Final overseas dispatch.

Well, I'm headed out today, back to the USA. Perth - Auckland, 12 hour layover in Auckland, Auckland - San Francisco-Philly-Boston.

I'll still be blogging - my work, drawings, my processed photos, etc, and I'm excited to report I've had 995 hits so far. Thanks y'all!

So, I've had the adventure of a lifetime, and pretty much all I can think about is the next adventure....

Full moon, Gobi Desert.

The Perfect Cafe.

Lunch and drawing at Liberte, Albany, Western Australia.

I've found them in every city. Without exception, they have: 

1. Good seats. Not too hard, not too soft, preferably with a back, no arms. 

2. Good tables. Not too high, not too low, with room for a drink, a snack, and a sketchbook [or two]. 

3. Good view. Extra points for: lively street, body of water, or trees.

4. Good people watching.

5. Cold beers on tap, good snacks. Sometimes I just want some fries, or pho, or affogato in the middle of the day, or late at night. 

6. A good playlist. This is the make or break factor. Many cafes seem to have all of the above, and then fall flat on their faces when it comes to music. What's with the Muzak remakes of 80s songs in this hemisphere? 

7. Attentive [but not hovering] waitstaff. 

8. A good crowd, hopefully a mix of travelers and locals - might be working too, or chatting, or just taking it all in.

9. WiFi that actually works, and that doesn't cost an arm and a leg.

After 12+ weeks of travel, cafes become offices, places to meet people, places to have both a taste of home [the aforementioned fries] and a taste of the locality [I still haven't figured out how to order coffee here in Australia...]. I've been doing a lot of drawing in these types of places, and one of the first things I think about in a new place is where a good working/thinking/sitting spot might be. Since I'm without a living room, or an office, or a couch, even - and I don't really want to be sitting in my hotel room when I need to work - I have to rely on public places. This might be the difference between a tourist and a traveler, or it could just be a function of the length of the trip. In any case, I'd like to call out the hall-of-fame spots* so far on my trip: 

Beijing: Beijing Downtown Backpackers' Association, Nanluoguxian Alley. Good drawing spot. Runner up: Houhai Lake cafes.

Ulaanbaatar: Cafe Amsterdam, hands down. When we needed a western breakfast [you would too, after a week of munching on mutton in the Gobi], when we needed to draw for an hour or two, when we needed a cold Khar Khorum, when we wanted to escape UB. Runner up: Sacher's Baeckerei. Delicious pastries, a strange breakfast concoction, lots of German mine engineers, and a decor straight out of Bavaria.

Seoul: I don't feel like we were here long enough to find a dedicated spot, but the rooftop of our hostel was pretty great. 

Hanoi: KOTO. Good cause [the cafe is a training school for former street kids], and good feel for drawing. Runner-up: LaPlace Hanoi. Mostly because of the kraft-paper tablecloths and basket of crayons.

Hoi An: Tam Tam Jardin. Perfect playlist. Mango lassi. Yes. Runner up: The beach.

Kuala Lumpur: Was only here a couple of days, but I found a great spot: Palate Palette. Here, I did multiple drawings and satisfied my craving for avocado.

Melaka: Calanthe Art Cafe. Django on the playlist, delicious coffee [from each of Malaysia's 13 states]. Runner Up: Harper's, mostly for the cold beer and prime location on the river. Major minus points for playlist, major plus points for frequent giant lizard [5'!!] sitings.

Georgetown, Penang: B@92. Guinness Extra Stout, good location, friendly staff.

Singapore: only here for two days, so didn't really find that perfect working place...

Perth: So far, Perth is the hardest nut to crack: $11/hour internet, lots of suburbs. But, I've found some good 'uns: Tiger Tiger [their use of avocado and egg alone wins me over...], and Shots on Lake in Northbridge, where I'm sitting right now...

Albany: Liberte. Edith Piaf on the speakers, melty swiss + olive sandwiches, breeze from the ocean, marble top tables and brass fittings. Perfect.

In a few days, it's back to Boston, and Sunday afternoons in Bates Hall at the Public Library....

*Note: This does not include bars, or restaurants, each of which would constitute a separate list of criteria and of hall-of-fame entries... 

They gave us crayons...LePlace, Hanoi, Vietnam.

Malaysian affogato, Calanthe Art Cafe, Melaka, Malaysia.

Southwest coast adventure: day 3.

Today started with a delicious breakfast of eggs and toast - still a bit of a novelty after months of various Asian breakfasts! Then, off to explore some old houses around Albany. I manage to get into the Old Farm at Strawberry Hill, even though it's "closed for maintenance" at the moment, and I nearly wreck the car several times as I keep slowing down and leaning out to take pictures of interesting houses. The resemblance of many of these small, vernacular houses to those in Falmouth is becoming more and more uncanny as I see more of them...

I end up exploring downtown Albany on foot. As a small former whaling town, the economy has shifted significantly over the past few decades - mostly to tourism. It's funny - as soon as I open my mouth, almost everyone asks, laughing, "What are you doing here?" I guess I am, clearly, a long way from home.

After nosing around town for most of the day, it's time for another kangaroo safari. This time, success! We spot a mob of them hanging out in a field, and we're treated to all aspects of kangaroo behavior: eating, walking, playing, rolling around in the grass, hopping, and best of all, boxing! [Apparently, male kangaroos box for fun, to establish pecking order, etc - it's pretty funny to watch, though I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of a kangaroo punch.]

Then, on to some beaches to spot for whales. No luck on the whales, but lots of beautiful scenery, and again, no one else around. Tomorrow we head back up the coast to Perth...land of the $11/hour wifi connection...

Old Farm at Strawberry Hill, c. late 19th c, Albany, Western Australia.

Albany, Western Australia, or Falmouth, Jamaica?!

Patrick Taylor Cottage, oldest house in WA [c. 1830s].

Mouchemore's Cottage, Albany, WA.

Reproduction of the Brig Amity, which brought the first load of convicts to Albany from the east coast in the 1830s.

ROOS! They're hopping, eating, playing, doing 'roo things. Outside Albany, WA.

'Roos!

Boxing 'roos! In the middle of the picture, the two males standing up and punching each other.

At Natural Bridge, outside Albany, WA.

Roo crossing! They were EVERYWHERE that night - just before I took this, three jumped across my path...

Southwest coast adventure, Day 2.

Today we left Margaret River, after having a delicious breakfast at a bakery in town [eggs benedict panino: genius!] We take a meandering drive down the coast, making our way to the Valley of the Giants: a forest with 400 year old tingle and karri trees, complete with a tree-top walk. The walk is pretty amazing, even if we're 40 meters above the ground and the walkway is swaying...it's a fascinating and beautiful way to experience a forest. The light and sound changes with every meter of ascent, as does the breeze, and of course, my comfort level. I'm not really afraid of heights, it's just that my legs know I'm not really supposed to be up that high. 

There is hardly anyone around at these sites, and I guess it's because it's wintertime - though that means it's 60 degrees instead of 90, so really, a nice change from the tropics. 

No 'roos today, though we see plenty of signs for "'roo crossing." Maybe tomorrow?

Farmhouses in Western Australia look eerily like houses in Falmouth, Jamaica...

Giant trees along the Bibbulmun Track, Wester Australia.

Treetop walk through the tingle forest, Western Australia.

In the canopy! Western Australia.

Back on the ground, looking up: tingle and karri trees, Western Australia.

Albany Wind Farm [or, why I can't go into politics].

Wind turbines powered by wind from the ocean, Albany wind farm, Western Australia.

Outside of Albany on the south coast of Australia, 12 massive turbines provide 75% of the town's power [not bad for a town of 35,000], and they stand in a  park, complete with boardwalks and an "art walk," where you can get up close and personal with the turbines. There are interpretive signs about the turbines, the local flora and fauna, and benches set up so you can gaze at the ocean or, on specially angled benches, up at the turbines themselves. The only sounds are the rustling of birds and animals, the light breeze, and the slicing of the turbines through the air. In only a 7 mph wind, the blades move at 80 mph...

I've often heard the argument against wind turbines that they are "ugly." Uglier than a coal plant, or mountaintop removal, or generations of miners afflicted with black lung? These turbines were in a park for goodness sake. Even standing directly under them, they barely whisper, and all I could smell was the sea air from the Indian Ocean. There is no such thing as an impact-free way to generate lots of electricity, but in my mind, this is pretty darn close. 

I've also heard the argument that the coal industry provides jobs, while a bunch of wind turbines doesn't. While I don't know what the exact numbers are on jobs provided by wind turbines, I can say from my work and research in West Virginia that the job numbers surrounding mining are greatly misunderstood. According to the 2000 census, only 4% of jobs in the state were mining and forestry related. The biggest job sector? Health care and services, at 25% of jobs statewide. The biggest culprit of getting rid of coal mining jobs are the mines themselves: with the massive draglines that open pit mines use, one man can now do the job previously done by hundreds.

I just saw [yet another] article about how possible presidential candidates don't believe in global warming. While these politicians bury their heads in the sand, no one has yet given a reasonable explanation why coal fired power plants are better than wind farms. With coal plants' [and their attendant infrastructures'] devastating impact on the environment and people's health, it's hard to imagine their advantage for anyone other than those in charge - and even for them, the gains are short term. To me, it's illogical, and flies in the face of collected and observable data. Power generated at the expense of mountains, forests, animals, and people's health? Um, no thanks. Power generated using a clean, ever-present source, that can be located in parks? Yes please! Think about the design possibilities, both in the urban and rural contexts, if our power generation was no longer a blight and a hazard, but a delight and a destination.

More info.

Wind turbine, Albany wind farm, Western Australia.

Trails through the Albany wind farm, Western Australia.

The wind turbines are positioned to take advantage of air currents coming off the Indian Ocean [in the background].

Me knocking on the door of a wind turbine, Albany, Western Australia.

Southwest coast adventure: Day 1.

So Perth doesn't have many old vernacular houses. When I drew my line around the world, I cheated a bit with Perth - my line actually goes through the ocean west of here. But, I wanted one more southern hemisphere site, and, without much prior research, chose Perth. Perth has, in its growth, gotten rid of most of its humble buildings, and I'm just not that interested in the fancy buildings, so I hopped in a car, and here I am on the south coast, in Albany, the oldest continuously occupied European settlement in Western Australia.

We stopped  in Margaret River, and visited an 1860s homestead, where I discovered a fascinating sandwich wall construction that collapses insulation and structure into one wall panel, using local materials. I'm wondering: where do British settlers learn these techniques? Apparently, the settlers themselves built the houses [there were no trained builders or architects, and the building techniques are pretty different from the local Aboriginal techniques], so I guess now I need to find out where they came from in England, and kind of architectural/cultural influence they had from locals. That would be the historian in me. The architect in me wants to know how/if it performs thermally. And, from my temperature readings I took onsite, it appears to: the inside ambient temperature was 5-8 degrees cooler than the outside ambient temperature. 

We visited the beach too - so beautiful! Most of southwest Australia's beaches are in national parks or protected areas, so there is no development and hardly anyone around. [Though that could have more to do with the fact that it's still winter around here...] There are boardwalks or paths that lead to the beaches, but it's mostly vegetation along the shores, and there are no "fake" beaches - so when a patch of sandy beach interrupts the mostly rocky shoreline, it's particularly special. The water is dark, dark blue and freezing - and there are lots of good waves for surfing. So, I guess I'll have to come back in the summertime...

Later, we saw our first kangaroos! They were hopping through a field, and they were too far away to get good pictures of. Plus, my reaction time is a bit slower, driving on the left and all...

Beach near Margaret River, Leeuwin-Naturaliste National Park, Western Australia.

Keeping a lookout for whales. Leeuwin-Naturaliste National Park, WA.

Rock formations on the beach, Leeuwin-Naturaliste National Park, WA.

My fabulous mother. Leeuwin-Naturaliste National Park, WA.

Beach grasses make marks in the sand as the wind blows. Leeuwin-Naturaliste National Park, WA.

Kangaroos!!

Emus!!

Ellensbrook house, c. 1850s/60s, outside Margaret River, WA.

Singapore.

Singapore was supposed to be a "rest stop" for me, between research stops, and turns out, there's a lot to see and do in Singapore...

I went in search of some of the older city fabric in Little India and Chinatown, which by now, looked familiar: shophouses! They are all painted bright colors, which seems to be more of a function of their new life as gentrified retail shops. In Little India though, which was a former British quarter, the bright colors are right at home with the Bollywood soundtrack blasting from shop windows, the piles of flower garlands, and the bolts upon bolts of bright, patterned cottons. 

We visited a few "bars at the tops of buildings with amazing views," including the gigantic Marina Sands [three towers with a boat shaped connecting piece at the top, with at least 50 restaurants in it] - and took in views of the city and the port, chock full of tankers and cargo ships. We also went to the famous Raffles Hotel, for a "Singapore Sling," invented here in 1915ish. All in all, Singapore is amazingly clean, expensive [$20 for a beer!], and safe, though walking down the famous Orchard Road, I was a bit disappointed. With its Louis Vuitton and Prada on every other corner, I could have been in any big city - that is, until I took notice of the number [and size!] of the street trees, or ducked down a small alley. I only hope that in Singapore's continued fancifying, it doesn't lose the things that make it a crazy crossroads of Asian and European culture. 

School of the Arts, Singapore.

Shophouses, Emerald Terrace, Singapore.

Two faces of Singapore: shophouse, and shopping mall. Orchard Road, Singapore.

Haji Street, Singapore.

Little India, Singapore.

Little India, Singapore.

Little India, Singapore.

Marina Sands, Singapore.

Taking in the view, top of Marina Sands, Singapore.

Villa Sentosa.

While in Melaka, I stopped by Villa Sentosa, in Kampung Morten, Melaka. This area was settled in 1920, when the British relocated people here from another part of the city slated for redevelopment. The houses here are traditional Malay houses, and I was fortunate enough to be led around Villa Sentosa by a family member. These houses place primary importance on ventilation, and through various openings, shutters, doors, and vents, keep the occupants cool. The ambient temperature when I visited [late afternoon] was a full 10 degrees cooler inside than outside. The houses are also raised above the ground, which, in addition to having various climatic advantages [ventilation, flood protection], provides a very useful work/laundry drying/storage space that's shaded and protected.

So now I'm wondering: how many of these techniques can be seen in the Dutch and British buildings, and what are the reasons these houses were [and are] still being built? Is it a matter of location [urban, commercial district, village, rural, etc?] And, of course, how well do they perform climatically? [Everyone draws those magic ventilation arrows...how is air really moving through the space?]

House in Kampung Morten, Melaka.

Visiting room, Villa Sentosa, Melaka.

Exterior of visiting room, Villa Sentosa, Melaka.

Interior, Villa Sentosa, Melaka.

Living room, looking into central "courtyard" and dining area beyond, Villa Sentosa, Melaka.

A Perfect Lunch.

 

Mango lassi and laksa!

Shophouses, or, the persistence of form.

Front room in a new shophouse, Hoi An, Vietnam.

Hoi An's "ancient houses" [meaning 18th and 19th century] are mostly shop houses - a shop or business on the ground floor opening onto the street, with living quarters behind and above. I saw a similar pattern in Hanoi with the tube houses, and found more recently in Kuala Lumpur, in Chinatown and Little India. What is interesting to me is that these forms [shop house, tube house] continue despite the disappearance [or evolution] or the original impetus for developing that form - especially in Vietnam.

For example, new vernacular houses in Hoi An seem to have the large, open front room opening onto the street, even when the house doesn't have any commercial activities on the premises. Walking down the street at night, I saw house after house with the lights on, TV blaring, and no one in these rooms. It was very strange. I could hear voices, but people seemed to be either in the back room, or in the upper rooms. It was as if the shop, which had historically occupied that space, had disappeared, but habitation patterns hadn't quite caught up yet.

The shop house, or tube house, form, though, also seemed to persist in suburban areas as well, where presumably there are no zoning/tax regulations [the impetus for tube houses in Hanoi] or historical precedent or commercial need on the site [the impetus for shop houses in Hoi An]. We saw these on our bike ride out of Hoi An to the beach, which was 3 miles outside of the town, and also on the plane flying out of Da Nang. New suburban homes were clustered together in the middle of rice fields, densely packed and at least three stories tall. Could it be a need/desire to preserve land for rice fields? Or is it, like the Mongolian ger, an architectural, formal [maybe even cultural] given? 

Unlike the ger, however, the "new vernacular shop house" no longer responds to the original factors that determined its form, because those factors have disappeared, or changed. This is why new vernacular architecture fascinates me. People build houses in a certain way because "that's what a house is" - its form and appearance are coded in spatial organization, color, trim details, and where the car [or motorbike] goes. That code, in turn, is deciphered using historical references filtered through cultural, economic, and societal definitions [rather than, perhaps, actual understandings of history]. I think this can lead to an unfortunate understanding of architecture as a series of eras marked by pat names [Victorian! Greek Revival!], but I think that in reality, it's much more complicated.

I'm more interested in deciphering patterns of occupation, or clues as to the dissemination of culture, building and climate mediation methods...and of course, the point at which the exigencies of climate outweigh the traditional imperative of culture: the moment of innovation in the evolution of form. 


I may have found one today, at 8 Heeren Street, Melaka. Not just the house itself, but the house + the place + some good conversations I've had over the past couple days with some very interesting people. Stay tuned. I have to anyway, since I don't know what it all means yet. 

Not a shophouse: Villa Santosa [c. 1920], Kampung Morten, Melaka, Malaysia.

My First Mosque.

While in KL, I went to Masjid Jamek - it seems a bit hard to believe I've made it this far into my life without visiting a mosque. I donned the provided robe and headscarf, and started exploring. It was very clear what areas were off limits to non-Muslims [so many signs!], but I appreciated that we were allowed to move around the space and take pictures, even as people were at their prayers inside.

Like a gothic or renaissance church, there was a clear separation between worshiper and visitor, with clear circulation patterns outlined for both - as I processed around the perimeter of the building, I could observe what was happening inside without disrupting it. Both create the separation of circulation using ceiling heights and columns: in the Christian churches, the side aisles' ceiling is lower then the central nave; at this mosque, the visitor's circulation path was not covered, whereas the prayer areas were. Similarly, the use of columns in both to create a permeable, yet clear boundary between uses is elegant and effective. Looks like I need to look more into mosque design to see if I'm just making all this up - ARH 101 was a long time ago...

I couldn't help but think, however, that the contemporary occupants of the mosque ought to rely more heavily on the clear architectural clues that the original designers and builders employed, rather than sullying the place up with a bunch of impermanent and shouting signs.

In any case, it was a much-needed respite from the city, complete with palm trees, fountains, and cool white marble - and my visit was only cut short by the fact that, in 100 degree heat, I was clad head to toe in polyester.

Mosque-ready attire.

Masjid Jamek, built in 1907, KL.

The building stands on a point of land where two rivers come together in KL. If ever there was a place of tranquility in this crazy city, this would be one of them.