a moveable feast

   

After the indulgences of Bali, I was happy to return to the raw vegan sensibility - fresh, ripe, organic fruit and vegies, sprouts, seeds and occasional nuts. Simple, grain free, unprocessed, with nil by mouth other than herbal tea after sunset (which is 5.45pm here at 11 degrees south). The exceptions to our raw diet are a small amount of tempeh (an Indonesian delicacy made by fermenting soya beans), steamed sweet potato and dry grilled eggplant. 

Aquaman strung together an impressive 25 days caffeine free, whereas I crumbled after nine - my longest stint totally caffeine free (with not even green tea) for at least ten years. I was shocked by the mental space hijacked with thoughts of coffee, the internal struggle to stay away from the bean and leaf, and the feelings of deprivation as I drank another rooibos. Giving up yoghurt and cheese was much easier. It was pathetic, annoying and I was napping like a wombat. Behold the power of a single shot.  Lord knows how I’d react to anything stronger, or if I had a three-cups-a-day habit. 

We are fortunate to have some foodie friends that aren’t afraid to have vegans at the table, and this week has been a culinary sensation of epic proportions.  Firstly, a lunch next door with our newest neighbours, a Moroccan/Israeli living in Bali and his Italian friend. Cue falafel with tahini dressing, the most hummus ever to be served on the island, mixed salads, toasted rye bread, grilled eggplant with chilli, and floods of olive oil.  All served beneath a shady coconut leaf cabana with a white sand floor. 

  

After 24 hours to recover from the surfeit of garlic, we attended the annual Lodge afternoon tea, with its much anticipated menu of Balinese black rice pudding with coconut milk and banana, hot donuts and tea. Yes I said donuts. As in “I want to wash myself with a sponge on a stick” kind of calories. It is my one deliberate fried food item of the year, and I ate it with as much mindfulness as I could muster among the animated conversation. 

We had a 48 hour sabbatical after the donuts and before the third invitation; a glorious raw meal with our friends Colin and Linda. Despite an unexpected break in power supply, Linda came through with her promise of banana and pistachio “semi-freddo”; the exclamation mark to a poetic stanza of ingredients.

Back in the days of no refrigeration and smoky pots of rice cooked over an open fire, I couldn’t imagine ever seeing a pinenut or mizuna leaf in this environment. A splash of balsamic vinegar at someone’s house was a luxury to be savored for weeks. Now we have rocket and fancy lettuce, miso, walnuts, dates and Lindt chocolate. They are all still carefully rationed, but I am grateful for their mere existence and the generosity of friends who share their supplies.

renovation stage 1

When we began building our house in 2005, the situation was very different to today. Materials were hard to get, skilled builders were rare, we were on a minuscule budget, and our land was held under a handshake lease.  Tom claims he wanted no more than a thatched squatter's hut, whereas I was hoping for something a little more, shall I say, concrete. Nothing fancy like running water or electricity. Just a roof high enough to stand under, a clean floor, and a wall to hide behind when washing out of a bucket.

Today we "own" our land (as far as possible in Indonesia) and feel safer to invest a little more, knowing we won't have to walk away in ten years.  The old toilet has already gone and been replaced by the glorious flushing number, and we have big visions for a full reno of the kitchen/living. 

Stage one began last month. A local friend was knocking it down for free, in return for keeping the bricks and rubble to build a new bathroom at his house (recycling at its best). The work was a bit tough and he only lasted two days. Tom borrowed an angle grinder and made two cuts to isolate the walls, then found a willing worker down the beach, who for an exorbitant price bashed away for the afternoon and brought the lot tumbling down. 

We are now left with a bomb site out the back; so close that we can't get the door fully open. The salvage process is underway, with a pile of bricks relocated at the front gate.  Given the island pace, we have agreed to give our friend fuel money to "borrow" his brother's car, and collect the rubble in one busy bee afternoon.  Hopefully some time before Christmas.

first wall down, one to go

flush and store: the new pavilion

Our humble shack has rocketed up the star rating with completion of the new pavilion. This tin clad beauty of Australian aesthetics features a undercover push button flush toilet with a door, a tap with running water into a sink, and a walk-in dust proof board room.  All tied down to a waterproofed slab with a proud fly roof. Going to the toilet is no longer a death risk.  The old toilet area is being removed and relocated to a local's house up the road. If he can dig it out, he can have it.  

Aquaman crafted the sink and bench from concrete, using our biggest stainless steel salad bowl as a form. The surface was polished by hand with diamond pads, then finished with  a layer of savon noir (an olive hull exract).  I made the light fittings from an enamel bowl and giant mug I found at the markets. The pavilion creates a courtyard between my studio and the garden, and the love seat has been moved and offers a private spot to catch morning sun and peruse the veggie patch, with ocean views beyond the bedroom. 

Inside the store room is a wall of labelled switches and knobs - the engine room of our power system - our old fridge serving as a tool box, various long handled implements, and a rack for the quiver.  

This my friends, is the final post for this season. We are currently under the boundless blue sky of a Western Australian summer, enjoying time in our other simple home. There is all day power and more expensive bananas, soy lattes and stone fruit, and neighbours that don't know our names. We will be back in Indonesia in March or April for season 2013. Thank you for sharing another season in the tropics, I look forward to welcoming you back on the ferry as soon as the trade winds kick in. 

Until then, you can follow our Australian capers at Treacle for Stickybeaks and find a great coffee at Crema and Crumbs.

happy new year 

family portraits

We've left our baby Sumba in the hands of local neighbours for the wet season, and do not like to entertain the idea that he may end up as Christmas lunch.  We made it very clear he was not to be eaten and their reply was "oh...but what if he just dies?" 

 I plaited him a collar which made him look like a real hippy kid, and left boxes of milk and his bottle with his babysitter. Like packing the first born off to boarding school.

An innocent little being, full of love and acceptance; thanks for the great times, sorry we had to leave you. 

island interior style

Alaia wooden surfboard shaped by Aquaman last summer : see the process here.

Busroll painted by me : I love original busrolls, and although they have become an overused design item, now printed on tea towels with your choice of destinations, the sheer irony that we could ever have a bus with an actual timetable was enough to paint one of my own. 

Sunburst mirror by me : driftwood on ply, made back here

A changing collection of beach love. Plate from Jengalla ceramics outlet, Bali. Antique doily from the op shop in Busselton.

Striped cushion cover made from a tea towel that I burnt a hole in, screenprinted with a teak leaf design and machine stitched. Grey paisley cover from Haveli Interiors, Bali.

Welcome sign found on the road side, tossed into the bush after a village dispute over boundaries.

Moka pot and coffee tin from Venice.

Ceramics from Dayana, Bali

Timber mozaic by me, made from canoe pieces.

Meditation seat beside a collection of beach finds.

Bolster cushion cover screen printed and quilted by me over a few art society afternoons.

Mosaics I made from broken tiles found on the beach, stuck onto driftwood.

Silver boxes (my favourite storage) from Bali.

Hand printed card by Saraswati Papers, Ubud, stuck onto driftwood. Small dish from Jengalla, Bali.

Ceramic butterfly from Erice, Sicily, beside a Balinese hand painted offering box. Painting in the background by Tom.  Kerosene lamp (for regular blackouts) from the local shop.

Assorted photos and cards on my studio peg board.

There is always a creative project on the go in our beach house. Almost all of the furniture and decoration is made by us, or local craftsmen, using found materials and native timber.  Any item brought in from Bali or Australia requires careful consideration to pass the "do I really want to lug this" test.  The closest shop stocking any kind of furniture is over an hour away and specialises in plastic everything, while the nearest Ikea is on the next continent. It is rewarding to create a space that reflects our creativity and life on the island, and we value the time and peace we have to engage in play and artistry. The only challenge exists between our varying desires for minimalism and ornamentation. Tom has told me the new shed is out of bounds for doilies.  

sun, dirt & water

Unless you have arrived directly from Saudi Arabia or the Great Sandy Desert, our island is shockingly dry at this time of year. It is now over five months since the last rain drop, and the colours of the landscape are muted by dust and thirst. Coming from a rare visit to Australia in spring, via the rich surrounds of Ubud, where green claims a new intensity, our little garden with its lemongrass, sand and rock statements is harsh reality under the blazing sunshine. 

The goats snuck in the back door while I was away (and Aquaman was napping on the job), and smashes the basil, silverbeet and papaya. At sometime during their feast they had a conscience and left the three precious sunflowers untouched. Now, standing proud in the red dirt is a beacon of yellow, a huge smile from nature, my first sunflower. 

how many men...

...does it take to hang a door?

The architect is on site in his safety boots, high vis and hard hat, offering a little advice on fitting the door jam for the new board room. 

The frame is up and awaiting the delivery of tin for the walls and fly roof. The tank stand is looking on very nervously, aware that it may be overshadowed by the new structure. I am back in Australia for a short visa and hardware run, hoping the toilet will be ready to flush on my return.

office hours

It isn't easy getting work done in a surf camp. There is a continuous stream of "interruptions", starting at 6am with the walking veggie pedlars, then a banana delivery, the building team, and neighbours keen for a cuppa. The kettle is always on and the bamboo blinds open, as every hour is ripe for a casual drop-in.  The idea of work interrupting social interaction or surf is ludicrous. Tides, wind and waves are what matters; just ahead of cold beer (or frozen fruit in our case). The other expats are retired or on short stay holidays, and we wouldn't dare ask "do you mind coming back later, we're working."  It just wouldn't be cricket. Or surf.  

Not that we like to take the whole work thing too seriously. There aren't many offices in the world where you can conduct a meeting where both the architect and client are shirtless, and seated under a coconut palm with an ocean view. The overheads are very low, and the secretary doubles as the tea lady. 

Tom's latest project is a two bedroom, two bathroom villa on an epic headland location. The owner is a young guy of Indonesian/Euro descent, who has freed himself early from the jaws of a mercantile world and joined our evolving community of surf bums. The site is 10 kilometres south of our village, and has a private beach with all day swimming pool. The landscape is wild and rough, with native scrub and sharp limestone rock instead of ordered coconuts and white sand. I love visiting, just to kick around in the leaf litter and pretend it is autumn. Sometimes I even get to hold the smart end of the tape.

spring morning

There aren't any tulips, daffodils or cherry blossom to mark the first day of spring, but the season has a hint of change. We are coming to the end of our short "winter", when we reach for a blanket in the early hours, and I sport a scarf with a bikini. The last rain was on the 21st May, and the days are warm and dry.  Not enough humidity to induce lethargy, but enough to keep my skin from cracking. An onshore mist has veiled the lagoon each morning this week and its water laden air condenses to a dew which quickly evaporates after sunrise. 

We are finally getting some results in our garden, having out-witted the hermit crabs with a corrugated iron barrier fence. It's too slippery for them to climb and they can't jump.  Silverbeet, basil, parsley and rocket are all powering, and we should be picking our first papaya in a couple of months.  I even have some white alyssum for a cottage garden touch. We are a long way off being self sufficient, but picking a few salad greens each day is a start.  

false start

Remember that beautiful semen minyak layer the boys poured over the slab last week?

It didn't stick.

Aquaman had a lovely time chipping it off, and in the process he created enough texture on the slab for a second attempt.