronaldo, called Aldo, the 12 year old son of the shopkeeper was our English interpreter. We got a room, a very basic dinner and a guide for tomorrow. Mountain here we come!

Day 83 – The shortest post

Rocinante and feet

Chilling before the hike

Well, this post is actually written ‘tomorrow’, sitting on the porch of our Pousada and written on our phone instead of the surface.

Today’s motto was rest and prepare. Late night rugby meant that we were keen to sleep in and take it slow. A vague plan to go up the hill to Dare to visit the cafe and museum but never eventuated.

Most of the activity today was about investigating how we could go about climbing Tatamailau (Mount Ramelau) and then preparing for it. It is pretty remote, so we wanted to take some things with us just in case. Most importantly, we needed to break down some of our fresh $20 notes. Even if you can buy stuff, most places will not have more than $1-3 in change to hand out. Plus, Rocinante needed to be fueled up for the 120km journey.

The rest was sleeping, blogging, watching “Monster University” and reading. I picked up some public domain works for the Kindle in Darwin and am now enjoying Mark Twain’s “The Innocents Abroad” about his pilgramage boat trip to the Holy Land. Apart from being hilariously funny, I am blown away how relevant and current the book still is for the serious traveller. Go check it out if you are looking for some light reading, it is out there for free!

That is it for today, really 😉

Day 82 – Back to Dili for…RUGBY

We got up and had more bananas for breakfast. Packing was tough because Flo was so sun burnt and also many school kids passed us and they all wanted to talk.

A beach just out of Com.

A beach just out of Com.

We were quite glad to be back on the road. The scenery was still incredibly pretty, driving along the water front. In the beginning, we took our time taking some pictures of the livestock around us. Every animal seems to be a smaller version here. The pigs are quite small and the brown cows are comparatively tiny. They look more like deer than cows in some cases.

At 10.30am, we stopped at a roadside food vendor. Most of these tiny stalls sell rice soaked in coconut milk wrapped in banana leaves with a grilled fish of the day. Flo felt it was still too early for grilled fish, thus we had the rice on its own. It is quite tasty. While having our food, the lady’s kids had a look (and a touch) of our bike again while a little pig cleaned the ground underneath our table in case we’d dropped anything.

Spring fed pool, looks a bit out of place.

Spring fed pool, looks a bit out of place.

Around lunch time, we were back in Baucau. This time, we didn’t have the money to go to a restaurant so we had another banana break and a look around. The pool, which was empty when we had passed it on Thursday, was filled now and in good use. With our sun burn, we weren’t tempted in the slightest to join them…

The trip from Baucau to Dili is estimated to take another 3 hours. At another roadside eatery, Flo got his grilled fish in the end. 🙂

In one of the nooks of a hillside, there is a blessed spring. Not due to the blessedness but due to the water, the surroundings are very green and sheltered so a village with shops to both sides of the road has sprung up. This is a feat in and of itself as the road was built right on the edge so that half the houses have to be on stilts to reach the same level as the road. This village is quite busy during the day as overland city to city buses, mikrolets and tourists stop for a refreshment. I managed to buy chocolate cookies for 50c which compensated for Flo’s grilled fish.

Green only where there are springs. The road is below.

Green only where there are springs. The road is below.

The last bit of the road back to Dili was in excellent condition as it was just finished. It kept confusing our GPS which told us to turn around and go back to the road a couple of times because it didn’t know that this road existed.

Back in Dili we had a nap (longish) to prepare ourselves (or rather me) for the rugby game at midnight. The kiwi volunteers have a place in town where they go to watch the rugby world cup and we planned to go as well. After a late and yummy dinner at 9pm, I had another hour of sleep before Herman picked us up again, half an hour before the kick off.

The spirits were high as there were many more All Blacks supporters than Springbok ones. The game itself was way too close for my taste and I nearly suffered a heart attack a couple of times. BUT the All Blacks made it into the final now.

Day 81 – Jaco the ripper

Flo was up for the sunrise

Flo was up for the sunrise

It was time to dare. We were warned about this road, but no one can really tell you what you can ride in the end. So we decided to lighten our bike and give it a try, ready to stop or turn around if necessary. It turns out, we could have thought this through a lot better, but so is life.

After we pimped our included breakfast of canned butter and buns with some of our jam we felt ready to go. The caretakers of the mansion turned hotel were nice enough to allow us to store our gear in their living room and just with the two of us and a backpack, we felt as prepared as we could have been.

This is where we stopped. The track only got worse and we didn't wanna push it too much. Hiking along, we realized that we had stopped just in the right moment

This is where we stopped. The track only got worse and we didn’t wanna push it too much. Hiking along, we realized that we had stopped just in the right moment

The trip was downhill for as much of the 8 km trip as we managed to get down. The road was bad, fist sized rocks buried in dusty silt on a 20 degree angle. But the real deal breaker was when the road stared going a bit uphill again from a lower part of Tutuala maybe 2 km in: The bed of a mountain stream looks as much like a road as this. We made the call, asked a family to park our bike there and walk down. We forgot to take anything to secure our gear, so we took a leap of faith in them (nothing has been touched even 7 hrs later). Further, we left our hiking shoes with the rest of the gear, so we started walking in motorcycle boots …

It took us two and a half hours to get all the way down from the plateau to the water. The decision to leave the bike was definitively the right one. The “road” is for Hilluxs and trail bikes, or one could smash a local 125 with no care for tomorrow down there. What did we find at the end of the world? Three more Germans, waiting on the fishermen to be ferried over as well …

Knowing that the way we left our things would make it necessary to get out again today (estimated 3 hrs hike), we tried to communicate to the fisherman that we wanted to get picked up again by 1pm. This was made harder by the others who wanted to stay all day. Needs must, a $10 return ride in a fishermen’s boat is the only way to get to and from the uninhabited island.

That looks like a postcard

That looks like a postcard

Ah, so you may ask why do all that? Well, Jaco has the most beautiful beach I have been on in my life. And we had to share it with mere 3 other humans, which could be considered bad luck on a weekday. Plus, the marine life around here is supposed to be stunning as well – which was a bit hampered by our lack of gear. We got to borrow one set in the end and got to chase big fish in the pristine aquamarine water.

Our pick up came in the end, but maybe ¾ of an hour later than we would have hoped for, leaving us waiting desperate for shade on the beach. We used Nina’s sarong for some cover, which turned out to be a life saver.

Back on Timor proper we found a nun awaiting the return of her volunteers from the island. They had a ride, but she was unsure when they would go back, so we bit the bullet and started walking again – no lunch, one banana and 1.2 litres of water from the generous fishermen between us. Not the best of prerequisites for a 6 km hike climbing about 800m …

Hitching a ride on the back of a truck. By this point, Flo already realized how sun burnt he is

Hitching a ride on the back of a truck. By this point, Flo already realized how sun burnt he is

I started showing signs of a bad sunburn on my arms and legs, even though we used 30+ sunscreen at regular intervals. Only later that day I realised that this is another known side effect of the doxycycline we are using as malaria prophylaxis. I therefor walked covered up with Nina’s sarong as a sort of chador. About two thirds up came our much needed boost: The nun arrived with her wards in a Hillux, and we got a lift the last third of the way on the back of the truck.

After picking up our gear at 4:30 pm, getting my phone back that I forgot in our room that morning (the ladies of the house were soo lovely and brought it out first thing when we came back) it was time to get on the road once more with one final goal for the day: Find cheap accommodation. How cheap? Well, it also turned out that we were a bit low on cash. To have enough money for fuel back, we could not spend more than $20 US. We had heard of guest houses on the beach in Com, about 50 km from Tutuala on the direct route, or 80 km along “proper” roads.

I felt adventurous, so we stocked up on 50c instant noodles and bananas sold at a cock fight we passed and took the direct route. The unsealed track was a rollercoaster ride through smoothed ruts up to 50cm deep, but actually quite nice. Until we hit a small step in the landscape and the road went up a coral limestone cliff. Nina got off and I managed the 50m over jutting limestone of up to head sizes. We almost gave up at the second such step when I saw on the GPS that the road would turn “sealed” right around the corner. One last solo balance act later we were on top of the plateau on a good sealed track.

Lovely little farms in the evening light on our way to Com

Lovely little farms in the evening light on our way to Com

The last hurdle was the drop back down from the plateau to the coast. The road surface was 50-70% gone, but the beautiful village stretching the hill from the escarpment down to the sea made up for the bumpy ride. Villages in limestone cliffs, with springs and ancient trees growing over the rocks are just stunning.

We got to camp for $16 in the empty Com Beach Resort after waving our $20 note and putting on the sad puppy face. This place was bizarre. A proper resort style complex, with no staff or customers in sight. Just the buildings and furniture. I wonder who thought this would work out here …

In the evening we got to treat our sunburn (Nina’s back is burnt as well) with proper gel for burns and had a taste of the instant noodles. They didn’t taste too bad but something in them made the gum of your mouth hurt like a bruise you might get at a dentist’s…weird.

Day 80 – Back on the roa-wooha-d

The road was still good and lorries just honk politely to let you know that they are passing

The road was still good and lorries just honk politely to let you know that they are passing

This is it, I think this is what we came for. Everything is packed, devices charged, breakfast had, and we are back on the road. Still feels right, though as always it took me a moment to fully come to grips with how heavy this behemoth that is us in travel model really is.

Dili was crossed without incident and we left familiar roads on the eastern beach to climb up and across the hill to come down on the other side and the beach road. The potholes don’t hide for long, but on this section they are mere backbreakers anyway (compared to the “rip your panniers off”-craters in the road after Baucau). Better still, traffic is calm and everyone from motorcycle to lorry driver is relaxed and respectful.

We were taking it very slow: to get a feel for the road, to acclimatise and to look out for whatever wonder may lay on the road side. Thus, we made it to Baucau by 12:30, in time for lunch. We went to a Portuguese restaurant recommended by Joris. The food was good if not maybe a bit uptown for us.

When we came back from lunch Rocinante had company. They were all sitting politely next to the bike but the seat was covered in tiny barefoot footprints that are not Flo's...

When we came back from lunch Rocinante had company. They were all sitting politely next to the bike but the seat was covered in tiny barefoot footprints that are not Flo’s…

The restaurant was down from the road a bit on a terrace overlooking the school below. As we came back, a little group of boys was hard at work inspecting our bike. One of them was frantically trying to remove dusty footprints from the seat with a comically small tissue 🙂

This should become a theme though. The bike with the two of us on it is about as inconspicuous as an ice cream truck playing heavy metal. Shouts of “malae” and “mister, mister” plus a hundred things unrecognised follow our every footstep. Wherever we stop, the bike is like a magnet sucking in everyone within 10m. It turns out the world map is a great conversation starter.

View from "our" mansion onto the mountains

View from “our” mansion onto the mountains

The road further east was substantially worse, but still manageable. Sometimes whole sections were missing or had potholes the size of cars. So 60km/h is the absolute maximum, because at any moment there could be a 10 cm drop in the tarmac. My brand new rear tyre has so much thread left that it touched the crossbar of the luggage rack a couple of time in particularly deep drops.

We pushed on through many villages and ended up at the “end of the road” in Tutuala, 8km from our final destination in the east, Jaco Island. I would not dare to try the road from the plateau to the beach fully loaded and tired after hearing many horror stories about it. Thus, we ended up in the colonial mansion turned hotel on top of the village. It is a little above our price range, but it is the only option up here it seems. At least we have power, reception and a shower. Oh, and marvellous views over the town and the east to west seaside cliffs.

 

 

Day 79 – Liberation day!

Finally, after 25 days of waiting, cursing and hoping, Rocinante is free. As of 10:30 today, she is officially back on the (East Timorese) road! Too long. Never again container shipping!

Am i in the way?

Am i in the way?

It took us a bit to decide what we were to do now. Go now? Take our time and leave tomorrow morning? In the end, we decided for the more relaxed version. After nearly 3 weeks without the bike and our gear all over the place, packing took a bit of time.

Around 2ish, we were mostly done. We needed to stock up on a couple of things and, of course, get more fuel than what was left in the tank after shipping. Heading out to refill our tyres with air was a little adventure in itself. Flo had seen a tiny shop that had air. Stopping there, we caused a little uproar. People are not used to such big bikes and would stop on the street, just to look at us. The shop owners on the other hand were delighted that we came to them and asked all sorts of questions. The most popular ones seem to be “how big is the engine?” and “where do you come from?”. We left with much waving and headed for the backpackers to say

good bye to the travellers we met there. Hubert and Alex were still cleaning their bikes for the shipping and were easily spotted. Marten and Reed said hi as well while we were parked in the yard.

A last shopping stop at Timor Plaza with more questions later, we were done. Smaller chores still had to be done and Flo hopped back on the bike to organize dinner and get our flash drives back which we had lend to Joris.

In the evening, we watched “No” with Gael García Bernal, which felt oddly right in Timor-Leste.