If you Google search “Timor-Leste tourism”, what you’ll end up finding is likely nothing more than development reports, travel advisories, and maybe the odd article like this one from the Guardian about someone’s experience there on a humanitarian mission.
It’s not a country that get’s a lot of tourist traffic. Most of the visitors there are working or volunteering in some aspect of development. When you land on the ground as a foreigner, and you aren’t there as some part of a faith-based organization building schools or the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP), “what are you doing here?” is a question you’ll receive from customs officials, locals, and expats, should you run into them.
I visited Timor-Leste for a month in March 2020. This is my account of what it’s like to live in Asia’s newest country.
A Brief Background
I’m not going to run through the entire history of the nation – search engines can find you more in-depth information if you like. To understand this country though, there are some things that you need to know.
First is its geographic location. “Where in the hell is Timor-Leste?”. Or another common question I get asked when mentioning this place in conversation is, “What country is that in again?”.
Timor-Leste (or East Timor) is its own country in the southeast part of Southeast Asia. It finds itself mixed into the Indonesian archipelago. If you look at the Indonesian islands as a clock that’s been flattened and now has more of an oval shape, it’d be in about the 5 o’clock position – about halfway in between Java and Papua. Timor is an island, the west half is part of Indonesia, and the east half is, well, East Timor. Directly south is Australia.
Stay safe while on the road. Here are my 21 travel safety basics.
My very brief history of Timor-Leste goes like this. It was inhabited by indigenous populations before being colonised by the Portuguese in the 1700s (Leste means “east” in Portuguese). The Portuguese ruled until 1975. The Portuguese Revolution in 1974 started an exodus of Portugal from many of their colonial establishments during the time, and Timor-Leste was one of them.
When Portugal left, Timor-Leste claimed independence that lasted just over a week before Indonesia moved in and claimed it as its own. Indonesian occupation lasted until 1999. The Indonesian occupation was extremely bloody. The Timorese did not want to be part of Indonesia, but Indonesia was forcing them to join. Mass slaughter of the Timorese ensued. What happened in these years is recognized as genocide.
It’s unknown exactly how many Timorese were killed, but the UN reports that the minimum number of deaths from the Indonesian occupation is 102,800 (direct killings and indirect deaths resulting from famine, disease, or other causes that would not have occurred if not for the Indonesian occupation). The real number is likely somewhere between that and 200,000. All of this is in a country whose population was reported at 688,000 in 1975.
The Timorese resistance, despite the casualties, and aided by an Indonesian presidential change in 1998, eventually resulted in a referendum in 1999 where Timor-Leste voted for independence.
Upon this vote, the UN stepped in and governed the country for a few years, before handing Timor-Leste its long-awaited autonomy in 2002.
This was not as brief as I had intended but knowing the rough history of the country is essential to understanding what things are like there – as well as recognizing that this history is very recent. Most Timorese lived through some, if not all of the Indonesian occupation and the preceding Portuguese colonial era. If you take time to talk to people, you will eventually hear first-hand accounts of what it was like during “Indonesia times”.
Touching Down in Timor-Leste
Entry Process
I think like most visitors to the country, my entry point was a flight into its lone international airport. I landed in Dili on a flight from Bali, Indonesia. At the time I visited (March 2020), visas were given on arrival. Passport holders of EU countries are allowed visa-free entry for up to 90 days. As a Canadian I had to pay what I remember to be $30 USD, and they gave me a visa that was valid for 30 days. Although not entirely helpful, here’s a link to the Timor-Leste immigration website where you can find visa information.
Upon arrival I was taken into a room for extra questioning on what I was doing there. It’s not exactly normal for people to show up unannounced to Timor-Leste with just a backpack. This was where it was determined I would get 30 days on my visa, although I think if I had told them that I had plans to visit the country for 2-3 months, they could’ve easily written 90 instead of 30 on my visa.
It was in this room that they also made sure I had cash in US Dollars, as well as a working Visa card (the credit card company, not the travel document). The reason being is that Timor-Leste uses the US Dollar as their currency, and that Visa is the only accepted international card. Mastercard does not work in Timor-Leste.
You’ll be hard-pressed to find shops that actually accept Visa in this country outside of central Dili, but it will be your only method of withdrawing cash from an ATM. If you have plans to venture beyond Dili, I’d recommend making sure you have enough cash to last you until you return. You can probably find cash points in some of the larger villages, but I wouldn’t rely on it.
Once my responses satisfied the customs officials, I was free to be on my way.
Life in Dili
Walking out of the airport, your transportation options to your lodging are pretty much limited to a taxi. Taxi rides from the airport are a standard $10 flat rate to anywhere in the city.
Accommodation
I was staying at DaTerra Hostel, where I paid about $15-20 for a bed in a shared room. It’s a very simple accommodation, but sufficient and really the only budget option I came across. This was the only open hostel that I knew about in my time there. This hostel would later be my safe haven while trying to organize my flights back home while pandemic border restrictions were being imposed about a month later. The owners were fabulous to me during this time, only staying open for myself and another guest, both of us trying to get home. This was quite an ordeal and warrants its own article. I’ll link it here once I’ve written about it.
There are places to stay that afford more modern luxuries in Dili. There are many international organizations coming and going from Dili and they all need a place to stay. Workers with the UN, World Bank, International Monetary Fund, and other large NGOs will usually be put up in one of these hotels.
Walking around the streets of Dili for the first time was a bizarre experience. I knew about the history of the country and how they’d suffered, and the loads of humanitarian development work being done in the country, so I didn’t really know what to expect. I guess my expectations were that I was more or less walking into a poor, sad place.
But that wasn’t the case. I wouldn’t call Dili a bustling capital city, but everything seemed pretty normal. The people of Timor-Leste are very humble and compassionate. These were some of the friendliest and welcoming people that I’ve met. Many of them were eager to practice their English with me, as I was eager to learn some Tetum from them.
Language
A quick side note here about the language in Timor-Leste. They have two official languages: Tetum and Portuguese. Tetum is the most widely spoken language. It’s an indigenous language that has become the most popular form of communication in the country. Different regions of Timor-Leste have their own dialects that are unique to that part of the country, so most Timorese will speak their regional dialect as well as Tetum.
Portuguese is the other official language but is not so common on the streets. It’s mostly reserved for official documents and government buildings. A lot of youth will grow up not knowing Portuguese. The older generation of Timorese, the people that lived under Portuguese rule, these are the Timorese that can speak Portuguese.
Also, with its proximity to and occupation by Indonesia, most Timorese can speak Bahasa Indonesia. Add to the fact that most children are learning some English in schools nowadays, and it’s not uncommon to meet a teenager in Timor-Leste that can speak four or more languages. It’s really quite amazing.
But back to walking the streets.
I had spent the previous two months in Indonesia and picked up enough of the language to get by and make simple conversation. This was very helpful in Timor-Leste, though I made an effort to learn the basics of Tetum as well, which have all but left my brain at this point.
My first impression was that the people are very happy and friendly, slightly unexpected. But now it’s time to grab a bite to eat – what’s the food like?
Food
As far as the culinary powerhouses go in Southeast Asia (Thailand, Vietnam, Indonesia), I couldn’t put Timor-Leste into that group. I’m not saying the food was bad, not at all, but it’s not in that category of world-renowned flavour. The food is very fresh in Timor-Leste, but it’s also very simple.
A culture that is rooted in subsistence farming, most Timorese grow the food they eat. Dili is a bit of an exception in that it’s a bigger city and people go to the markets to buy food, but a typical meal is usually heavy in rice and vegetables. Fish is also a regular option for coastal villages, but meat is not always available – it depends on when their chickens, cows, or pigs are mature enough for slaughter.
My favourite part of the Timorese diet is the variety of fresh fruit. Most of the fruits there I have either forgotten the name, never knew it, or can only identify it by a picture. But this is where I enjoyed some of the juiciest, most succulent fruit I’ve ever had. I especially miss the green one with lumps on the outside and dozens of hard black seeds inside – the fruity meat surrounding those seeds is sublime.
The street food in Dili is good, not great, but affordable. Depending what street vendor you choose you’re not paying much more than $2 for a full meal.
Transportation
The easiest way to get around Dili is probably by taxi. A trip anywhere within the city shouldn’t cost you more than $3. But like anywhere, agree on a price before you get into the cab. The taxis in Dili are a bit interesting. They look like New York City cabs from the 1950s, that have been in operation since the 1950s. I wouldn’t want to go cross country in one of these, but they suffice for short trips around town or to the Cristo Rei monument. I had to ride with my head out the window once because the car was too small for my body. It’s also impressive that the drivers can see anything out their windshields – over half of it is covered with a dark coating to block the sunlight.
Another option for getting around Dili are microlets. This is their public transport system. It’s a network of vans that run different routes around the city. Each van is plastered with a number, signalling which route it is running. I can’t be certain, but I think the fare for these is about 25 cents. You can ask around to find out which microlet will get you where you want to go, people are very helpful. To signal that you want to get off the bus, you just tap your 25 centavos on the metal handrail in the bus. When the driver hears this sound, he’ll pull over.
(Side note: they use American currency for bills, but centavos for coins – same idea though.)
Public transportation between towns/villages is also available. I’ll have to dedicate a separate article to explain how this works, tips to consider, and my experiences with inter-city busses in Timor-Leste. To make a long story short, I saw some of the most beautiful landscape, never realized how many people you can fit on a bus, and have never been more uneasy crossing sketchy roads, bridges, and cliffs than on my way from Baucau to Baguia, and back. You can always hire a personal driver and car as well – less exciting though.
I ended up going to Baguia to do a “Workaway”, where I was teaching English in a school during the day and tutoring students in the evening. I didn’t get paid, but in exchange for my time I was given a place to stay, and all my meals were provided for me. I lived alongside a wonderful family who looked after me, fed me, and housed me.
To this point I’ve covered the essentials: entry, accommodation, language, food, and transportation. I think a quick note on safety in the country is warranted.
Safety
As far as my own experience, spending one month in this country I can say that I never felt unsafe. I was told to avoid walking around Dili at night by a few people, including some friendly locals that I’d met while walking around town, so I did that. Dili is not really known for its nightlife anyhow. I only went out once to a trivia night at a pub catered to expats. Sometimes at night you could hear a lot of activity – some yelling and horsing around, but nothing that ever made me feel threatened.
During daylight hours I felt completely safe. There are a lot of stray dogs in Timor-Leste, but they were all bark, no bite. Outside of Dili, in the smaller towns/villages I think there’s nothing to worry about. I wouldn’t advertise walking around at night, causing a scene, but you shouldn’t feel scared. The people are very friendly.
This is the perspective from a solo male traveller. I did meet a solo female traveller who was perhaps more adventurous than I, and she never ran into any safety issues in Timor-Leste either. But of course, anytime you’re in a foreign country exercise a bit of added caution and keep your wits about you.
Miscellaneous
On the whole, Timor-Leste is very raw, and I loved it. The landscape is astonishing. It’s amazingly green, the coastline is pristine, and the land is mostly undeveloped. In terms of nature and natural beauty, it’s probably the purest country I’ve visited. The people have an infectious attitude, and their humility is commendable.
The economy as well is mostly untouched by commercialization. There’s a Burger King in Dili, but outside of that most shops and stores are local to Timor-Leste. It’s a very young country and globalisation has mostly left it alone so far. Mastercard hasn’t even made its way there yet.
Cell phone coverage isn’t all that horrible. It’s not the best but while you’re in towns/villages you’re sure to have some reception and data to access the internet.
In my month in Timor-Leste I never once saw wifi. I’ve heard that they have wifi at the main library in Dili, but that’s pretty much the only place I think you can find it. As is the case with a lot of things, wifi has not really made its way to Timor-Leste. Perhaps one or two of the nicer hotels have wifi as well, but I can’t be sure.
Limited internet access leaves you more time to explore the amazing landscape or to sit down and grab a beer. The one locally brewed beer they have is Liurai, clocking in at an impressive 7.8% alcohol content. They import other beers and alcohols, but for whatever reason most of their beer options have extreme alcohol content. I like beer but an 18% beer is a lot too much for my liking. It’s so odd. Most of the beer options they import are in the 10+% range. I like to drink what’s local anyways, so I’ll stick with their “light” option at 7.8% Liurai.
Timor-Leste isn’t a very heavy drinking country. From what I saw the Timorese are a very active people. You will always see people running along the beach, doing workouts, or sets of stairs while en route to the Cristo Rei monument.
If you have nice accommodation in Dili this won’t be an issue, but if you venture out into the countryside which I highly recommend, you will inevitably come across some toilets that you may not be used to. Yes, the squat pan and a bucket of water. If you’re unfamiliar with it, it’ll take some getting used to but give it a chance and you’ll probably find that your left hand is the most efficient toilet paper you’ve ever used.
One last thing to note is that malaria and other mosquito-transmitted diseases are present. I never took malaria pills, not really a fan of them, and luckily I was fine – as were most people I met. One of the German friends I had met at the hostel though ended up getting Dengue fever, and was very, very sick. We took care of him as best we could and he made a full recovery, but was very uncomfortable and ill for more than a week.
Final Thoughts
What I remember most about Timor-Leste and its people is how happy and kind they were. Technically speaking, much of the country is impoverished. Over 40% of their population live under the global poverty line. I wasn’t there long enough to fully experience this, but from what I saw nobody really lets this affect them. Like I said, these are some of the happiest, friendliest people I’ve met.
Having studied poverty extensively throughout my university degree, there was something I learned here that books and case studies didn’t teach me. Living in poverty doesn’t mean just one thing. There’s much more to impoverished people than just their lack of finances – and everyone’s circumstances are different. Poverty may describe one’s financial situation, but it doesn’t describe the individual, the community, or the country.
Many of the children I taught walked hours to and from school every day and when they got home they would have to help gather firewood or water from the river. After household chores were done they’d wash up and finish their homework. The Timorese are an incredibly modest, and hard-working people. They don’t complain either. They’ve been through enough to be extremely grateful for what they have. It’s a humbling experience.
It’s the little country that could. I loved Timor-Leste and can’t wait to go back.
Leave a reply