This is my first time at 'Blogging' so I'll try not to get into navel gazing and believing that what I have to say is important, although I see I've already started.
This blog will try to be about life in East Timor as I see it on a daily basis, from the political to the ridiculous, although in this place the two are rarely mutually exclusive.
A little background on me (of course) first. As I sit and compose this masterpiece I look out of my office window at the Wetar Strait, which is a part of the Banda Sea which in turn is a part of the Indian and Pacific Ocean region. Sometimes I am lucky enough to sea large whales swimming past, Humpbacks, Tropical Blues, Fin-whales and some I have yet to identify. Also pods of dolphins show themselves. The ocean is about 50metres from my window with a main road inbetween. Some of the things that go past on the road are more interesting, and weird, than the things going past in the ocean.
Just to the left of my view is a small fruit and vegetable stall which also sells such staples as Marlboro's, Tiger beer and the local palm wine, Tuak. The stall is also a bit of a local community hangout with the resident bad boys holding sway, women screaming at their horrible kids through betel-nut stained mouths and taxi drivers checking in with the bad boys every half hour or so. The taxi drivers let the bad boys know what is going on in the rest of Dili, carry weapons and booze and also ferry the boys to where they are needed if there is a decent fight on.
Just offshore there are normally two or three container ships sitting at anchor waiting to come into Dili and offload our much needed supplies of Western consumer goods: potato chips, frozen meat, shoes that fit western feet, car parts, even more vehicles for the UN (United Nations), construction materials, anything made by Sony and of course, a good supply of alcohol.
These ships are very important to us. They are our basic lifeline to a world a lot of us have slightly turned our backs on but to which we are loath to sever all ties with.
Sometimes the ships sit at anchor for days for various reasons; maybe the tides are too low for easy entry to the small harbour, maybe the customs officials have decided to take a few days off or maybe the IDP's (Internally Displaced Persons) are rioting and attacking the wharf again. Life here is never uninteresting. Boring yes, uninteresting no.
I am writing all this rubbish on-line which is probably costing me a fortune so I'll sign off now to gather a few thoughts, observations and opinionated twaddle.