As you may have noticed my blogging schedule is somewhat random and erratic. Ok, lets be honest – there is no ‘schedule’. I write when I feel like writing, hope you’re ok with that! In all seriousness though – if you find yourself checking back here regularly and not finding any updates, I’d like to suggest that you scroll down a little and look over to the right sidebar. I’ve recently installed a little box there where you can subscribe by email, that way as soon as there’s some action here, you will get the post delivered straight to your inbox.
I’ve been blogging on various platforms for about 6 years now, and I’ve never had any success in committing to regular posting. So I already know what I’m up against, and history suggests that I am setting myself up for another failure to follow through, but I’m feeling the need to implement a regular weekly post. A weekly reflection of sorts? Every week here on this rugged island brings new challenges, experiences and lessons. Different feelings arise, new questions pop up and sometimes answers appear. I’ve started writing things down. They’re random notes – there are no life changing epiphanies here, but I think I’ll enjoy having the little reminders of each week ‘that was’.
Feeling physical limitations. I’ve been wanting to climb up to this lighthouse since we arrived, and when I realised our Hash run was taking us up there last weekend I was so excited. We bounded off into the jungle at a cracking pace and powered up the first hill – at the front of the pack. At the top of this hill however, was a steep descent into a valley and I was reminded that my knees no longer descend with ease. My pace was reduced to a painful hobble, one by one our competitors overtook us and I struggled the whole way with the sad realisation that my climbing/trekking days might be over.
a) have white skin
b) carry a fancy looking camera
c) can’t speak Indonesian, and therefore are unable to negotiate yourself a good price
Seeing that there is a very good reason everyone says ‘don’t eat the fish’. *Vomit*. ________________________________________________________________________________
Wondering if this was really necessary. Seriously. Dear Almighty Ocean,
I believe you have made your point. I do have to question though, whether your point could have been made without leaving me looking (and feeling) like a victim of a tiger attack?
Anyway, I look forward to one day being able to get comfortable again. I’ll be back.
Peace out. x
Loving sunny mornings and dark, rainy afternoons. The wet season was supposed to be over, but it’s been pouring almost every afternoon. Because we live under a canopy of jungle trees, even after the rain has stopped it still sounds like it’s raining. So peaceful. ________________________________________________________________________________
Baking using the ingredients available to me. Coconut is the one ingredient readily available here in the jungle. Using coconut sugar gave this cheesecake a beautiful caramel flavour, and making a butterscotch sauce with coconut cream worked surprisingly well. The cheesecake received a lot of attention, and it didn’t last long. Sadly there is no longer cream cheese available in the shop, and as much as I’m getting comfortable with improvising in the kitchen, I’m not sure that I can produce a cheesecake without cheese.
Noticing all of the butterflies. So many butterflies.
Thinking about all the things that a butterfly represents. Joy, freedom and transformation. Remembering the way I used to chase butterflies as a child, for no reason other than being enchanted by their vibrant colours. I never caught them, the joy was in chasing them. Moving so playfully. Now I chase them with a camera.
Making something from nothing. Last week I impressed myself with my own ‘make something out of nothing’ skills, piecing together this little sailing boat from some burnt driftwood, a length of bamboo, a couple of twigs and some fabric scraps. I have so many ideas in my head, and my collection of ‘rubbish’ (as Barry calls it) from the beach is growing.
One last thing. Maybe that makes it 11 things, oh well who’s counting? This moment. These words.