In the Timor Sea, a wave continuously crests above a hidden reef and slowly curves and breaks along its whole length, before subsiding into the still, azure waters along the shoreline skirted by Dili's Avenida Sada Bandeira. It's the sort of wave that surfers love, and a small example of the tourist potential of this beautiful half-island.
East Timor's little capital has a unique allure, especially along the seafront where old Portuguese buildings with thick walls and heavy wooden shutters stand unaltered since colonial times. Along the beach road, and in the hills above town, there are villas with stunning views, which might one day compete in the property supplement of a Dili newspaper, with the price quoted in Xanas, the suggested new currency of a free East Timor.
Anything is possible when the present terrible bloodshed is ended - as it must be and quickly by the international community - and East Timor's articulate leaders can begin to build up an economy on the ruins of colonial exploitation and occupation.
They are starting almost from ground zero. People returning to East Timor for the first time since the 1975 invasion are stunned at how little has changed, and shocked at how much has deteriorated. I was told that the Portuguese maintained some efficiency in their neglected outpost, but now goats and pigs forage around the governor's mansion and the taxis that rattle along the streets have long since lost their springs and upholstery.
While tourism holds some promise - and a casino is a possibility according to Mario Carrascalao, the Indonesian-appointed governor from 1982 to 1992 - it requires a complete overhaul of the town's infrastructure, and careful management to avoid developing a sex-tourism culture like that of Kupang in West Timor.
There is even greater potential beneath the offshore waves, where there are proven oil and gas reserves. Under the Timor Gap Treaty, the 20,000 barrels of oil extracted every day from the depths are split between Australia and Indonesia, but both say they might renegotiate the treaty with an independent East Timor, for whom a small percentage of oil revenue would make a big difference. East Timor also has significant mineral reserves of marble, gold, manganese and other minerals that have not been exploited because of political instability.
The Indonesians extended the network of paved highways from 20 to 428 kilometres since the Portuguese left, mainly to ensure the free movement of military vehicles, but the roads have fallen into disrepair, especially in the steep mountains where some gaping holes lead only to oblivion.
Indonesia also provided the territory with four main electricity generators (which a furious army may take when it goes, switching out the lights so to speak). But even so, only one in four houses has electric light. Two in three of the 800,000 inhabitants are illiterate, and there are a mere 1,000 East Timorese university graduates, making education one of the most urgent tasks of a new government. Immigrant Indonesians who are now fleeing provided 80 per cent of East Timor's secondary school teachers and all but two of the handful of bank managers in the towns. Immigrants who came after 1975 from Sulawesi and Java were able to set up small shops and markets, edging out he locals who had no capital, know-how or political freedom to start businesses.
"The International Monetary Fund is expected to help East Timor make up the $100 million provided by Jakarta to the annual budget. The World Bank is also said to be ready to provide speedy assistance, co-ordinated with other donors and agencies. It will be up to countries like Portugal and Australia, which owe moral debts to East Timor, and to developed countries like Ireland which encouraged the drive for independence, to lead a restructuring effort, providing everything from technology and electricity to education and training. Help is also badly needed in agriculture. Arable land is limited, livestock have disappeared, and strategic hills have been deforested.
"But one plant, whose glossy dark green leaves and rust-coloured berries can be seen around every village, could make a big contribution to reviving East Timor's economy. This is the coffee tree, which in East Timor produces the high quality arabica bean. A single bush can produce enough coffee for one family and several plants mean a cash income. Indonesian military-backed companies seized the big coffee plantations established by the Portuguese, and to this day farmers risk having their crops seized by militiamen.
"We were driven from our village just before the coffee crop was ready, they wanted to take it themselves," a refugee called Renaldo told me in Liquica. Nevertheless about 17,000 poor farmers earn A$3,200 (£1,532) a year each from a coffee co-operative called CBI Indonesia, established in 1995 by the US National Co-operative Business Association and in peacetime production would likely soar.
Because of unrest, these farmers have not acquired modern pesticides to enhance production, making East Timor the largest producer of organic coffee in the world. "We have built a quality brand name for East Timor," said CBI Indonesia's president, Sam Filiaci, recently. "Hopefully this is something they can expand and build on."
Indeed if it all works, future visitors to Dili may find themselves sitting at a cafe table on the tranquil seafront, watching the surfers catch the waves out on the reef, while sipping the best coffee in the world. One day.