This is the country of the Larrakia people, and it has become my home too, at least for now. A place that is becoming familiar, that welcomes me back after my trips across the Top End, and where I grow herbs and watch plants flourish in my garden when the rains come.

I’ve been reflecting on my blog and the stories I share. Holiday travel makes for great social media, and this sharing can be a way to seek affirmation that our lives are interesting and valuable. Yet travel, for most of us, occupies just a small portion of our time. The challenge is to find contentment, meaning and the odd moments of pure joy in the mundane business of every day living. Sometimes I struggle with this. And so this story is about my place, and the things that make me smile in my every day.

Known as Gurambai by the Larakia people, this place, my home, gained the prosaic name of Rapid Creek in 1869 as part of the Northern Territory Survey Expedition. Keen to spread the Lord’s word, the German Jesuits established a mission here in 1882.  Covering  320 acres, the mission extended from Rapid Creek to Shoal Bay, with a large banyan tree at the NE boundary almost a quarter acre in size. Relationships with the local Larrakia and Woolna people were however fraught at times (more here), and Fr. Conrath sadly reflected that the mission ‘had a miserable existence, from its beginning to its end’ in 1891. After the mission and before the Japanese bombed Darwin in 1942, Rapid Creek was a popular picnic and day trip area. By the 1950s, Nightcliff had grown as a seaside suburb, and residential development expanded into Rapid Creek during the 1960s.

I live here because it’s close to the sea, the pool, the markets.  Let’s go exploring together.

A short walk from my place to the yellow bridge crossing Rapid Creek.  Walking north across the bridge takes you along Casuarina beach and up to the surf club and university. South along the foreshore takes you to the pool and jetty

Gazing down the creek for a moment: popular with frolicking dogs and fishers, but treacherous in the wet when the rains come and the salties are on the move.

Riding the surf at the mouth of Rapid Creek, January 2018 (thanks ABC Darwin)

The foreshore footpath runs for about 7km from Rapid Creek all the way down to the mangroves past the Nightcliff jetty. Just past the playground is the woodfired pizza pop-up, complete with tables covered in red checked cloths and fairy lights. A great place to enjoy a picnic as the sun goes down.

Pizza under the stars

Windsurfers point – the place to kitesurf when the breeze is up

I sit engrossed in the sunset, but hearing music, look up to see X flash by on his bike.

A well-known figure along the foreshore, cruising along with music pouring out of his beat box, sulphur-crested cockatoo perched on his shoulder and today a little dog in the front basket. His bike displays signs urging no violence against women and children, love not war and other messages of harmony. Today he’s stopped to talk, so I surreptiously take a photo, a little shy to join the conversation. This means, of course, that I’m none the wiser about his story, but I’ve heard he used to be a ship’s captain, and is from Timor. A little further along he stops at the playground and his cockatoo enjoys a swing.

Round the point and we come to Dariba Nunggalinga ‘Old Man Rock’, a registered sacred site. Visible in the sea at low tide, this is believed to be the final resting place of the first Larrakeyah man. Nunggalinga is responsible for earthquakes, storms and cyclones – events provoked by human actions or failures. Surprising, really, that Darwin experiences so few cyclones! I have been woken here by a trembling bed and rattling glass as earthquakes in Indonesia shuddered deep in the earth.

Old Man Rock is off in this direction, a bit further out to sea

As I walk there are people riding bikes, strolling and having picnics all along the foreshore, enjoying the evening breeze and sunset. Early mornings see keen walkers and runners, wearing daringly brief shorts, comfortable t’shirts or a sari, depending on their style and country of origin. Many are regulars, although they’re less familiar to me as my morning walks have recently tailed off, precious sleep taking precedence over all else (I’m a chronic insomniac!). Country men and women enjoy the shady trees and camp here at night. Pop-up food vans are scattered along the foreshore in the dry, and it’s a great venue for the annual Seabreeze Festival.

Next is the pool – one of my favourite spots. No Sunday afternoon is complete without a swim, and if I find myself there a little later I can lap and watch the sky streaked with orange and pink as the sun sets over the sea. My only complaint is the water temperature, which is steadily rising. In March when Cyclone Marcus tore through and shredded the shade cloth, the water rose to 33 degrees. No-one likes to swim in a bath.

At this point we’ll turn round, and leave the jetty for another day. It’s just a jetty, after all – but popular for fishing. Further south is my gym, where I twirl, crunch and pump in an effort to stay flexible, strong and healthy. Turning north, we’ll join the dogs walking up the beach to  Casuarina surf club. With music in the dry season, it’s the perfect place for a sunset drink.

Local markets are another favourite part of my ‘hood. My first stop on Sunday morning is Rapid Creek market, a largely Asian market. Strange nobbly and exotic fruits; green leafy things I have no idea what to do with; flowers; massage and many cooked foods. I can buy fresh galangal, lime leaves, ginger, chilli’s and lemongrass to whip up a beef rendang from scratch – so lucky! I often pop to Nightcliff markets next, more of a mixed market, for fresh bread.

Fresh pawpaw, strange leafy greens and Asian sweet delights – I chuckled to see that the seller’s distinctive hat is carefully wrapped in plastic

Freshly made temp, with a uniquely NT touch

Christina sells me flowers every week, and is happy to reuse the rubber bands I bring back

Freshly-made tempe with a special NT message / Christina sells me flowers every week, without plastic, and is happy to accept the rubber bands I recycle back to her

Finally I wander home, entering the cool tunnel of palms that leads to my place. Charlie, a lean tabby tom who lives at #3 is there to greet me and pads along behind, ready for a pat and a mid-morning snack. We’ve come to a mutually agreeable arrangement, although I suspect he gets the better end of the deal.

I love the green, tropical lushness of this place, my new home. On a recent visit back to Canberra – home for 14 years – I noticed how drab the landscape seemed, colours muted greys and greens. Again it felt known, familiar but also – dare I say – a little bland and boring. Perhaps this place will hold me captive a little longer.