The Golden Hour (s)

This time of year in Timor-Leste is something so magical no picture would do it justice - it is a sensation and a feeling more than any image. The air is warm and fresh but crisp. The rain has stopped so there is a dusting of dirt on the ground in the morning, but it is charming really, and isn't suffocating as it gets to be in November and December. My favorite time of day outside is approaching 5:30 to six in the evening. Sometimes it starts a bit earlier, I can walk down the back steps of the office to the outside meeting space and feel the warmth, see a soft sparkling light through the trees. Sparkling is as close as I can come to describe it - it feels on your skin how it feels when I sigh. When you breathe out and everything seems intense and true, but in an entirely relaxing way.

Yesterday my after-work run was particularly stunning. Niny and I took off from our usual spot at Caz Bar - about 10 minutes drive from work. The tide was high so as you round one of the last turns after the mangroves. There is a sharp sparkle off the water, split gently here and there by children's naked silhouettes and splashes. The light is so warm that it is almost hard to take off on the run as part of me wants to sit on the log and stare out at the water lapping ever so delicately against the shore (there aren't really any big waves along these beaches). 'Lapping' must be an onomatopoeia originally as it sounds exactly like what it is on these shores (the Timorese call the north shore the tasi feto - the woman sea - since it is gentle with no waves versus the south sea which boasts angry surfing waves).

The run is glorious - reaching the pinnacle of the huge Cristo Rei statue at the top of the hill is one of the best rewards. The wind whips around you more furiously at the top of the hill - I look over the edge every day hoping to see a glimpse of the manta ray breeching and flipping out of the water, his white underside peeking up as us from the dark blue green. We only saw him once, now more than two years ago, but I still look over, just in case, every day. Again, like that comfort in my sigh, I am reinvigorated for the rest of the run. It ends as I almost trip over the small pig in the road. Not surprisingly, I can't keep my eyes off the layers of purples, pinks and oranges pillow-like layers between the clouds above the water.

Kate (as if you thought this was Lendell!)