Timur, Nusa Tengara Timur

While Claire was finishing the last details for her flights back to Noumea, I went to Toll to fill up the forms about the insurance claim. It’s quite straightforward in terms of process, as James explained, but it will be denied at first, and I must appeal afterwards. There is however, one chance in a hundred a promise of a reward might bring some or all of the missing items. It’s very frustrating to know someone went through our things. As we were packing this morning, I noticed a few other things went missing as well, such as my Bluetooth hands-free earpiece, or a pack of chewing gum. Go figure.

Anyways, after leaving the form in James’ capable hands, I went back to the backpackers, picked up Claire, and we left Dili at noon.
The road to the border is as bad as the rest of the country, but the scenery is just superb. Village after village, we drove alongside the coast. Sometimes the road went up the cliff, leaving a sheer drop to the sea, which made Claire grab the handle on the dash as hard as she could; sometimes it was a peaceful road next to a pristine beach.

Then here it was, the border. First “real” border crossing for Troopy. The process is quite simple in fact; first we went to the customs office on Timor Leste side, got our stamp on the Carnet, and another one on our passports. Then a 500m road through a no-man’s-land and a few pictures later, with a dozen kids popping out of nowhere, posing next to the car, and we were in Indonesia.

And of course, we don’t speak Indonesian. So, when the officer handed over a form, I had to ask him for his help, but he clearly had better things to do. So we sort of guessed the answers, but that seemed to be correct. Next, a junior officer went quickly through the car, the bags and the content of the fridge to make sure we did not smuggle anything out of the ordinary, and we got our entry stamps on the Carnet. Further along, yet another stamp on the passports, then a quick interview with the military boys. The one who did speak English was clearly more interested in Claire than in me, since he kept talking to her while I was transparent, but ten minutes later, all paperwork was done, and we were on our way.

Oh the joy of driving in fifth gear! Smooth tarmac at last! Yay!

Again, the road following the coast was selected and we made our way through the first villages. And just like Timor Leste, we were waving and cheering the children alongside the road, their cute smiles and eyes fixed on Tanami. Pretty soon it was time to find a camp spot. Our first two attempts were disastrous, all we got as an answer to “Saya mencari tempat kemah” or “Bissa tidur” (Indonesian for “I’m looking for a campsite” and “Can I sleep here”) was a gaping mouth and vacant eyes. Obviously, our Indonesian is a bit rusty, and quite frankly, we’re probably the only persons who’ve ever asked them for a campsite.

But third time lucky, when we stopped in Mena for directions to the beach, the family spontaneously offered us a difficult choice: you can either go, and camp on the beach following that road, or you can stay here with us, in our home.

Pretty soon we found ourselves sitting in their front yard, like king and queen, with the whole family and neighbors and possibly the whole village around us. Johannes and his daughters Erna and Valeria spoke enough English to help as translators, and we got to know the whole family. Millions of questions were shot at us, and magically coffees and drinks appeared on the table, which also spontaneously popped up. Then while Claire was dragged by the women into the house, I got invited by Johannes to visit the rice processing machine (separating the grains from their husks and bagging them) and meet his wife, our hostess Elizabeth.

Back home, dinner got quickly prepared, and following the local custom, we were first to eat in the kitchen, while the family waited outside. A somewhat intimidating custom but it actually is a great form of respect to let your guests eat the best food available, alone, and first.
After dinner we got to know them a bit better. Johannes works as a teacher at the local elementary school, teaching English amongst other subjects. Elizabeth works at the rice factory and manages the house. Delphiana looks after the little shop next to the house; selling petrol in glass bottles alongside the road brings the most profit. Erna is also a teacher at the school, her husband recently died and she has three children. Since she speaks rather well English I enlisted her as my teacher. Valeria also spoke English and kept on complimenting Claire, and Vungenzia (not sure about her name though) was very shy but she also was very friendly.

In a very catholic family, Sunday means church. As it was too difficult to explain we weren’t religious (atheist I might say for myself), we pretended we were married and church going as well. So we all went, in the car, Johannes in the front and the women cramped in the back, and listened for an hour to mass in Bahasa… Interesting experience to say the least.

After Church, we all went to the beach, with the picnic table and the rice, the vegetables, plates and cutlery, all that in the car, and enjoyed a feast of sardines freshly caught and bought on the spot. Of course, the local villagers all wanted to be on the pictures, so many pictures were yet again taken. We felt like stars really, until it got too crowded and I went for a swim, alone. Aaah fame.
Monday morning was time for goodbyes again, thank you so much for the hospitality, the Indonesian welcome, the friendly home. And the Indonesian lessons of course, I have a feeling we will use them often. We now can count, introduce ourselves, ask for directions and bargain when shopping. Too bad we can’t understand the answers yet. Thank you Erna, my own private teacher!

So we reached Kefamenau at lunchtime, after crossing small then smaller and yet even smaller roads and villages. The further we went, the more remote it got, but wherever we went, waves and smiles and friendly faces is all we saw.
After a refuel (200 litres at 4500rp, roughly 45cents per litre, that’s cheap) and a quick lunch, where we discovered a local treat: sirsak jus! (soursop in English, corossol in French, check Wikipedia, it’s the best fruit ever). Soursop is a fruit about the size of a football (Aussie rules not soccer), with a green and spiky skin. It grows in the tropical regions and I discovered this little wonder in Caledonia, along with jackfruit and custard-apple. The interior is creamy, white, with large pips. The taste is something between kiwi fruit, pear, lime… Very hard to describe, it’s sweet yet acidic, like lemon juice on a ripe banana. Anyways, I love this.

They mix it with condensed milk and a bit of chocolate sirup. Yum! Double yum! So after refuel and lunch, we checked into a cheap hotel to take a shower and a nap, before dinner. Again, at 2 dollars per person, it’s a lot cheaper than cooking in fact.
Late morning the next day then we drove off to Eban, through very difficult terrain. I’m pretty sure we were the first car in a very long time through the rivers and mountains we crossed. Eventually we made it and stopped at the market to get some supplies, lunch and find a camp spot.

Now, don’t get me wrong, we’re very grateful for the welcoming, the warmth, the smiles, the people wanting to talk to us and touch us and see the car and so forth, but after a while we just need some peace and quiet, some silence and some privacy. So into the woods we went, and found a quiet spot to make a fire, cook dinner and enjoy the silence!

Pancake for breakfast! How cool is camping! And the night was so quiet, so peaceful, it’s perfect. And to top it up, coffee! Without sugar! Let me explain. Indonesian don’t drink “coffee” but “kopi” which is coffee, unfiltered, with a full tablespoon of sugar. So it’s a very strong yet very sweet beverage, which after a while makes you miss black coffee so dearly you start speaking in Italian.

Down the road we went, towards the south coast. We stopped on the way to buy honey and the first (and actually the only one) soursop fruit we saw, which we bargained at a third of the price, then went on south. The road deteriorated further along, through the mountains, to the point of disappearing completely due to various landslides. Nothing much grows very deep, which causes landslides and various avalanches, as the soil is merely a meter of dirt on top of chalk. Not to mention most trees have been cut down over the years to build houses, with little replantation.

So more than once we had to turn around and find another way, while the road was being repaired. And since the terrain is difficult, roads don’t
go “around” a summit, it just goes over it. So at one point, the bus in front of us had to offload its passengers and cargo, to be able to climb the hill. Troopy went up just fine but Claire wasn’t very relaxed, to say the least. I can understand though, we were driving on the crest, while on either side of us, hundred meters of drop and down below, what’s left of the road.

Anyhow, we reached Kolbano’s beachside around 4pm and set up camp. By then the weather had completely changed and a strong wind was blowing inland. Starting a fire in these conditions isn’t easy so we built a shelter with palm leaves and coconut branches before we could get a fire going. Potatoes and carrots, a welcome change from the usual rice and noodles.

With a very windy and rainy night, we got little sleep, but the bad weather means no one comes to check us out, and ask for a photo or where we come from. This means only one thing: get some water boiling and get a hot shower! Luxury!

Due to the composition of the soil, which Claire can explain a lot better than me, the water floods rapidly the area, rather than gets absorbed. So on either side of the road as we drove towards Kupang, flooding and large pools of mud were all we saw. Not to mention the potholes
But as we got nearer Kupang the roads got better and better. Large roads, lots of traffic, yep, we’re getting close to the city now. We stopped in a dodgy little restaurant for lunch, served by a midget, an overweight lady who spoke alone and an obviously mentally challenged teen with a missing eye and a very strange sound coming out of his jaw. He’s been given the role of traffic warden, or at least people humour or indulge him, so we go the best parking spot. Oh and the calendar in the place is from 2002, and you should see the decoration and the furniture. Just like the creep shows in the circus from the 19th and 20th century. Or a Tim Burton movie.

Early afternoon we got into Kupang, a day before expected, so we booked into a hotel as our CouchSurfing host is expecting us tomorrow only. The room was advertised with hot water but no such luck, they did bring a bucket of hot water though, so that “Mrs Clarisse can wash her hair”.
Dinner at the night market was just amazing. And we discovered another local treat: advokat jus! Same principle: crushed ice, condensed milk, chocolate and advocado. Will it blend? Oh yeah! Soooo good!

Total to-day: 725km (539 in Indonesia), total: 21423km

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