Nourish Me

bali: the north, a market...

...and the end (thankfully, I hear the collective sigh) of Lucy's Slide Night. Yes, holidays are great, but you know how it is - you get home and life just keeps on keeping on, throwing things your way. If anyone's really, really keen, I've created a set of the photos on flickr which is best viewed on black. When you get there click on the first image in the set, press the L key on your keyboard et, voila. Noice. 

The north is beautiful - gorgeous sunrises, glorious sunsets and gardens that made the heart sing. It gets bonus points from me for being much, much quieter than Ubud and having unspoilt beaches. First stop was Pemaron, right on the ocean front, part of the area known collectively as Lovina.       

Our hotel had THE best shower. Ever.

I miss the bird. 

One of the most exciting things we did was visit the market in Singaraja, stage one of the cooking class we stumbled across. Going with a local - Putu was elegant, funny and thrilled about the blueberries I grow at home - allowed us to dive in deep, ask questions and stop to take photos that, ordinarily, I might not feel entirely comfortable taking.

My favourite photos of the trip.

(Does anyone know who that long-tailed fellow is?)

And then we spent the morning cooking rather wonderful vegetarian food. The food in Bali was outstanding. Breakfasts of nasi goreng, mee goreng and banana pancakes (not all at once, phew) were followed by plates of fruit, none cut so prettily as the plate served in Serririt. 

Serririt, where we stayed put for a week or so (me by the pool), was true tranquility. The gardeners introduced themselves to me and we would chat about their ongoing work each morning. I think that they sensed a fellow gardener. Gardens are incredibly important to the Balinese. I love them completely for that. You can use Serririt (in the north west) as a base for treks into the magic - seriously transforming - steep hills of rural Munduk. If you really want to get away from the tourists, where it's cool and misty up high, where things are achingly beautiful, then Munduk is THE place to be. We wound our way to Ubud over those hills having climbed some of them a few days earlier and watched it all unfold...just beautiful.  

Gill's written up Ubud and my feelings about the place are very much in line with hers. Ubud is all about the shopping these days...and shopping is not my favourite pastime, I can tell you, though the eating was excellent.

That said, I did come away with three noteworthy items. The shirt below, which I am head over heels for, came from Threads of Life, a fairtrade collective that you must visit       

and a shirt for Peter and a handbag (below) for me from a tailor called Manik Bali.

(The camellia is just a bit of frou frou)

Manik Bali do not have a website - too busy weaving and making exquisite clothing, I imagine - so here are their details:

Manik Bali

Jl. Raya Ubud (in front of - practically opposite  - Ubud Market)

Ph: +62 361 972 992

Go early, I say. We discovered them right at the very end...and I am still dreaming about their fabrics.

quieter, stronger

Wake on Saturday to find it not just cool, but cold. Layer up, breakfast quickly, then hop into the car. The sky is an unpromising grey as we head to the market, but it’s big and clean from all the recent rain, and I know the weather's going to improve. It must. We've a concrete slab to build.

Swerve slightly, missing a rabbit running across the wide downhill run toward the dam, my favourite part of the drive, its white tail diving into the blackberried edges of the road. Slow down, wind through the turns, see water (still!) flowing over the dam wall as we cross the bridge, then back up, a steep and narrow climb. Horses hanging out by the fence at the top on a cleared patch of farm land on the ridge. I’d like to stop, but remind myself that it's good to catch moments like this from the passenger window, and leave them simply as they are.

The market is already busy. A chat to the elderly men who man the raffle ticket desk, all of us wrapped up against the cold. I write our address, they tell me they know it well, that it’s a good place to be. Things to do, so we've got to be quick. Find the greens stall, pick out fresh - very - coriander, a couple of bunches of watercress, carrots and radishes, replete with snappy greens and, pleasingly, a bunch of amaranth leaves. Tomatoes of all shapes and sizes next door, sweet yellow peaches and new season apples, bagged up with a wonky-toothed grin.

There are caged birds here, too, sold from the tray of a ute. Hens and peacocks, but it is the ducks, huddling together, that draw me closer. I want to take their photo, but I realize there’s a panic among them. Too many ducks in too small a space. Suddenly uncomfortable, I put my camera away.

Home to tea, and the makings of our first concrete slab, the base for a brick oven. It was a good weekend. All of this is to say that I love our new life, feel the rhythm of things beginning to make sense. I feel quieter, stronger, and happier in those deep parts of myself that, for a time, felt lost.

Eggs

Eggs. Lovely shapes to photograph.

A dozen free-range duck eggs for five bucks is quite the bargain, I reckon.