When I left Sydney in 2006 I think we were on level 6 water restrictions, which meant that basically cooking, toilet flushing, washing hands and bodies were the only things that were acceptable to use water for.

In Darwin, what with the Wet Season that dumps inordinate amounts of water on the Top End for at least 6 months of the year, the idea of water restrictions is just so laughable that I don’t think I ever heard the phrase bandied about even once in casual conversation. I don’t think Top Enders would actually comprehend the very idea of water restrictions or what it means.

But here we are again living with water restrictions, though these ones are of a very different kind. I forgot what a luxury it was to be able to use tap water for anything. Anyone who has travelled to a developing country knows that you don’t touch the water from the taps to the mouth region of your face ever under any circumstances full stop thankyouverymuch. Except in Singapore (although the water doesn’t actually taste that flash there so most people drink bottled water anyway!).

In Ukraine, we ordered those massive water cooler bottles of water through a company called Etalon. I used to hate the ordering process so much (as I had to use Russian… It’s so much easier to speak a foreign language face to face than it is over the phone) so I ordered about six bottles at a time which would last two weeks. Between two people.

Here we are now in Dili, four people including a baby whose food preparation I am still very particular about so our water needs are quite high. I’m yet to suss out if there is a delivery service available here. They certainly have the BIG bottles of water, but I can’t find any bottle-top pumps, only the actual water cooler machines which are over $100 a pop so still tossing up whether to get one.

In the meantime, we are sadly doing out bit for landfill, purchasing 600mL bottles for drinking water and 1500mL bottles for cooking. I do keep them separate when finished, in the hope that our cleaner knows of an unofficial bottle recycling racket and is selling them to a local dealer. Or something.

When it comes to washing up, the estate we live on has a bore and the tap water while probably not drinkable at least isn’t (too) smelly. It’s cool and clear and as the Mr says, probably is an underground river of water that has run down from the mountains. So I’m comfortable enough doing the washing up with this water* – that is, until I get amoebic dysentery – but I still rinse plates and utensils in bottled water unless I’m only putting dry ingredients on them. (I have the feeling that the rinsing with bottled water is kind of an OCD thing that doesn’t achieve much but hey. It puts me in my comfort zone).

When it comes to baths for the girls, the Sprog has been pepped talked enough to know that she isn’t to drink the water, and with Harrie – well, we just have to watch her like a hawk. And when it comes to brushing teeth – again, bottled water all the way baby.

I remember when we returned to Australia in 2009, it took weeks and weeks to feel comfortable with drinking the tap water. Now I’m so used to it that I have to train myself all over again. Who knows – I’ve probably drunk a couple of glasses of the tap stuff here and totally not even realised it, in my perpetually sleep deprived state (but that’s a whole other post).

*That is, letting the cleaner do the washing up with this water

I expected challenges when I moved to Dili – challenges with getting everyday life lived and done. Having been an expat before, I know that grocery shopping can be a problem. In Ukraine I had to visit two supermarkets to get the groceries that I wanted. A specialist store to get my cleaning and personal hygiene products. I ordered water over the phone and it would be delivered the following day. I bought phone credit from the guy on the corner who sat under the umbrella selling credit. And, where possible, I bought my fresh produce from the markets and street vendors. 

Sometimes shopping could be a whole day experience. 

Here, it’s much the same. The differences are: I need to visit more shops in order to procure my necessities. The shops are waaaaaayyy further apart. And I can’t just hoof it out of the house walking to and from the shops when I feel like it – in the absence of my having a car, it’s definitely a job for a taxi. 

Besides that, with the proliferation of expats in Dili, there is a wide range of foodstuffs available in the supermarkets. I’m sure that supply will fluctuate, but I can certainly find more things that I want than I could in Kyiv. 

One thing I can’t find is yoghurt. I have found a slightly sweetened soy yoghurt which I quite like, but nothing that the Sprog likes. And another thing that is here in fair abundance is cheese, but it’s ridiculously priced ($20 per kilo for cheddar?!). Funnily enough I found some parmigiana reggiana for $26 per kilo so bought a generous chunk of that. 

And the final quirky observation: courtesy of the Portuguese history in Timor and the presence of the Portuguese police/army here for the past decade, there is a Portuguese supermarket in town that sells a nice array of european products and many of them reasonably priced. I bought 500mL of extra virgin olive oil (since WHEN did it become commonly known as EVOO? I refuse to use the acronym) for $4.90, which is cheaper than home brand prices in Australia, and corn fed chicken breast for $8.50 per kilo. 

It’s taken a week and a lot of shop visits (my poor taxi driver), but I’ve finally started to get my head around where to get all my groceries from. Now to find the time to visit all the shops!

*All prices quoted are USD, which is the official currency of Timor-Leste