Waiting....
After the mad rush of the last 2 weeks, I'm finally in the airport "lounge" heading home. And again the plane is delayed due to 'rotational reasons'. Sushma left yesterday; her plane was also scheduled to leave at 13h30 only to leave at 16h00. Like mine is looking to do today. I wonder if she made her connecting flight? It's 15h11 and the screen still promises me that my flight MZ8490 to Denpasar will depart at 14h00!
At least I fly out of Bali at 20h00 (22h00 here) so there are some hours between arriving and leaving. It feels weird that my assignment is over - sure there's still some writing and collaboration to do, but essentially my part is done. And maybe I'll be back. Who knows?
I leave this little island of about 1 million inhabitants touched, moved and changed by how similar some things are to my home and how vastly different others are. The people of Timor-Leste, of Timor-Lorosa'e (where the sun rises) are still a mystery to me. And that's not just the veil of the language barrier. I'm not sure outsiders ever fully understand them. Their legends even proudly speak of how impenetrable the mysteries of their forests, the internal forests, are. On the one hand they are warm, inviting, friendly and welcoming; on the other swift to anger, ready to fight. Yet in the face of great hardship and deprivation, accepting of their fate.
This island, in truth I've only been exposed to this city, whose surface I have barely scratched with my little study holds so much promise if only... if only what? If only the spark to fire the engine can be found...
Leaving Dili.....
An empty window seat in my row meant that I got a front-row seat to the unfolding majesty of the world that dropped below me. From my vantage point high up in the sky even Timor-Leste looks idyllic - finally. It's clearly untouched in many places. As we fly over the Indonesian archipelago, island after island just screams to be in a tourist brochure. Verdant mountains, a ring of white sandy beaches, warm shallows clearly delineated and encircled by living coral reefs before the turquoise, the azure and the aquamarine vie with one another for my attention. Some of the islands look like gigantic stepping stones from one paradise to another right where I would have put them if I had been the landscaper.
Now the seatbelt sign has come back on again as we hit some turbulence caused by the puffy white clouds down below. As we bank to our right, the island below seems a bit more built up, more populated. As far as the eye can see though up here, the sky is populated by puffy white clouds now moving slowly in unison at a tropical pace.
Another bank to the right, then a sharp veer to the left and we're on course for Denpasar, Bali. 27 degrees the captain promises. No steamy overnight stay for me this time I'm afraid. I'm looking forward to the gentle warmth of being back in familiar surroundings, with my loved ones and the comfort of ordinary days, seen through new eyes hopefully, felt with renewed vigour and experienced with a new clarity.
Denpasar, Bali....
Arriving at Denpasar, this time in transit, I still believe we should relocate our airport to Blouberg. There's something incredible about seemingly skimming the waves as the plane comes in to land..
Time has gone backwards. It's a strange phenomenon to arrive at a new place at more or less the same time that you left! And who says time is not relative?
Several of my fellow travelers from Dili are speaking heatedly to an airlines official because it seems they have missed their connecting flight. The 2-hour delay in Dili has messed with their plans to be in Kathmandu and other destinations tonight.
In the transit area (lounge is far too intimate a word) the air is heavy with incense; someone is rhythmically beating a wooden chime and a thin metal bell while a flute or a lyre is playing. Indonesia truly is a melting-pot of cultures. Everywhere are the weary faces of travelers in transit, en route to somewhere, en passant from somewhere else.
My luggage is about 18 kgs overweight. I had to ditch the Timorese coffee in Dili unfortunately and some other non-essentials. There they wanted to charge me US$70 extra and eventually settled on US$40 - all the loose money I had on me. Here an airline official informs me that the cost is a prohibitive US$48/kg!!! That would amount to a massive US$864!. But if I pay him under the table I can give him US$400! I finally pay him Rps2,000 000 or about US$210. I feel raped. Again I was taken in by the smile of that pretty airline official who seemed so helpful but failed to give me my US$5 change for the US$20 I gave her for the airport taxes. It's not money that makes the world go round but corruption! This has been an expensive trip!!!!
This transit area is incredible. Row upon row of duty-free shops selling everything from batiks to incense sticks to foot massages. A whole economy to rival the whole of Dili's. In the men's bathroom it is a little disconcerting to watched by a fish swimming lazily around in its tank, all the while staring unblinkingly at you.
There is the call for my flight... I now need to make a great trek to find Gate number 3....
23h50 Changi Airport, Singapore
Made it to Singapore without mishap. Much has changed in the 12 years since I last set foot in this airport. Changi airport has been made even more extensive (and more upmarket) than I remember from my first visit to the Far East. On my flight back from Bangkok then I also flew back via Singapore and I seem to recall that the departure time was fairly similar. Then I had my colleague Ron's big toe peeking through a hole in his sock to contend with while he caught some shut-eye. Thankfully,at least that has changed.
What hasn't changed is the glint in everyone's eye as we wait for the boarding gates to open. It's the glint that is there no matter how tired everyone looks or feels.It's a look that says "I'm going home!!!"