I never really gelled with the expat scene in Phuket. In Bangkok it was different because in a city that big you’re bound to meet so many people that at least a few of them are worth sticking to. Since I arrived in Dili I’ve seen a completely different type of expat scene. The foreigners living in Dili are, for the most part, passionate about whatever field they work in, be it tourism, aid, peacekeeping, journalism. More so than that, there’s a sense that many of these people are dedicated to Timor-Leste.

From one day to the next in Thailand people just moaned about the state of the place. It’s not that people shouldn’t be able to criticize the country in which they live, but here in Timor-Leste the expats see an overwhelming positive side, despite everything that has happened and could still happen. I haven’t been able to pinpoint why this positive mindset exists, but I imagine it stems from foreigners living here and working in jobs they’ve devoted at least part of their lives to.

The nightlife scene in Dili is interesting. There are more bars and clubs than I thought there would be. Almost all are aimed at foreigners, but I get the impression that the people running these nightspots to support themselves do a lot of work in the community.

About a week ago a bunch of us ended up at a Mexican party. It was surreal: a Mexican party in the middle of Dili. There were hundreds of people there and I heard “Macarena” twice. I didn’t really dig the party because I’m kind of anti-social in large groups of strangers.

My friend and I snuck out of the party around midnight and walked back home. We passed a little shack where half a dozen local ruffians were playing pool. What the heck, we thought, and we rolled up to the shack to say hi.

We put up a buck-fifty and played a game of two-on-two pool that involved shooting the balls in ascending order while one guy turned over playing cards. I never found out what the playing cards were for, but through sheer drunken luck we won the game and got back our buck-fifty and, I think, the stake of our opponents.

Although my end of the conversation was limited, hanging out with those bare-chested kids, who looked to be in their early-twenties, was a better deal than being at the party. This all happened on the road where just a few nights before an old, haggard man had stalked me down the street.

More than anything I’m enjoying being a part of the local community here. As tough and wary as the locals look on the outside, they are good, warm people and I feel humbled to live among them.

Note: For some strange reason I posted a draft of an unfinished blog post (this post) and gave it the headline and picture of the post I was trying to publish, which is actually about tipping.