All preconceptions went out the window yesterday when our son Zissou had a brunch to unveil the new home he’s built in Bali. Well, no windows actually – and no walls come to that – just two all-bamboo structures with grass roofs built by seventeen craftsmen in twelve weeks – planning permission waved through as it has no foundations and can be moved when the long lease expires.
Both structures have living areas with hidden uplighting in the bamboo beams  - one with a bamboo kitchen, the other with a bed, hammock, and adjoining open air bathroom. The furniture was built from 4.30 pm the previous day and delivered in time for the first guests at 11am, though you’d never guess it from the workmanship of his six-seat settee you lie on, looking out through coconut palms at the terraced paddy fields half a mile away.
But the show-stopping, jaw-dropping moment comes when you walk to the end of his lawn and find yourself on the edge of a vertical cliff looking down at a tropical canyon with an ox-bow whitewater river 100 metres below your feet. Clinging to a coconut palm at the very edge eased my vertigo until advised not to stand beneath it util he’d had the remaining nuts netted for safety.
I say ‘remaining’ as each of the thirty guests was given one – their first drink to go with the exotic food served on banana leaves. He has an eclectic circle that includes a Venezuelan architect, a male American app. creator and musician called Beryl, a Japanese film-maker whose documentary on Happiness opens next week, a Czech/German glass artist, a Russian former PA to Berezovsky, a Singaporean manager of Como Shambala’s spa with her partner who handles Indonesian pop groups, a British girl surfer mastering in coral reef pollution and an Australian sunglass designer, the remainder being mainly Italian clothes designers.
As Zissou slept there for the first time last night, we called this morning for news of any nocturnal wildlife; he reported being woken at 3 am during a tropical storm by water splashing on his face and was certain his roofing team had blundered till he realised the water was boiling – the hot tap washer had blown in the adjoining bathroom, water pressure had fired the tap to the ground and he was being soaked by a ten-foot spray. I said a light blanching was a small price to pay for going native, though we may have second thoughts when we stay there for two nights later next week.