On Thursday's I teach at ANZ and as on Tuesday, I set off with gusto, determined, this time to avoid the whole market traffic jam experience.
I turned onto Beach Rd and into a traffic jam. What the? It was quarter past four on a Thursday afternoon. What was with all the traffic? We putted along and, being on a scooter, I did indeed scoot as far as my skill and daring allowed. This time I followed the correct directions - straight, right, right, park - and arrived slowly, but surely.
On the way home I figured the traffic would have dissipated. Maybe there had been an accident (my students assure me there are many accidents in Dili and that I should definitely be careful). So I mounted my bike and set off. All fine for a couple of blocks. Then Beach Rd becomes one way and you have to weave around one major road and a couple of back streets. My aim in these situations is always to get back to Beach Rd which is a straight run home with none of those troublesome turns. As I weaved it struck me (fortunately not literally) that there was an inordinate amount of traffic. I wanted to turn right. There was a stream of traffic behind me. I admit it. I'm a coward. I pulled over and waited for a break in the traffic. I waited . . . and waited and finally when a truck blocked one way and a taxi approached too slowly from the other I zipped across the road. Yippeee! Beach Rd would be up ahead and I would be home and hosed.
Except . . . except . . . traffic was stopped. Not just idling. Stopped. I pulled over and idled, weighing up my options. I could turn around and head into the black street behind me and hope that my inner compass would lead me home. Or I could sit in traffic and hope that I could get home before midnight. Inner compass. Home - eventually. Not much of a choice really. The only thing I trusted about my inner compass was that it would definitely lead me to somewhere far worse than a road with a lot of parked cars . . .tee hee, including a couple of UN vehicles!!! (Oh vengeful glee, you are so unattractive and yet, so wonderfully satisfying).
Others on two wheels managed to navigate beside the parked vehicles. I tried this and managed to get further along the road. A local encouraged me to go round his parked truck. I did so with a chirpy, "Obrigada!" Beach Rd was bumper to bumper traffic. It did crawl with all the urgency of a hundred-year-old turtle. We two-wheelers didn't exactly zip along either, but we did putter on the shoulder, gradually, gradually inching our way along. I counted the landmarks. Block of land with UN generators. Chinese Embassy. Japanese Embassy. Korean Embassy. Only at the Korean Embassy. Geez! Beach Cafe. Closer. Castaway Bar. Even Closer. Dili Beach Hotel. Yippee!!! I hung a sharp left and veritably zipped through the side streets to home.
As I luxuriated in the shower, I confess I smiled as I wondered just how far all those big-arse UN vehicles had gotten. Ah yes, size really does matter.
PS. I found out the next day that there was a function at the Palacio de Govonero. They were inducting a new Commandant. I'm guessing that this involved a lot of very important officials because they closed two major roads for the event. There you go - car park explained.
No comments:
Post a Comment