It’s 4.45am when my phone alarm chimes. Rubbing my eyes, I get dressed and groggily clamber into a waiting Toyota Troop Carrier. We bump downhill towards the cemetery where Anas Madeira’s father, Salvador, is buried and light a candle so his spirit will guide us through the nearby mountains.
Madeira is the leader of Intrepid Travel’s nine-day Timor-Leste Expedition, which is why I’m here. I signed up to visit one of the world’s newest countries out of unabashed curiosity, joining the small-group trip as a solo traveller.
Before visiting, I’d known only snippets of its history: Indonesia invaded in December 1975, kicking off more than two decades of massacres, guerrilla warfare and fierce resistance. Australian troops were deployed to Dili in 1999 after a vote in favour of independence sparked a fresh wave of violence, and peacekeeping efforts continued for years after Timor-Leste became a sovereign nation in 2002.
Fast-forward to now and the tourism industry is just starting to take off – which, to me, is fascinating.
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Image caption: Kirrily Schwarz watching the sunrise before a cultural ceremony at Hatu Bulico.
Booking a trip as a solo traveller can be intimidating, but when the timing is right, the timing is right. I signed up amid a period of significant change, having left a steady job to build my own business. After spending the first few years chained to a desk, working monstrous hours while enjoying none of the freedoms I had imagined when departing corporate life, I joined this trip as a circuit breaker: I wanted to step into a different world and gain a fresh perspective instead of continuing to hustle in hermitude.
Some pre-booking research told me I would find incredible biodiversity, from pristine beaches and coral gardens to leafy plantations and mountainous landscapes. I knew history would be a key part of the experience, as would local enterprises, but I failed to consider the human connections I would make.
Madeira pours his heart and soul into making sure we have the best possible experience.
He shares more as the trip unfolds: what it was like growing up in a war zone, how it affected the Timorese community and why he believes tourism is the key to his country’s prosperity. His candour is endearing, and at times, heartbreaking, putting a relatable face on stories of unimaginable horrors.
“I tell my story because I want people to learn,” he says. “You can never forget where you came from.”
Tragically, Madeira’s father Salvador didn’t live to see Timor-Leste become free. But as we get back into the Troopies, I wonder what he might think about all the progress.
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Image caption: Preparing to depart Dili on the nine-day Timor-Leste Expedition.
The landscape around the cemetery is unspeakably beautiful, especially as the pre-dawn light rinses it in blue, purple and pink. Our four-wheel drives crawl up another unpaved road towards our next stop, Rabilau, where we’ve been invited to attend a cultural ceremony.
We receive a blessing, a mark made in dust on our throats, before proceeding towards a sacred site. Here, traditional animism blends with colonial Catholicism: a cross stands next to an altar on which animals are still sacrificed on special occasions, such as weddings. Our group maintains a comfortable silence as the light changes to gold and we gaze on a tiny village waking up in the valley below.
Elders in traditional dress give offerings of rice wine, betel nuts and cigarettes, before the drumming, chanting and dancing begin. An older lady grabs my hand and starts leading me through the steps, nodding her approval as I eventually catch on. It feels extraordinary to be welcomed so warmly into a community foreign to my own, and to share this kind of connection with someone whose path I would have never otherwise crossed, especially if I had tried to plan this kind of trip by myself.
Later, we meet Wilson Nivio Mendonca, the village chief in Maubisse, who prepares us some of the region’s specialty coffee, which is now one of Timor-Leste’s biggest exports. While he’s grinding the beans, he tells us he’s particularly excited about developing mountain biking trails in the nearby hills.
His enthusiasm, like Madeira’s, is infectious, and as we’re chatting, my mind drifts to my business. I realise I’m looking for equally out-of-the-box solutions. Suddenly, I’m excited about the possibilities again.
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Image caption: Anas Madeira (left) with Wilson Nivio Mendonca (right).
I booked this tour needing a circuit breaker, but it was far more than just a holiday. For one thing, it’s incredibly moving to hear from local people who waited so long to see Timor-Leste achieve peace. For another, I came to understand that travelling solo does not mean travelling alone; as the group bonded, I realised I was shaking off years of loneliness.
But my biggest takeaway was the impact a single person can make. Madeira is someone I’ll simply never forget – and his passion for his home has made me just as excited to return to mine. Like him, I can’t wait to see what life will bring along next.
