These days occur

I'm back! Both literally and... literally. I've been away on holiday in India, and one thing I want to get back into now I'm home is this poor neglected blog. So I'm back, back home :)

So, story and pictures time. Bear with me on this. It gets better, as they say. 

Years ago, many now thank goodness, I was struck with a depression so deep I never actually thought I would claw my way out. And though I was never suicidal, I would so often wish just to... not exist. I just wanted to fade away, to no longer feel the sadness I thought would never end. It may seem selfish to wish away a life, but that's depression for you, the fucker. It doesn't think like that. It seeks to destroy, not appreciate. I didn't care that life was valuable, worthy, precious. I just wanted it gone.

Nowadays, there are still some days that I think back on those times. But not sad days, happy ones. I look back and think that if that had happened this day could have never occurred. And it seems so crazy, and hopeful and amazing. That I am a person having such a day, when once I wanted all days to end. It's the most beautiful thing, to be so grateful and happy. And alive.

My afternoon at the "Beatles Ashram" was one of these days. It's such a surreal and lovely place, so peaceful and rich with strange history. As I sat with my new friends, letting the sound of the music and the sun wash over me, I realised "This day could have never occurred". And suddenly the day felt more like a miracle than a moment in time.  This day could have never occurred. How sad, and how wonderful. 

The thing is, there are so many days that could never have occurred. Not because of death, but because of fear, of shyness, of whatever, whatever holds you back. Because you didn't take that chance to do something new, didn't tell someone how you felt, weren't paying attention, didn't say yes. I think of the things I did to make that day exist; got on a plane, smiled at a stranger, asked a new friend to join me on an adventure. How close I could have been to doing none of those things, how scary each one was, in their own way. But I did them and this day occurred. There's the miracle, right there. These days occur. 

"Beatle's Ashram", Rishikesh:

xx

Cabin Porn!

The best kind! Apart from this kind, of course.

All images from Cabin Porn aka my "happy place" :)

xx

Tiny homes!

Each cost an average of $200 to make! The roofs are transparent so you can gaze at the treetops. Windows are made from old washing machines!

Says Mr. Diedricksen... “I built it thinking it might be a place for people to stay who were drunk or annoying, so I didn’t want them staying in the Vermont cabin with me. I had envisioned all these microstructures as places to sleep for the people who say, ‘Oh, I forgot my sleeping bag.’ Almost like the Ewok village, all these little micro-shelters dotting my land"...

I'm drunk and annoying! Where's my tiny house??!

From "The $200 Microhouse" published in this weeks' NY Times. Photos by Erik Jacobs; slideshow here.

xx

Lunuganga

Okay... new tactic! Otherwise this holiday wrap up will finish in... March. 2012. So I'll focus on highlights, which won't really cut much out, since everything was pretty amazing. But I'll try!

Lunuganga was a DEFINITE highlight and my second stop after Bentota beach. Although technically still located in Bentota, Lunuganga was a fifteen minute tuk-tuk ride through villages and paddy fields, perched on a hill overlooking a lake and an island of overgrown jungle. Being the estate of Geoffrey Bawa, I knew it would be something special... but I was unprepared for the absolute stillness and serenity which enveloped me second I was escorted through the gate. This was architecture like I had never before experienced. The initial view of the house is designed so through the corridor a glimpse beyond to the lake and island can be glimpsed. And what a view it is...

One of the other highlights of staying at Lunuganga were the staff, who are keepers of the estate and so informed and passionate about Bawa's work. From the charming Krishna who guided me through the main houses and gardens, pointing out all Bawa's favourite spots and the many incredible details of his work, to the cheekily humoured Damien who took me for a 6am stroll through the overgrown island jungle over paths and bridges he had made... and the manager Michael, whose conversation was just the right amount of witty and dry for my taste! Michael and Damien insisting on referring to everything... animals, peoples, inanimate objects... as "fellows" and "chaps" which I utterly adored. I felt like I was in a Gerald Durrell novel, listening to the lively conversation chattering on beside me.

Heaven!

And as if the delightfulness of my companions was not enough the beauty of the surroundings never failed to make themself known... the dining table overlooking the magnolia tree and lake, the nooks and crannies where one could sit and drink in the view, the shaded spot where Bawa sat and ate lunch every day, the meditation corners, the houses built to best capture the view and jungle environs... so delightful. During the day colourful flowers carpeted the ground, and in the evening fireflies glowed on the horizons and in the thick trees, buzzing around me as I padded over the damp grass to tea. Monkeys cavorted between the tall palms and frogs croaked in the afternoon heat, dragonflies flew over the wild waterliles and cows lazed by the pond. And no walk would be complete without the accompanying presence of four cheerful dogs.

Did I mention it was heaven??!

I will let pictures do the rest of the talking before I run out of adjectives to gush with... or before I whip myself into a frenzy of "homesickness" for this magical spot...

Did I mention it was heaven? Oh... yeah... I guess I did :)

xx

Geoffrey Bawa

"Architecture cannot be totally explained but must be experienced"

"Every artist works on a different scale. A page. A painting. A sonata. A film. A novel. A house. A garden. But essentially they all create, in some ways, self-portraits of themselves. Art is a long intimacy. The scale of the achievement might be grand and take years but it has to be personal and carefully pieced together and specific to its culture"

(Micheal Ondaatje, on Lunuganga)

xx