the invisible cookbook

3 weeks ago we packed our lives into the back of the car and headed north, straight through the guts of Australia. Into each horizon, one after the next, through orange dust, a heavy car holding our breaths, anticipation for what was ahead.

Well north of Alice Springs, we watched the red earth begin to break with fluorescent green and a sticky humidity.

Why move to Darwin? People seem to ask. We can only shrug our shoulders. This place where fans spin, and rain pours dinner plate drops, and the air sticks amphibian to our skin. We have a house with louvered windows from ceiling to floor, no oven, a resident green tree frog, no hot water, an abundance of tropical fruit trees, and no jobs. Time moves differently, it is slower, but the days pass more quickly. Tomatoes and zucchinis can only be grown in winter and the exotic fruit is strange like echinoderms.

Perhaps I’m here for the green pawpaw salads; a slower pace; a new experience; the perfect job; tomatoes in winter; echinoderm fruit. Perhaps it’s the reminder of another Australia; or maybe its for the geographic nearness to the rest of the world.