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Every budget traveler, from every geographical location, has a local bus horror story to share. Sometimes several.  We’ve all done our time.  The stories are so ubiquitous that no one wants to hear them anymore.  I’ve personally sat on boxes of onions for 10 hours (Laos), watched kids poop in the aisle between the seats (China), and even did my best to stifle a laugh as someone’s expensive pet bird broke out on a long ride and flew around the bus causing a panic (Thailand).

So, it didn’t surprise me when my 12 hour minibus from East Timor back to Kupang in Indonesia was about as much fun as getting your teeth filed to points.  The $20 bus ticket had a seat number, but sure enough we stopped only 30 minutes into the bumpy ride to pick up a man who had the same seat number as me – which means of course that we got to share one bucket seat for the duration.
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My biggest fear was that East Timor would be an extension of Indonesia under a different name and flag.

It didn’t take long for that theory to be smashed on the dirty street when I walked out of the barbed wire around my hostel one morning and a UN helicopter was taking off across the street.

I raised my arms up to soak in the blast of warm air from the rotors and exhaust.  About then, a troop carrier rumbled down the street with white guys in full battle rattle, machine guns included, just returning from a training mission.

This definitely isn’t Indonesia.

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