up the back

This post has been steeping in the mystifying pot of the internet for a week, where I have been unable to access it. After many long frustrating hours it has finally loaded and I am pleased to send it on its way with images from an early morning walk; the old architecture and the new, locals doing their thing, and a couple of four legged friends. 

The season is changing - as southern Australia heads into spring our winds shift onshore and the humidity heralds the beginning of the build up. After 45 days straight with waves Aquaman has been spending a bit more time at the desk this week, where he is dedicated to learning Revit  (computer aided design) and moving out of the dark ages of a pencil and drawing board. No more crinkled drafting paper on humid days or scratching off pen lines with a scalpel. 

wedding feast

Preparing a wedding feast is a mammoth task, involving women from all branches of the extended family. As with an Aussie event, the men tend to do the heavy lifting; erecting tarps, unloading plastic chairs and building a temporary fence around the venue with coconut leaves and sticks. Then they squat under the shade for the rest of the day while the women chop and stir and stoke and wash.  The average wedding has around 300 plus guests - that is, most of the village - and the food preparation begins at dawn on the big day.  Rice, pig, goat and noodles are standard, with additional dishes added relative to the wealth of the family.  I have a morbid fascination with the massive vestibules of boiled meat, and emit involuntary shrieks of horror when my lens hovers too close. 

The groom's parents foot the bill for all food and water (the reception is alcohol free aside from the odd nip of sopi out the back), and family members are asked to make a donation toward the catering and "hire" of equipment.  The pots, woks, plates and serving bowls are community owned and are stored at the chief's house in between events. 

Hanging out the back with the ladies around an oversized pot of boiling rice is always a valued experience. I feel a sense of kinship that is absent in my Australian life where I don't even know the name of my neighbours.  Over the years I have learned more insider snippets of custom, gossip and tradition, and my roving camera and meat avoidance is always welcome entertainment.

indonesia's got talent

The annual inter-school singing competition is a big deal for all concerned. Hundreds of kids from primary schools throughout the western half of the island converge at the church with doting parents, teachers, extended family and dogs in tow.  It is serious business, with three judges awarding a trophy and cash prize to the winning school.  I was asked to photograph our local school, appearing sixth and eleventh on the programme. In between I could escape the stifling church interior and watch the real action outside. Strict teachers and hovering parents insisted on last minute practice of scales and smiles, and refinement of the conductor's arm movements. A team of mums prepared a take-away dinner of rice, fried noodles and unidentified meat morsels for every child, which was presented to them, along with a plastic cup of water, after their performance. The single-use plastic rubbish was a disturbing sideline to the event.

Each group sang the same two songs, and by the eleventh round I definitely had the tune sussed. I felt a swelling of pride to see the village kids singing angelically in their matching polyester gowns (purple and green). Unfortunately we didn't win, or come second or third, but there is always next year.

the tom & gerry show

Shoulder to head high.  Clean. Classic. Crowd of two.  It's the Tom and Gerry show. Tom's riding the toothpick with go-fast red boardies.

What session would be complete without a stray surf dog?  Complete with a collar made from an old leg rope.

on your bike : pedal power

Our preferred mode of transport, and for those locals who haven't been lured by the hum of a two-stroke.

Darwin lives on

Last year a skinny and timid dog started sniffing around the houses of Aussie Parade.  Dogs have a difficult life in Indonesia and this little fella was a poor specimen.  We gave him scraps and he kept coming back, so we adopted him into our community and named him "Darwin" in honor of Charles and his 200th birthday.  Darwin wasn't fussed about our vegan offerings, preferring the chicken bones, pork fat and boiled goat from our neighbors - and I thought he was starving. 

By October, Darwin's coat was shining and he was bounding about the compound.  Still very shy, but full of zest.  This had us worried for his welfare in the off-season, when he could be a plump offering on the Christmas table.  Dog is a delicacy, and there is an annual dog party to chow down on man's best friend.  We once witnessed a family eating their "pet" after it was run over earlier that morning!

To my delight, Darwin was waiting to welcome us home this year, albeit a little thinner.  Long live Darwin.