the paradise of flying stones

Here we are in this paradisiac little half on an island where you can get sweet pinapples out of plants lying in your gardens and where you can see fresh lobsters hanging from trees or where you can spend the whole weekend lying on white sand beaches reading and sipping fresh lime juice... but where you cannot go home on a monday night after work because people are throwing stones in the centre of the city to fight eachother for some unknown reasons, a country where people have been living in IDP camps in tents or in the garden of some relatives for at least one year, a country where every day you meet at least one new child with a big belly and skiny legs because what they eat is not quite right and they don't see the doctors... Obvious things that you can read everywhere? yes, quite probably, and probably not even that bad compared to other places... but well this is what is going on tonight, on a normal Timor day.

the small sweet surprise that can change your day

Since I first came on this side of the emisphere I starte realising how much someone can feel far from home. I'm not there, it takes at least 3 days to go back home or to reach anyone who is anywhere in the nice old continent, there are 7 hours of difference in the time so that if you wake up and you want to write something to your best friend, if you are lucky enough to have a phone, you will still have to wait at least 7 hours before you can here their voice... And then, on the other side there is technology... This is why for the first time in my life I ended up opening a blog, why I love so much writing or receiving emails from friends, why I started to appreciate so much this white square full of small, minuscule lamps in front of me... But despite this evolution, today I had once again this small thing that became big, huge to me and called me down to reality, to a good side of reality. Receiving normal mail -the one written on paper and with seals on top- in this side of the world takes almost one month of travelling from Europe, probably not through romantic caravanserragli, horses, big sailing boats or steam trains, but still a long time, that once again reminds you of how far away you are. This is why when today I received a white envelope, quite thick and written with a handwriting that I know (this is the other nice difference with emails, you don't see the name, you recognise the hand of the person who wrote), I got so incredibly happy and excited. So, thanks you so much Cile, it was really a beautiful present!

When the boss is leaving

I remember when I was a child and I used to take swimming classes and I was really scared of one particular teacher... she used to make us swim a lot and shout if we were not quick enough... Then school came and during school or uni we all met someone who made us stop breathing or almost praying so that an hour could pass quickly without having too many problems. Who didn't have one of those professors that are just nasty and make you feel you don't want to be there when they enter the class, or you want to disappear in a puff when they alk to you? Well, apparently these things happen also in working life, nothing changes, if you are lucky maybe this scary person is not your boss, and you only starting feeling this empiness in your stomach when the big boss goes on holiday... but it's anthropologically very funny how even adult professionals end up sweating and thinking of options like pretending to be sick in order to avoid a day of torture in the office.... after all maybe we don't change that much when we grow up.

at least a short beginning

I wanted to write big philosophical reflections, but it's not working, so I decided to let you know I'm opening this blog despite for the moment there won't be much more than pictures, but at least I will start having you see (again) a bit of what is life here and hopefully someone will get so intrigued that will come here at least for a visit! It would acutally be so nice...
Well, we start then! and I hope to see you popping around every now and again!
The picture on the side was taken during a weekend when we managed to escape from teh capital and get out of the hot and chaotic life of this small city where we spend most of our time... So welcome to Baucau, 3 hours east of Dili, on the Northern coast of the country... and I introduce you to some exemplars of anglosaxon aid workers...plus me obviously!

un bacio, vale