I love gnomes. I never thought i would say that...but, quite simply, they make me happy.
23 June 2013
Posted with Blogsy
A taste of Italy
We had a taste of Italy today at the Preston Peak Winery near Toowoomba. A good time was had by all.
08 June 2013
Scrolls
Today I made cinnamon scrolls (without the cinnamon...unavailable here...)! So I guess I made brown sugar scrolls really or caramel scrolls or something like that. Anyway, they were delicious.
06 June 2013
Our Daily Challenge
There are many challenges for us living in the dense interior of PNG...but the single biggest challenge must surely be the lack of plugs. Yes, plugs. We cannot find a plug to fit our kitchen sink. Neither in PNG nor Australia. This means that washing dishes becomes a race against time, as we watch our precious hot and soapy water leak past our ill-fitting plug. Often we leave the dishes to catch some breaking news on the TV, only to return to a sink full of still-dirty dishes, soggy cloths and a plug covered in food detritus. If stu wants me to look at something or to give me a hug, I tell him to WAIT! lest my dishwater disappears...
05 June 2013
At "home" in the fog
Our home in Papua New Guinea, is located just a few feet away from a deep drop down to a river. Shortly after the river passes by us, it meets another river and becomes a stoney water space stretched across a wide valley. Our home is one of about 24 townhouses which share a single street. Off this single street run several small gravel tracks from which 4 houses at a time are accessed. Here is our track. Our home is on the left closest to the camera. Because of our proximity to the edge of the plateau, we are frequently enveloped by mist and cloud.
04 June 2013
Rain, rain, go away...
We're well and truly into the rainy season here now. Last night it rained without stopping and continued well into the morning. We had a short respite in the middle of the day before it came back with a vengeance. As we sit in our lounge room struggling to hear the evening news it falls and falls and falls. Our bed is damp. Our throats are sore. Our spirits are heavy.
03 June 2013
As promised...
As promised, here are the flowers that I photographed yesterday. The first one looks positively alien...almost alive!
01 June 2013
Lazy Sundays - Hot Stuff and Strange Activity
We've had a lazy Sunday. What a statement! That makes it sound like it's actually possible to have busy Sundays here. But the truth is that there are only lazy Sundays to be had...which of course is special in its own way. So I've been taking photos around the house. I have more flowers to show you tomorrow. This morning we bought a pretty little arrangement of chillis from the local market which was worth posting immediately. This afternoon we heard nationals with sling shots over the fence and spent some time peering at them from the observation tower (our upstairs bedroom). They were hunting for something high up in the trees, unseen to us. Five men crept through the area just outside the compound fence and glanced over at us several times as if our attention worried them. We can only assume that they should not have been hunting there, that the use of a sling shot is illegal or that whatever they were hunting is protected. Ahh...ignorance is bliss...
A good sleep AND a good feed
Ahh...a peaceful night for an exhausted body...a breakfast full of goodness...followed by a lunch of incredibly successful pizza!
Sleepless
We had a sleepless night last night. Remember a few days ago I told you how special the noises of the jungle are? Well, I think I've changed my mind. Maybe we moved into a different season or something...but the spooks were certainly out in the dark foggy hours of last night. Sometimes we were woken by screeches, other times by chirps. There were also beeps, clunks, plops and bangs. At 3am we were both woken at once by a foreign object moving in the roof, then by another falling on the roof! Have I explained that we live on the edge of a precipice that falls two hundred feet to a wild river? Mmm... There are three threats to us here: trees falling on roofs, earthquakes and landslides. Last night "trees falling on roof" featured strongly. However, I must say that some of my "best" nightmares feature suffocation under mud.
31 May 2013
Untitled
PNG has some of the most exquisite flowers. They are the bright colours dotted throughout the dense greens. Here are a couple of my favourites.
30 May 2013
Buying for the dead
My other half had to approve the purchase of 4 coffins today. The things we buy here are very different from the things we have purchased in previous jobs...
29 May 2013
Noises in the jungle..
The jungle shocks me. I go outside at night, to stand in the silence and listen to the noises. I love the screechy birds that entertain us during the day...and the whiney ones that come out at night. I love the great noisy plops of heavy leaves falling to the ground...leaves as big as dinner plates...and almost as heavy too. I love the bats that soundlessly move across the sky above us and the incredible variety of giant moths that clutch the wire screens on our windows. I love the way the cloud comes in at night, creating an eerie thickness...in which we sleep. I love the sudden coolness that tells me that rain is on its way...and the rain that falls as a thick whiteness amd makes us shut our walls of louvres in order to hear the TV...
27 May 2013
Have a look inside our home!
Here are some inside views of our beautiful home...the kichen and the dining room...
25 May 2013
Changes, changes and more changes...
In the space of just a few weeks, i have resigned, prepared to leave Australia and return to Italy within weeks. Then I was convinced to stay at work for another 6 months and promoted to manager!I have had to re-set my life.But I am not complaining. These are exciting times. And the dream is still only months away...In the meantime, to keep the dream alive, I am listening to the sounds of the jungle while I learn Italian and keep crafting!
18 May 2013
I'm on my way back to writing!
Hello Readers
I will shortly be back, writing about our lives in Italy...
But first, there is 6 months worth of preparation for returning to Italy...
along with 6 months worth of living in the jungle in Papua New Guinea!
Stay tuned...
07 March 2011
Playing with fire
Our life here often reminds Stu of his scouting days. He frequently tells me success stories about how he used to light a campfire with only one match, cook a full meal for the scout master and build a bivvy for protection in bad weather.
Well, something happened last week that may put an end to his proud posturing.
He set himself on fire.
It was late winter and we'd already started to think about the jobs outside that needed to be done before the onset of spring. We'd decided that burning the 6-8 piles of weeds and prunings that we'd left to dry over autumn and winter was right up there on the list of priorities.
So last week, on a reasonably clear morning we set off to the bottom paddock, which contained 4 of the said piles. The temperature was still hovering around zero so we were dressed in all our warm gear, including scarves and gloves. We were also armed with the chainsaw and fuel (to cut a few of the larger pieces of wood into firewood), firelighters and matches and a shovel and rake should our bonfire get out of control.
Our first, second and third attempts to light two of the piles resulted in very little flame and much smouldering. In our great disappointment, we convinced ourselves that the piles just needed a bit more sun and then consoled each other by quickly identifying an alternative job closer to the house.
As I was gathering the tools for our return to the house, the aforementioned individual thought he'd give the bonfire one more chance. Unbeknowns to me, he had opened the fuel can and poured fuel on the old oil rag that he used for the chainsaw. He'd then inserted this rag into the middle of one of the piles and set a match to it. All of this careful activity had been conducted with his woollen gloves on.
Suddenly I heard a sort of trembling warble coming from the direction of the said individual. When I looked over at him, I saw that this ex-scout was wildly shaking a flaming glove in a rather panicked way and saying 'oooh, oooh' in a rather understated way. I figured immediately that he didn't want to draw attention to himself lest I realise the stupidity of his actions. But, being a generally insensitive sort of person, I panicked and ran over to him anyway. I couldn't pull the burning glove off his hand because he was waving it around in such an aggressive way that I couldn't get close enough to it. Instead, I did what all good ex-brownies would do. I told him to roll on the grass to smother it.
The individual ignored me. Clearly he thought that my suggestion would extract some unwanted and hysterical laughter from me. With growing alarm, I looked at the flames leaping from his hand. I watched the whites of his eyes as they grew larger and larger. Stu was watching his burning appendage as if it didn't belong to him.
Finally, he managed to wave it around and hit it with the other glove enough to put it out. Then he glanced over at me and I caught an expression which contained horror, relief and pride. I was wondering how he was able to feel any amount of pride at all, when suddenly I saw the other glove on fire! There ensued much the same sequence of events already outlined until he was eventually able to put that one out too.
No more has been said about this incident since it occurred, although I have noticed a distinct absence of scouting stories...
Well, something happened last week that may put an end to his proud posturing.
He set himself on fire.
It was late winter and we'd already started to think about the jobs outside that needed to be done before the onset of spring. We'd decided that burning the 6-8 piles of weeds and prunings that we'd left to dry over autumn and winter was right up there on the list of priorities.
So last week, on a reasonably clear morning we set off to the bottom paddock, which contained 4 of the said piles. The temperature was still hovering around zero so we were dressed in all our warm gear, including scarves and gloves. We were also armed with the chainsaw and fuel (to cut a few of the larger pieces of wood into firewood), firelighters and matches and a shovel and rake should our bonfire get out of control.
Our first, second and third attempts to light two of the piles resulted in very little flame and much smouldering. In our great disappointment, we convinced ourselves that the piles just needed a bit more sun and then consoled each other by quickly identifying an alternative job closer to the house.
As I was gathering the tools for our return to the house, the aforementioned individual thought he'd give the bonfire one more chance. Unbeknowns to me, he had opened the fuel can and poured fuel on the old oil rag that he used for the chainsaw. He'd then inserted this rag into the middle of one of the piles and set a match to it. All of this careful activity had been conducted with his woollen gloves on.
Suddenly I heard a sort of trembling warble coming from the direction of the said individual. When I looked over at him, I saw that this ex-scout was wildly shaking a flaming glove in a rather panicked way and saying 'oooh, oooh' in a rather understated way. I figured immediately that he didn't want to draw attention to himself lest I realise the stupidity of his actions. But, being a generally insensitive sort of person, I panicked and ran over to him anyway. I couldn't pull the burning glove off his hand because he was waving it around in such an aggressive way that I couldn't get close enough to it. Instead, I did what all good ex-brownies would do. I told him to roll on the grass to smother it.
The individual ignored me. Clearly he thought that my suggestion would extract some unwanted and hysterical laughter from me. With growing alarm, I looked at the flames leaping from his hand. I watched the whites of his eyes as they grew larger and larger. Stu was watching his burning appendage as if it didn't belong to him.
Finally, he managed to wave it around and hit it with the other glove enough to put it out. Then he glanced over at me and I caught an expression which contained horror, relief and pride. I was wondering how he was able to feel any amount of pride at all, when suddenly I saw the other glove on fire! There ensued much the same sequence of events already outlined until he was eventually able to put that one out too.
No more has been said about this incident since it occurred, although I have noticed a distinct absence of scouting stories...
05 March 2011
Still obsessed...
We're still obsessed with our septic system...
We've been uncovering it, opening it, peering into it, testing it, emptying it, poking it, prodding it, stirring it and smelling it ever since we moved here.
Lately, we've become aware of a rather distasteful stench hanging around the house.
Because it smelled strangely like decomposing excrement and old grey water, we quickly suspected that our septic wasn't 'balanced'.
When we did our usual thing and surfed the internet for a solution, we found that we needed to re-balance the bacteria which breaks down the 'horribles'.
So now we're 'feeding' our septic system!
Yes, we regularly feed it with a lovely concoction of full cream milk and vinegar. This unusual combination is left in a bowl for about ten minutes to 'mature'. Once the mixture assumes the appearance of a congealed sort of curdled yoghurt, it's ready!
Then we tip it down the sink.
And we wait.
A few hours later this beautiful mix of healthy bacteria has commenced its work on our 'contributions' to the septic system and the air around the house smells like roses again (sort of...).
Our solution certainly beats dropping a newly killed chicken head into the septic...apparently the old Italian remedy...
We've been uncovering it, opening it, peering into it, testing it, emptying it, poking it, prodding it, stirring it and smelling it ever since we moved here.
Lately, we've become aware of a rather distasteful stench hanging around the house.
Because it smelled strangely like decomposing excrement and old grey water, we quickly suspected that our septic wasn't 'balanced'.
When we did our usual thing and surfed the internet for a solution, we found that we needed to re-balance the bacteria which breaks down the 'horribles'.
So now we're 'feeding' our septic system!
Yes, we regularly feed it with a lovely concoction of full cream milk and vinegar. This unusual combination is left in a bowl for about ten minutes to 'mature'. Once the mixture assumes the appearance of a congealed sort of curdled yoghurt, it's ready!
Then we tip it down the sink.
And we wait.
A few hours later this beautiful mix of healthy bacteria has commenced its work on our 'contributions' to the septic system and the air around the house smells like roses again (sort of...).
Our solution certainly beats dropping a newly killed chicken head into the septic...apparently the old Italian remedy...
05 February 2011
Stripping, filling & painting
Stu and I work well as a team. Well, most of the time.
One of my major jobs this year has been to restore our internal doors.
When we arrived here, all of the upstairs internal doors were painted black.
I have trouble with black doors. I think they look depressing and uninviting.
So I determined to re-create them...
My first attempt to strip, sand, fill and stain a door was a nightmare. I tried to do it without the assistance of stripper and it was only when I realised that there were multiple layers of lead-based paint on the door that I realised chemical assistance was absolutely necessary.
Then, once I'd stripped the old layers of brown, olive green and black paint off as much as I could, I realised that it was always going to remain patchy and wouldn't take an even stain.
So I stripped it as evenly as I could, filled the many cracks and holes that punctured its surface, then painted it a warm cream water-based colour!
Since that first door, I've done three more. They are all matching and the same cream colour. They make me want to walk into the rooms that hide behind them.
Stu and I make a good 'door team'. Stu removes them, I restore them and Stu re-hangs them.
The only time he has become frustrated with me was when, in my enthusiasm, I filled some bolt holes that he'd painstakingly measured for re-hanging!
One of my major jobs this year has been to restore our internal doors.
When we arrived here, all of the upstairs internal doors were painted black.
I have trouble with black doors. I think they look depressing and uninviting.
So I determined to re-create them...
My first attempt to strip, sand, fill and stain a door was a nightmare. I tried to do it without the assistance of stripper and it was only when I realised that there were multiple layers of lead-based paint on the door that I realised chemical assistance was absolutely necessary.
Then, once I'd stripped the old layers of brown, olive green and black paint off as much as I could, I realised that it was always going to remain patchy and wouldn't take an even stain.
So I stripped it as evenly as I could, filled the many cracks and holes that punctured its surface, then painted it a warm cream water-based colour!
Since that first door, I've done three more. They are all matching and the same cream colour. They make me want to walk into the rooms that hide behind them.
Stu and I make a good 'door team'. Stu removes them, I restore them and Stu re-hangs them.
The only time he has become frustrated with me was when, in my enthusiasm, I filled some bolt holes that he'd painstakingly measured for re-hanging!
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