Ever wonder how the beautiful silhouette scenes of Africa make it on to fabric?
We did and, as part of our Discover Corps experience in Tanzania, we learned the secret. We even got to try our hand at making our own.
The method is called batik and the process uses colorful dyes — controlled by applying wax to cloth — to create the images.
The idea of the our endeavor was to (hopefully) bring out our artistic qualities.
As we began they seemed to be fairly well concealed, but the group of artists who came to visit us at our homebase were as patient as they were talented, and coaxed us into making bold attempts.
We were each issued a piece of fabric and a pencil to begin our endeavors.
The idea was to sketch a picture that would then be dyed into the material.
Looking around the table we noticed many diligent, yet somewhat pained expressions on the faces of our Discover Corps mates.
Many of us were unknowingly doing the classic tongue-sticking-out-of-the-side-of our-mouth and slightly-bitten look of a kid really bearing down on something.
Once we managed to draw something loosely resembling a picture, wax was applied to all areas that would remain white.
The wax acts as a shield so, when dye is applied, the colors wouldn’t affect the waxed portions.
Once the wax hardened, the staining process began.
Wanting a sunset silhouette, we chose vivid colors of red and yellow — to blend into the brilliant oranges of sundown — and the dyes were applied to the entire cloth.
After the background was laid down, the fabric was dried over a charcoal fire.
Once dried, more wax could be applied to the entire cloth – minus the areas that would ultimately be black. So our happy little tree was left unwaxed.
This enabled our tribe of less-than-precise artists to color the waxless areas without the worry of the dye going all willy-nilly.
Brilliant!
We painted in the black dye with a tiny brush to the proper areas, and, upon completion, the drying process was repeated.
To remove the wax, we simply rubbed the fabric against itself vigorously.
In Tanzania, nothing is wasted; the wax that fell from our masterpieces was gathered and returned to the melting pot to be used again.
We then ran a hot iron over our cloth to melt away any remnants.
Viola! We had our masterpieces.
Actually, many members of our group made very impressive scenes, however David’s elephant’s head came out looking more like a cassowary than a pachyderm.
On the other hand, Veronica managed a rather clever adaptation, an African version of the cover of our book, Going Gypsy: One Couple’s Adventure from Empty Nest to No Nest at All.
David & Veronica, GypsyNester.com
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A big thank you to Discover Corps for providing this artsy experience! As always, all opinions are our own.
After receiving our own earfuls on several subjects from the current crop of orators, we moved on toward Kensington Gardens and the palace of the same name, but there was more to see before we could get there.
One building mostly spared by the fire is All Hallows-by-the-Tower, acclaimed as the oldest church in London. Established in 675, the church was built on the site of a Roman building. We know this because some remnants remain in the crypt.
For nearly two hundred years those sovereigns have moved into Buckingham Palace after ascending to the throne. That meant we might have caught a glimpse of Queen Elizabeth, or one of her sons, Princes Andrew and Edward, who also live in the palace, but no such luck for us.
The culmination was the album they named after the street. From then on the studio itself became known as Abbey Road. It was a little underwhelming to visit, we were only able to peer through the gates, still we couldn’t help but feel privileged by our proximity to the spot where some of the greatest music ever recorded was captured.
The stretch along the bay ran over and through large sand dunes that have been covered with grassy growth so that the seemingly solid ground beneath our feet was actually continually shifting.
Before long we came to the enduring little Saint Enodoc Church. This stone chapel became known as Sinking Neddy because it looks as though it has sunk into the ground. But looks can be deceiving, actually it has been battling the relentless encroachment of the dunes that have continually conspired to cover it for nearly nine centuries.
We have always been fascinated with cemeteries, the older the better, and St. Enodoc’s was mesmerizing. Not only for the markers, some of which date back to the sixteen hundreds, but for the scenic placement overlooking the bay.
Another interesting feature of the church, which was new to us but that we would encounter many more times again on this trip, was the lychgate we passed through to enter the yard.
Leaving the flora and fauna behind we returned to human habitat in the pastoral village of Pityme. The name is said to come from a tragic tale of loss at sea.
Entering the town along the beach we could see some of the namesake stones along the shoreline, even with the tide rising rapidly. Clearly, we didn’t have time to dawdle or we would be the ones asking for pity while we washed away to sea.
As we set out through the outskirts of 
History came alive as we climbed up to Richard the Lionheart’s Château Gaillard built in 1196, stood where Joan of Arc was burned at the stake, and rode right through the center of the D-day invasion at Omaha Beach.
We even had the energy left to climb 396 steps up to the top of the tower at Château de La Roche Guyon, where Field Marshal Rommel commanded the Axis forces as they fought to hold off the allied invasion.
By the time we made it to the garden that inspired many of Monet’s most notable paintings, and Vincent van Gogh’s last home just outside of Paris, we were firm believers in assisted living, or should we say pedaling.
Another cool feature of the system that we grew to seriously appreciate was the ability to use the charging mode as a braking device on downhill stretches.
The next day found us crossing the bay to the town of 
As Padstow disappeared behind us, we came to a Celtic Cross overlooking the city. This was erected as a monument to the soldiers lost in The Great War, or what became known later as World War I. The poignant tribute stands in a beautiful setting, and we learned as we traveled across Cornwall that nearly every town has one.
The crew of NCI Stepper Point Lookout Station was glad to explain their mission of watching over the entrance to the Camel estuary and the port of Padstow and, perhaps most importantly, keeping an eye on the notorious Doom Bar. This sandbar that blocks the entrance at low tide has caused over six hundred vessels to wreck or run aground so a close watch is of primary importance.
No matter the folklore, navigation has been tricky in these parts for quite a while, as evidenced by the stone tower near the coast guard station. Known simply as the Daymark, this navigation tower was built centuries ago to help guide ships around this treacherous point. It was originally lime-washed white to make it visible out to sea, but most of that has long since faded away.
This characteristic is why this coastline is so craggy and, in the case at Gunver, the crashing surf has created sharp peaks that stand like sentries along the shore.
In Cornwall the classic British afternoon ritual is called cream tea, because clotted cream is a star of the show. This butter-like whipped cream is liberally laid out on scones that are lighter than most, in fact they reminded us of good ole southern biscuits.
The steep coastline gave way to a sandy beach at Harlyn Bay while the sky once again took on an ominous tone. The threatening skies didn’t discourage the handful of surfers and small crowd of beachcombers though, still we made the call to proceed on to our final destination by bus.
Entering on the high road, for a better view, we came to the first of many encounters we would have with the works of Barbara Hepworth. Her bronze sculpture, Epidauros II, adorns the Malakoff overlooking the harbor, so we stopped for a look at both the art and the panorama.
Heading down to the waterfront, we made the church dedicated to St. Ia our first stop. The church was built during the reign of King Henry V from 1410 and 1434 as a 
Leaving Saint Ia’s we made a loop around the town, beginning and ending at the waterfront. Among the myriad of shops, inns, and restaurants along the water, The Sloop Inn stood out. Dating back to 1312, this classic fisherman’s pub lays claim to being one of the oldest inns in Cornwall.
From there we walked along the coast of what the locals refer to as The Island, but it is really a peninsula. The point is crowned by the St Nicholas Chapel, which is thought to predate St. Ia’s, but no records survive giving the history of the old stone church. What is known is that it was often used to keep watch for smugglers and for storage by the War Office over the.
Our circular route took us onward to Porthmeor Beach along the way to the Tate Gallery. As a hub for artists form more than a century, St Ives seemed the perfect location for second of the Tate’s regional galleries. Opening in 1993, now nearly half a million people visit each year.
A few blocks through the narrow streets we stopped off for one more encounter with Barbara Hepworth’s work at her Museum and Sculpture Garden.
Tailor-Made Itineraries
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