Fun and Games on the East Timor Sea
DARWIN TO EAST TIMOR SEA
FEBRUARY 12-13
I caught a taxi to Perkins Shipping complex, by the Darwin waterfront.
"East Timor? You're going to East Timor?" said the driver. "You be careful there."
I laughed. East Timor was not going to be the problem, from what I'd read. It was West Timor that was dicey.
Mark Norman of Perkins Shipping couldn't have been nicer. He personally drove me down to the ship, and even insisted on carrying my monster-pack. The M/V Arktis Atlantic itself was a small ship when compared with the Direct Kiwi. It carried 250 containers as compared to the thousand that I'd crossed the Pacific with.
M/V Arktis Atlantic, courtesy Perkins Shipping
Captain Thomsen was Danish, and so was the Chief Engineer. The other eight crewmembers were Filipino, as was the Chief Mate's wife, on board for a short visit.
The Captain showed me my quarters -- the ship's office, complete with en suite bathroom and fold-out bunk. Monet prints adorned the walls -- a far cry from the shipwreck art in my last cabin.
My cabin.
A pilot called Wolf drove us out of the Darwin harbor, before a small speedboat picked him up and we were left to our own devices.
Perkins Shipping was the only regular company supplying East Timor and the UN's work there. The nickname for the Arktis Atlantic was the "Dili Bus." Captain Thomsen had been on the route since "Independence Day," in late '99. The first time he'd gone in had been scary -- there had been an Indonesian warship anchored right next to the Arktis Atlantic, and Dili had been in flames.
The Captain had gotten braver the next time. Dili had been completely deserted, as the survivors of the massacre had hidden in the hills. He had rented a motorbike and ridden all over East Timor. He hadn't seen a single person, and Dili was a skeleton of burned colonial Portuguese buildings, but the East Timor countryside, he said, was beautiful.
While far from normal, the situation was developing routines and backpackers were trickling in. Three backpackers had recently been begging for a lift to Darwin, but the Captain had sent them to the airport.
Officer at work.
The supplies that came in on the Dili Bus were fresh, having come up late in the week on giant Australian "road trains." I'd seen a few of these in the Outback -- they were enormous tractor-trailers lugging three or four containers of fresh fruit, meats, and supplies. The containers went straight to the ship, and 36 hours later were distributed throughout East Timor. Sometimes the UN troops had fresher food than Darwin restaurants.
I was wearing a Transderm motion sickness patch when I went to sleep, but it wasn't clear whether the side effects were actually worse than seasickness. Side effects were severe thirst, dizziness, and blurry vision. Seasickness, though, was pretty unpleasant.
Crashing woke me up. The cabin was lurching from side to side. Chairs were overturned and sliding back and forth, and the Captain's papers were strewn about the floor. The garbage had overturned, and my pack was rolling around. I tried to straighten things out and sleep, but the sea was mischievous and sleep was not an option. It was one of the worst trips yet, said the Captain, and no doubt Darwin's cyclone and wet season were responsible.
By the second night, I'd thrown away my seasickness patch in disgust. The seas were calmer, but I took precautions and strategically placed the furniture anyway.
EAST TIMOR SEA TO DILI
FEBRUARY 14
I had tried sitting on deck and reading, but the deck chair, even with me in it, kept sliding around. I'd retired to the ship's office and sat there reading Australian travelogues when the intercom buzzed to life.
"Marie," said the Captain's voice, "you can see Dili out the port side."
Dili in sight
I rushed out to the left side of the deck. East Timor was beautiful from a distance. Its lush, green landscape reminded me of Bali without the rice paddies -- except that there was a giant statue of Jesus overlooking the town. East Timor was predominantly Catholic.
My Lonely Planet guide explained that the Jesus statue was 27 meters tall -- one meter for each province of Indonesia. Maybe they should lop one off, I thought.
The Captain deftly parked the ship, and the ground crew stared at me. I was obviously not part of the crew. By the time I got back to the Ship's Office, Customs was there in force, waiting for me with an entry card. They weren't too sure what to do with me, and they seemed saddened that I only planned to stay for two days.
Customs took me to an air-conditioned room, and they stared at me some more. Finally, it occurred to someone to stamp my passport. There was the small matter of locating the stamp, the stamp pad, and then they had to figure out how to change the date on the stamp. Finally, I was reprimanded again for my short stay and let loose into Dili.
NEXT: You can't get there from here. Stuck in the wild frontier of Dili.
