Slow Beam
4 Days in Nipaluna, Tasmania
If you’ve ever wanted to feel like you were slow living out in the bush and yet were right in the thick of it all, let me introduce you to Slow Beam.
For almost 2 years now, I’ve had an ongoing manifestation list that is full of very specific items. Every 6 months or so, I do a stocktake to see what I can cross off and what I’m adding for the next 6 months. Slow Beam (amongst many others) has been on this list since its inception, so you can imagine the feeling washing over me as I scanned my boarding pass, hopping on a flight to Hobart, knowing I’ll be walking through those very doors in T-minus 2 hours.
I won’t lie, when the car hit the top of the steep driveway I looked up at the house, dark boxy-ness with larger-than-life windows draped with perfectly sheer, floor-to-ceiling fabric blinds. I squealed. Is this genuinely my life? I’ve taken a week off work, left my business, home, dog, car, routine behind to jump on a flight to Tassie and experience yet another item from my manifest list!?
When I opened the doors and saw just how much space I was granted for little old me and I squealed, again. The most perfect, extra large, cement/marble/metal/stone kitchen, a fireplace, a lounge room so full of character and comfort, and a bedroom/bathroom combo fit for a modern-day queen.
When I find myself in a space like this, I can’t help but be humbled by my own flashbacks from my hostel days, backpacking through dorms, getting bed bugs and having ridiculously rogue sex with random fellow backpackers on the bottom bunk whilst everyone else pretends not to listen.
To me, it’s all in the details though. The way the large enveloping bath is placed behind a large window directly facing private bushland. The bedroom having an immense amount of floor space to lay down and spread out as the sun sets and rises directly into the space, flooding the room with natural light through the - what feels like - infinity windows. The bed linen is heaven. The pillows are soft and yet firm. The view of the water peeking in between the tree tops you’re nestled amongst, as you lay in bed sipping the morning coffee that you made downstairs in the Alessi coffee pot. Everything is beautiful, from the pepper grinder to the fancy fridge inside the drawers (!!!) to the plush, fun carpet, the bath, the green steps, the low lighting dotted around the home, to the fully charged UE Boom, and the picnic rug and beach towels. The TV with Netflix and the kitchen equipped with every utensil you need to make a lavish dinner for one or two or 6.
Now typically Tassie, in my mind, is the place of cosy because it’s always so damn cold. As a sun-chasing baddie, I struggle to find reasons to spend time and money on travelling to colder places, but something about staying at Slow Beam eradicated any ill feelings I had toward colder places. I was excited to be here, but, most of the days I spent in Nipaluna were hot enough for ocean dips, water hole swims and singlet-sporting hikes! But, I refused to leave the fireplace unused and lonely, and partly because I love to flex my fire making abilities, even if to myself.
There are a lot of corners in Slow Beam that exist to make you think, how the fuck am I living any other life than this, right here? Take the above for example. The first morning I woke, I rushed downstairs to see if the sun was hitting that exquisite lounge/reading chair as it was the bedroom. I put on a pot of coffee and lay naked, amongst the treetops, writing my morning pages, listening to nothing else but the birds cheering me on (also potentially perving).
Every draw I opened, exposed another chest of treasure which left me drooling with inspo for the very home I know I will inhabit someday. From the Japanese forks, to the raw feel ceramic mugs, the miss-matched wine glasses and incredible ceramic plates and bowls. How can life not feel like a movie when every corner is just so… dreamy?!
Now, if you’ve been keeping up, you’ll know that bathing is a big part of my life and a prerequisite to any space I reside in. Recently, that ritual has flowed into my holiday prerequisites. How we spend time in space is important, well, I think. The entire purpose for this weekend was to do less, and then, even less again. To achieve this, I needed the right tools: a space conducive to slowness, bursting with reasons to feel inspired. Think of it like this, if I wanted an adventure-packed holiday, I’d focus on what gear I’d need and less on the place I would be resting my head. This holiday though, I wanted to move at snail pace and leave the house as little as possible.
I wasted no time in this kitchen. Within the first 30 minutes of my arrival, the pan was hot with oil, pasta was boiling in the pot, and I’d sniffed out the micro plane ready to get down and dirty with the block of parmesan. Cooking is one of my love languages, which is why I cook for myself every meal of every day. Self-love isn’t always face masks and pedicures.
And because I am hard-wired to have some sort of soundtrack playing at all times, I often mark a special experience, place, or time in space with a playlist to come back to whenever I need to be flooded with nostalgia and memories.