somewhere over the rainbow.
I'm a firm believer in the little things in life; that any one thing is no greater than the sum of its parts. With that in mind, I give you an ode to the idiosyncrasies of the island life: the small things that become the great things, that leave a lasting impression in your mind and a smile on your face.
Free snacks.
You might have to scale a tree or try your luck with the bamboo "jab and duck" method, but it doesn't get fresher (or cheaper) than this. Grapefruit pictured courtesy of the tree in front of the clinic, a really long piece of bamboo and sheer perseverance.
The Fauna.
I've introduced you to Mitz (pronounced "meets") before, but she deserves another shout out. Originally re-appropriated from a coconut plantation for the explicit purpose of pest control, she's become something of a village legend, the most reliable of alarm clocks (5:30 AM on the dot, every day) and a priceless confidant out here in the bush. While many of the kids out here roast cats inside bamboo shoots as an after school snack, Mitz, in all of her well-nourished, vermin-free glory, represents the under explored potential for symbiosis between man and animal in the wilds of the village and fascinates young and old alike.
Nearly every man, woman and child in Lovunivili and its surrounding villages: "She is fat. Why is this?"
K: "I feed her."
"She is clean. Why is this?"
K: "She has time to clean herself because she's not running for her life through the bush from school children."
"She is not afraid of man. Why is this?"
K: "She knows she's not going to end up on someone's dinner plate because she's protected by the white man. Also, I don't beat her with a stick like most other people do to their "pets" pre boiling pot."
"Can we eat her?"
K: No.
And lets face it, she's just cute. Suffering from recurrent giardia? At least you've got a kitten to keep you company while you rock back in forth in the fetal position, contemplating the difference between protozoan parasites and digesting glass. I may have lost contact with one too many a friend stateside, but I'd be hard pressed to find a better companion out here.
And this little guy. Our jungles may not boast monkeys or elephants, but not every one can say "a pig followed me home from work today." Add Mitz to the equation (she follows me around the village with unwavering tenacity) and I've got my very own island entourage.
The view.
There's something about waking up every morning to the sun rising, in flaming orange and pink, over a tropical island in the distance, flanked by the vast Pacific and silhoutted by palm and banana trees, that makes even the worst weeks seem bearable. That reminds you no matter how rough the going can get (and that can be pretty rough out here), that life is beautiful, and that everything is going to be just fine.
This is a view I've come to know all to well- the road from my village in the mountains to the commercial/provincial center, aka access to refrigeration and communication with the outside world. Roughly a 3 hour walk at several times per month, I've come to know this road quite intimately. How to avoid a serious dusting from passing vehicles, the proper zig-zag formation for optimum shade, which trees to avoid lest a decapitation by loose coconut, how to hold a pair of cheap flip flops together with nothing more than ingenuity and some pandanus fronds and other such bushwhacking survival skills. I can't say I'm always charmed by this walk, particularly so when caught in an unexpected and instantaneous tropical monsoon or hauling supplies and mail back up to the village and feeling very much like a mule, but nonetheless I've adopted a "these boots are made for walkin'" philosophy and at times it's quite empowering to get by with nothing more than your own two feet. Plus, my calf muscles would put yours to shame. Above is my favorite part of the walk, an hour and a half down the road when the bush gives way to the ocean. Not pictured: the phenomenal breeze this spot boasts at any given time. Island AC, affectionately.
New friends.
This is Jenny. On an average week I find her scaling the guava tree outside my house and peeking in my windows asking if she can sweep my house. She's also a total nail polish connoisseur and the absolute best at procuring any/all fruit to be had on the island, at any given time. Need an avocado? A lemon? A breadfruit? A smile to melt your soul? She's your girl.
Sometimes she comes complete with sidekick, too.
Tryna give me a thumbs up. If this photo doesn't arrest you with fuzzy feelings, I'd be inclined to say you had no heart.
The adventure of each day, and the comedy of it all.
Every day here is different, and holds innumerable new surprises and lessons. I wish I had cameras in my eyeballs so I could photograph all of the strange, hilarious or otherwise moving things I witness on a daily basis. Above is one such instance I happened to be camera ready. I happened upon this scene at my neighbors house, not 30 meters from my front door. In preparation for a marriage ceremony, the village women butchered the carcasses of several pigs, excavated the organ and entrails and held them all above their heads, as if offering thanks to the island gods, while dancing around the fire chanting. After which, their bounty was speared with bamboo as shown, roasted over the fire, and shared among them. I was privy to part of the liver. At least, I think that's what it was... I have a video of this whole ordeal, but as the internet connection is nothing short of prehistoric out here, I'm unable to upload it. Ask me for it in about a years time if you're still interested.
Each day is an adventure. Each day I learn something new, about myself, humanity, or the world at large. Whether it be a good day, a bad day, or a day in which I can't even pinpoint the outcome as the whole roller coaster of the experience leaves me flustered and verbally inept, I'm glad to be out here. I'm happy to be doing something for the world. Outside of a cubicle. Outside of the shackles of my once incredibly narrow comfort zone and the maddeningly self-centered culture that bred it. So here I am, world. Whether you're my biggest fan or my most accomplished foe, you can't say I'm not grabbing life by the horns. Or the pig by the liver, in any case.
Free snacks.
You might have to scale a tree or try your luck with the bamboo "jab and duck" method, but it doesn't get fresher (or cheaper) than this. Grapefruit pictured courtesy of the tree in front of the clinic, a really long piece of bamboo and sheer perseverance.
The Fauna.
I've introduced you to Mitz (pronounced "meets") before, but she deserves another shout out. Originally re-appropriated from a coconut plantation for the explicit purpose of pest control, she's become something of a village legend, the most reliable of alarm clocks (5:30 AM on the dot, every day) and a priceless confidant out here in the bush. While many of the kids out here roast cats inside bamboo shoots as an after school snack, Mitz, in all of her well-nourished, vermin-free glory, represents the under explored potential for symbiosis between man and animal in the wilds of the village and fascinates young and old alike.
Nearly every man, woman and child in Lovunivili and its surrounding villages: "She is fat. Why is this?"
K: "I feed her."
"She is clean. Why is this?"
K: "She has time to clean herself because she's not running for her life through the bush from school children."
"She is not afraid of man. Why is this?"
K: "She knows she's not going to end up on someone's dinner plate because she's protected by the white man. Also, I don't beat her with a stick like most other people do to their "pets" pre boiling pot."
"Can we eat her?"
K: No.
And lets face it, she's just cute. Suffering from recurrent giardia? At least you've got a kitten to keep you company while you rock back in forth in the fetal position, contemplating the difference between protozoan parasites and digesting glass. I may have lost contact with one too many a friend stateside, but I'd be hard pressed to find a better companion out here.
And this little guy. Our jungles may not boast monkeys or elephants, but not every one can say "a pig followed me home from work today." Add Mitz to the equation (she follows me around the village with unwavering tenacity) and I've got my very own island entourage.
The view.
There's something about waking up every morning to the sun rising, in flaming orange and pink, over a tropical island in the distance, flanked by the vast Pacific and silhoutted by palm and banana trees, that makes even the worst weeks seem bearable. That reminds you no matter how rough the going can get (and that can be pretty rough out here), that life is beautiful, and that everything is going to be just fine.
This is a view I've come to know all to well- the road from my village in the mountains to the commercial/provincial center, aka access to refrigeration and communication with the outside world. Roughly a 3 hour walk at several times per month, I've come to know this road quite intimately. How to avoid a serious dusting from passing vehicles, the proper zig-zag formation for optimum shade, which trees to avoid lest a decapitation by loose coconut, how to hold a pair of cheap flip flops together with nothing more than ingenuity and some pandanus fronds and other such bushwhacking survival skills. I can't say I'm always charmed by this walk, particularly so when caught in an unexpected and instantaneous tropical monsoon or hauling supplies and mail back up to the village and feeling very much like a mule, but nonetheless I've adopted a "these boots are made for walkin'" philosophy and at times it's quite empowering to get by with nothing more than your own two feet. Plus, my calf muscles would put yours to shame. Above is my favorite part of the walk, an hour and a half down the road when the bush gives way to the ocean. Not pictured: the phenomenal breeze this spot boasts at any given time. Island AC, affectionately.
New friends.
This is Jenny. On an average week I find her scaling the guava tree outside my house and peeking in my windows asking if she can sweep my house. She's also a total nail polish connoisseur and the absolute best at procuring any/all fruit to be had on the island, at any given time. Need an avocado? A lemon? A breadfruit? A smile to melt your soul? She's your girl.
Sometimes she comes complete with sidekick, too.
Tryna give me a thumbs up. If this photo doesn't arrest you with fuzzy feelings, I'd be inclined to say you had no heart.
The adventure of each day, and the comedy of it all.
Every day here is different, and holds innumerable new surprises and lessons. I wish I had cameras in my eyeballs so I could photograph all of the strange, hilarious or otherwise moving things I witness on a daily basis. Above is one such instance I happened to be camera ready. I happened upon this scene at my neighbors house, not 30 meters from my front door. In preparation for a marriage ceremony, the village women butchered the carcasses of several pigs, excavated the organ and entrails and held them all above their heads, as if offering thanks to the island gods, while dancing around the fire chanting. After which, their bounty was speared with bamboo as shown, roasted over the fire, and shared among them. I was privy to part of the liver. At least, I think that's what it was... I have a video of this whole ordeal, but as the internet connection is nothing short of prehistoric out here, I'm unable to upload it. Ask me for it in about a years time if you're still interested.
Each day is an adventure. Each day I learn something new, about myself, humanity, or the world at large. Whether it be a good day, a bad day, or a day in which I can't even pinpoint the outcome as the whole roller coaster of the experience leaves me flustered and verbally inept, I'm glad to be out here. I'm happy to be doing something for the world. Outside of a cubicle. Outside of the shackles of my once incredibly narrow comfort zone and the maddeningly self-centered culture that bred it. So here I am, world. Whether you're my biggest fan or my most accomplished foe, you can't say I'm not grabbing life by the horns. Or the pig by the liver, in any case.
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