Vehicles and traffic

Traffic here in Dili is steady. On the roads I use, I can usually see a few vehicles at a time. Sometimes, when a driver wants to turn across traffic, as many as 10 cars might get back up.  Downtown, where two roads converge near the president’s palace, there might 20 cars in view.


The vehicles themselves fall into five broad categories -- motorbikes & scooters; SUV; trucks (pick-up and dump); minivans (microlits); and taxis.


Motorbikes are the most abundant. The driver always wears a helmet. When the entire family rides, the children don't wear helmets, and preschoolers usually stand between the driver and the handlebars. I remember seeing only one child in a helmet.


Motorbikes don't tend to use their mirrors, and wriggle their way forward when traffic is stopped.


SUVs come in all makes, though Toyota and Nissan are most prevalent. Hyundai and Kia are rare here, as is Ford.  They tend to be less than five years old, and they have tinted windows to help with the bright equatorial sun.


Government vehicles (Kareta Estada) are mostly silver crew cab Toyota Hi-Luxes. Some government vehicles are SUVs. Many were initially acquired by the United Nations, while it held interim government status. So they are newer than my car at home. When we went to Tutuala last weekend, we rented a crew cab Toyota Hi-Lux.


On Dili roads, SUVs are about as necessary as SUVs are on Victoria roads. But venture out of the capital, and the need becomes obvious.


There are a lot of big yellow trucks. They're not quite as big as a dump truck, and they are the primary mode of industrial transport. I see them either with just a driver, or with a crew of men in the back.


Microlets are minivans with benches installed along the sidewalks. They tend to be narrower than North American vans, and my head grazed the ceiling go of the one I was in yesterday. I haven't figured out the routes yet, other than a number nine goes along the waterfront and a 10 goes past my work and along the main drag to downtown.


And then there are the taxis. My first few days, I was convinced that all taxis have a standard transmission, and the drivers do no know how to change gears or use their mirrors. They prowl painfully slowly, honking when they want to get your attention.


Timorese horns aren't like their raw angry North American counterparts. They’re muted, like a trumpet with a mute in it.  It's a friendly sound, and a frequent one. If you're passing someone, you toot your horn. If you're coming to a curve in the road, you toot your horn. If you're lonely, you toot your horn.


In one of the first four taxis that I rode in, the interior door handle did not work. Taxis must have come here from away, because they tend to be older cars in less than stellar repair.


There are a few traffic circles in Dili, and a few traffic lights. The pedestrian crossing light tickles my fancy, since it's a green man running, or rather an animation of a man, coloured green, running. Cars respect the rules of lights and roundabouts. They aren't generous with pedestrian crossings.


Even so, I feel very safe walking here. I'm not sure I'd feel as safe driving.


Children ride bicycles; I've only seen a handful of adults on bikes and I have yet to see an adult bike for sale. I haven't looked hard -- this heat has put a damper on my interest in exertion. I'm content to keep walking for now.