Since Timor itself appears to be quite the island paradise it seems a tad interesting that two-five kilometres off the coast lies another island paradise, Atauro Island. To get there you need to take the ferry and it is here where our story begins.
The ferry leaves from the Port and hours before arrivals and departures the streets brim with Timorese carrying bags, children and often herding a goat or two. The Saturday ferry, which we were to catch, usually leaves at 9am . . . usually. This is Dili. Usually a 9am departure might equate to 10:30am, but on this occasion it did not. Instead the text came round: “Ferry is leaving at 6. Be at Hotel Timor at 5:30.” We didn’t know why. All we knew was that the Timorese man who bought the tickets for us was advising us to be there at 5:30. The key here is Timorese.
Locals may not be the best scribes or mathematicians but when it comes to knowing that the President’s called an impromptu public holiday for the next day or there’s a road closure for a procession, they are the people to listen to. So we did indeed gather at 5:30am and the ferry did indeed leave at 6am . . .ish. And to be fair the ‘ish’ was only ten minutes, which I’m guessing is something of a record. Since only the Timorese and those malae with Timorese connections knew about the time change, some less fortunate malae missed the boat – literally.
The rest of us sailed on and experienced something that we all considered extremely odd – the choice of on-board entertainment. Let me pause here and remind readers of the bloody and murderous twenty-five year occupation by the Indonesians. And remember the Timorese only got their independence ten years ago. Right then. What film to show? Finding Nemo? Maybe even Pirates of the Caribbean. Come on, have a guess. I bet you’re wrong. I hope you are. But let’s not digress into a discussion of your mental state. The first film was . . . John Rambo. Yep, uh huh. Sylvester Stallone pounding through the jungle killing people. Killing people!!! Killing people that were killing people that reminded us at least of the twenty-five years of Indonesian occupation. The Timorese however, were apparently unperturbed. I tried to sleep, hoping, probably against hope, that the violent messages wouldn’t reach into my subconscious. Another of our merry band of eight women reported that some Timorese were really getting into it, clapping when the baddies were overpowered. Perhaps it was a release . . . of sorts. But wait there’s more . . . yep, uh huh. Rambo III. As one savvy non-viewer remarked, “Only the location changes . . .oh and this time they’re wearing head scarves.” Ah yes, nothing like a bit of blood and gore to preface a relaxing weekend on a tropical island paradise.
Fortunately the island paradise was just that. We stayed at the only accommodation on the island (since the eco-resort closed), Barry’s. Barry is an Australian so you can imagine how relaxed the atmosphere is: Australian + island paradise = close to coma quiet. The accommodation was excellent, nice plump pillows, thick mattresses and mosquito nets. The food was scrumptious – and there was lots of it.
So we snorkelled and swam and read and chatted. At night we did pop-psychology quizzes on each other and on the other unsuspecting guests. It was magic.
The water was truly as clear as glass, which was just as well because for the first twenty metres or so directly off-shore it was weed, weed and more weed. But then . . . look between the blades of weed and there were succulent sea cucumbers, all plump and wrinkly; white fish, blue fish, stripey fish, even a sea snake and a couple of eels.
On Sunday after a swim, a snorkel and breakfast, we hired mechanical tuk-tuks and drivers to take us to the women’s co-op. Women on the island make bags and dolls and jewellery which they sell to tourists. They did good trade; mainly because their work is beautiful. The quality is unsurpassable for the price; real value for money.
Then it was sadly time to leave. For the homeward journey we chartered a boat. The price is exorbitant and the more in-the-know amongst our number complained most vociferously to the driver who assured us he didn’t set the pricing. Apparently a new boat is coming on board (pardon the pun) with much cheaper rates. The competition will be interesting to watch.
Back on Dili’s soil we vowed to make another trip soon . . . in fact, I think it was Monday morning when the email came round: “I’ve booked Barry’s for the first weekend in March. Who’s in?” Pick me!! Pick me!!
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