Date: 03 August 2010
Location: Dili, Timor Leste
The plane touched down on the tarmac with a rough bump, and upon getting out of the plane I was accosted by an oppressive wave of warmth. The heat was thick in the air, in a manner that both suffocated and offered no relief as a breeze blew in.
I'd been on many runways in my life, but seeing one like this was a unique experience. The airport was probably the simplest I'd ever seen for an international airport. It was flanked on one side by palm trees, and on the other by a high grilled fence. There was a sign that said "Welcome to Timor Leste", and that was it. About the only welcome message you would get in English.
When I entered the terminal, I could not help but notice that all the security personnel were from the UN. They came from a variety of countries, China, Thailand, Singapore and several other nations whose names I knew not because they were written in a foreign language. It was a reminder that even after so many years, the security of this fledgling nation still lay in the hands of outsiders.
Any illusion I had that this place would be anything like Singapore was quickly dispelled when the chartered bus came to pick us up. There wasn't enough space in the bus, so we had to load our luggage on the roof deck of the bus, which was a challenge, especially with the heavier pieces. The seats were ripped and torn, with the padding inside showing, and there was no air conditioning. You simply sat and tolerated the sweltering heat.
The streets of Dili were fascinating, because they resembled Malaysia but in a previous stage of development, maybe 30 years before. People clung precariously to the sides of buses, children played with dogs and chickens on the streets, and graffiti was scrawled across every wall imaginable. Every house was surrounded by a high fence tipped off with barb wire, to keep out stones and stone throwers.
Everywhere I went I got strange looks from the locals. Perhaps it was my camera, or how I looked and dressed unlike the people here. It seemed that wherever I went people took notice and behaved differently. Some would approach trying to sell me all manners of odds and ends, and the kids would pose for pictures, only to run shyly for cover once I put my camera to my eye.
The hotel was comfortable enough, nothing fancy but spacious and spartan, only that I broke the handle of the toilet door while trying to lock it, and during my shower the shower head came off in my hand and I was left with the hose.
Dinner was spent with talking to Singaporeans who had worked and stayed in Timor Leste for an extended period of time, and during this session we learnt more about the country we now found ourselves in. If there was any word I would use to describe this country I now found myself in, it would be raw. The whole place felt raw, from the stage of development, to my impression of its people.
The journey begins. 18 more days to go.