There were some noticeable differences once I had crossed
the border, the first of which was the excellent condition of the roads and the
signage that made navigation much easier. Although village life seemed very
similar in both countries the villages were much more closely interspersed in
West Timor, one village would end and another would start without me even
realising. The cities and major towns had a much livelier feel to them, they
were certainly more densely populated than Dili and seemed to be much more
colourful and vibrant.
The first major town I came across was Atambua, needless
to say I got lost almost immediately, after riding aimlessly through the town
and passing the same group of police hanging out at the side of a roundabout 3
times I thought it might be wise to ask for directions. The cops were another
shining example of Indonesian hospitality, once they found out I was heading to
Kefamenanu they soon assigned 2 cadets on motorcycle to escort me to the right
road and once I convinced the officer in charge that him taking my bike for a
spin was a bad idea I was off with my police escort. I needed petrol so we took
a detour to a service station where we jumped a queue of about 30 vehicles, I
was pretty embarrassed but nobody seemed to mind, they just ushered me through
and checked out the bike, VIP treatment at its finest. We reached the road to
“Kefa” and with many thanks on my behalf I bid my escort goodbye.
I stayed in a hotel in the town of Soe, very happy about
the much more affordable cost of travelling and accommodation in Indonesia
compared to Timor Leste. The East half of West Timor seems to have an eclectic
mix of languages and I was quite surprised that the hotel clerk couldn’t speak
Bahassa Indonesian, this certainly was no help in my continuous struggle of
communication. The Road from Soe to Kupang was fantastic, the road wound its
way from village to village with street vendors lining the roads, I stopped
along the way to sample some of the local street food, which was delicious, unfortunately
the 110 km stretch to Kupang finished all too soon.
I had planned to stay in Kupang for just one day and was
in luck because the ferry for Larantuka, Flores left the next morning, I went
to check out Crystal Cave, a local underground swimming hole and bumped into
some locals who spoke English, as always in Indo the bike was a great
conversation starter and I was soon invited home for a meal by a guy called Umbu. Once again the hospitality
blew me away, I was soon drinking Aruk (palm wine) and chewing on Betel nut
with Umbu’s dad who helped me learn a few simple phrases in Bahassa. It goes to
show that it is often the people you meet that make the place what it is, I
decided to postpone the Ferry trip to Flores and spend an extra 3 days in
Kupang. As with most Indonesian guys, Umbu had a keen interest in bikes so he
kindly acted as a bit of a tour guide for me for the next few days, which meant
that I got to experience some really interesting local places, people and food.
My bike was covered in mud so he took me to a local bike wash and set some kids
to work cleaning the big girl, once they got over the shock of the job at hand
they had a ball, jostling for position to get a chance to do a little cleaning.
At one stage there were seven of them washing the bike at once, they were
having a ball and although I had to rely on Umbu to translate I had an
entertaining time watching them. They certainly took pride in their work, when
they were done it was the cleanest the bike had been for a long time, I paid
triple the usual price and it was still dirt cheap. The local kids in Kupang
are absolutely hilarious, I’d pass them riding or bump into groups of them when
I visited the local waterfalls and caves, it was always guaranteed that I would
be followed by yells of “Mister, Mister, Mister”. They were a mischievous bunch
and were pretty happy with the fact that a westerner was doing the rock jumps
into the water with them, they were easily encouraged to do crazier stunts,
especially when I brought the camera or go pro out.
The longer I stayed in Kupang the more I was enjoying it,
the city seemed to come to life at night with people and vehicles filling the
streets, busy night markets offering freshly cooked street food, neon
everywhere and of course the local minibuses decorated in bright colours, loudly
playing bass thumping music. I asked Umbu about a guy that rode through a red
light and he replied with “Ray, its Sunday man, the police don’t book you on
Sunday, that’s why nobody is wearing a helmet”. This was like music to my ears,
for the rest of the day the helmet was left at home and I was cruising around
in just shorts, thongs and singlet, I passed the local police headquarters and
zoomed by an officer on his motorbike, the only response I received was a
friendly wave, I was loving it. I’d end up at Umbu’s place at some point every
afternoon to chat with his family and friends, on my final evening in Kupang I
was even invited to a large family gathering for a visiting relative from the Philippines.
I was in a house full of people and only 2 of them could speak English, it
didn’t matter though, there was plenty of laughing and I was fed until I
couldn’t eat anymore. I spent much of the night chatting to Umbu’s Aunt Teresa
in very broken English, this seemed to entertain most of the people at the
party with many of them laughing until tears streamed down there cheeks at her
attempts at conversation in English. To my surprise Umbu’s mother gave me a
locally made scarf as a gift when I left that evening, there were plenty of
warm goodbyes and of course a few photos taken on the Beemer.
I left for the ferry terminal the next morning to leave
for Larantuka on the island of Flores. Umba hung around for the 3 hour wait and
managed to get me a local price for my ferry ticket, he also translated all the
announcements that came over the loudspeaker, this made life much easier for me.
I was eventually directed on to the ferry and with only an hour delay to the
departure time I was on my way to Flores.
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