timber huts


‘Vega Cottage’ by Kolman Boyle Architects. The foundations of this timber cabin are integrated perfectly into the craggy shoreline of the Norwegian island of Vega. The design was inspired by the fisherman’s boathouses that line the island’s shore.


 Okay so … Anyone that is in Bali needs to commute to Ubud on a Friday night for Ecstatic Dance at Yoga Barn… Where 200 SOBER people/yogis with a whole lot of good vibes and dreadlocks stomp around a tree house timber hut while a Dj blasts anything and EVERYTHING from  Disclosure, to psytrance, glitch, Chet Faker, Willow Beats, Flume, Opiou, Wobble, anything with Heavy bass and about 5 or 6 tracks from Dj Dakini’s mixes….. Just to name a few. I don’t think I’ve ever stomped, gypsy giggled or jellyfished so hard in my life. Not even under the influence of … So many good vibes.

I tried to vary the classes i chose even though Vinyasa Flow is my favourite, because i find it much easier to meditate within myself as i perform exercises as apposed to sitting still - plus i love a good challenge and a sweaty work out. I loved every class i attended, the magical calming vibe of the whole place made every moment one of purity and pleasure for my busy monkey mind. However, If you ever wish to try Laya yoga… i suggest you go with an open heart, mind… and with a friend. My friend Leah and i visited Laya Yoga at 7am on a friday morning, being a level 2 class at that time we thought it would be a good workout… but nooo.. that was just something else! As we left the room we noticed the WARNING sings at the door.. learnt my lesson there! Look it up - Crazy stuff.

Riding a push bike around ubud was awe inspiring, through the pink-tipped vine arch, rice fields, waterfalls and moss-covered temples. I just cant even explain it in plain words… so i wrote a little something to express my absolute unadulterated infatuation with Ubud. But at the same time i am ever so torn. I need my salt water therapy…sand…waves…dearly departed ocean.

Santuary…a place I want to travel deeper & deeper into. Into the dark lands… Into the silence, the forests, the soft thud of footsteps on moss & damp the clear air that smells of life and decay. Plunge under icy waters, where sounds is muffled except for breathing in pure white sand made of countless broken pieces. 

There I will find what is waiting, changing, growing, morphing for Me, by Me - A Home.

  Entwined in mystery. From vines that cling, strangle and climb from the thick, dark, damp to the bright clear sky, emerges the black lace silhouettes of leaves & branches.

  I am lost & found. Searching & content. Yet footsteps are washed away. Ripples become still. Branches snap back. Even the most exquisite, perfect Dream is blemished like a leaf nibbled, like a broken shell, a crack in a powerful bough. The Dream’s flaw is that it is not reality.