Right, must type quick, only 15 minutes until the clock ticks over to another hour in the internet cafe and the woman collects another fiver. Very expensive here, but never mind because me and Dot have been reunited.
Yes, after much misdirection and bullshit from the locals who work the docks and the customs desk finally Dot Cotton was found in the back of some container, lodged neatly behind a pallet of Pringles in a dusty container grave yard on the outskirts of Dili.
First time she started and I was over joyed. Whu? Because finally I knew she was safe, and also because it means I can finally get back on the road and free myself from this weird East Timorese parallel universe I’ve found myself in. Tonight the Aid Gods I’ve met, as I’ve nick-named the self-congratulating people who come here to help, are out trying to find a chinese brothel so they can cheat on their wifes and continue to make the most of this secluded corner of the world they’ve come to save. Yes I’ll be honest it’s all bullshit and the more you see of these people the more you realise the country would be better of with their wages but not their presence. But anyway, that’s a rant for another occassion because as far as I’m concenred East Timors a pretty decent place. There are no assualts, no murders or violent robbery. Occassional theft maybe, but nothing you’d not get in Nottingham on a night out. If all the other countries I go through are as safe as this once I’ll be alright.
Tomorrow I’m off to the next town – about 3 hours away – with Faustoe the crazy Italian and Noname the Singaporean guy who’s name we can never remember. Them on their scooter, me on Dot. Appareantly it’s gorgeous up in the hills so that’s the plan.
But for now it’s back to the hostel to eat more mangos and wait for the heroic sunrise so me and Dot can finally get back on the road.