A Visit to Venilale

So, this past Thursday through to Sunday Bek and I stayed with a PCV couple in Venilale. It's about 3 hours East then 1 hour South. We enjoyed every minute of it.

We actually went with another couple and stayed in the extra rooms of the volunteers' house. We thought Balibar was beautiful, with it's mountain view, but it paled in comparison. The mountains from Balibar are dry, the trees spread out. But the trees a green and everywhere in Venilale and you look out over fields of natar, rice, terraced on the hillsides.

I've actually been so inspired by the country and the current volunteers that I've started writing about it. Training is rough, with its long hours of sitting and listening, so long it's hard to sit straight anymore and I find myself standing up and standing in the back just to keep sane. And with all the traveling we've been doing, well, you know how hard traveling can be.

Speaking of traveling, here's a good story. A PC vehicle drove us out to the site but we had to find our own way back. Luckily, the couple was heading into Dili, too, so we just did what they did.

They had actually never caught a bus to Dili on a Sunday, so they didn't know exactly when the bus came, which didn't really matter because all the busses run on the same schedule: leave when the bus is full. So, we waited for about 3 hours on the side of the road for a bus. As we waited, some of the party read books, I actually made a mancala board in the dirt and we played with rocks, and we talked to the locals walking to and from church.

Finally, we decided to take a dump truck to Baucau. Yes. Perfectly normal here, but a first for us. As we came upon Baucau the volunteers told us to hold onto our bags because the locals would try to take our bags to their own bus to get us to ride. So, when we got down from the dump truck, holding our bags tight, we were swarmed with people. They wanted us to choose their bus, but we had to see if their was enough room first for all of us. Bekah started to worry when one of the volunteers was completely surrounded and the other was gone. But within a minute we were all back together and getting on a nice little bus with a motorcycle being hoisted onto the back and tied up tight.

Imagine the bus on The Great Muppet Caper. That was this bus, and all busses in Timor: chickens and pigs and guitars and loud music and, best of all, people hanging out of the doors.

In other news, before I sign off, Bek and I went with a language teacher to buy a guitar. He took us to a busy street lined with electronics and just about anything you could want. We went into a few stores and they would have 2 or 3 cheap guitars with a sticker that said Yamaha in it. I actually almost bought one because it was so cheap but Bek said we should wait. Another of the teachers plays guitar but he's not here today. We'll get him to take us next time.

So, until next time, take care, y'all.