In this article, I will attempt to illustrate some permaculture design concepts through an enemies-to-lovers romantic comedy set on a Mediterranean island. Eat Pray Homestead?
The multilingual Faraway came out on Netflix in March, the kind of charming European film that you would have had to seek out on a limited run in a smaller, independent theater in a pre-Netflix world.
It’s a funny film for grownups starring Naomi Krauss as Zeynep, and how she handles some of the big challenges of midlife.
We meet her as she’s dealing with her mother’s death and the various resentments that have built up among the rest of her family. She learns her mother left her some real estate in Croatia, and in frustration, she drives south from Germany to claim the property and change her life – or at least get a change of scenery.
Her inheritance turns out to be an old stone barn on a small island off the coast – and not much else. The barn had been converted into a modest house decades earlier, and when she arrives, the last owner is still in residence. Hijinks ensue.
In contrast to her northern city life, this is country living, and on an island – reachable only by boat. The slower, simpler ways of doing things that she (readily) adjusts to are where we find the concepts we can borrow to design a connected, regenerative lifestyle.
Self-care
When people first learn about permaculture practices, they tend to focus on its application in big-acreage agriculture or organic gardening, and often don’t put as much intention into systems design on a smaller, perhaps more subtle, scale that is accessible to anyone – that is, self-care, mental and physical health, and daily life at home and work. In permaculture’s zone analysis, this is the starting point, Zone 0, where you have the greatest ability to make changes.
I would like to point out that Zeynep’s snap decision to drive down to the Mediterranean coast was her first intentional act of lifestyle design—removing herself from a really stressful scenario and going to check out the resources newly available to her.
On a more concrete level, once she arrives, with a deep sunburn from the ferry ride, Josip- the male lead- offers her a homemade skin salve. And while herbalism is maybe the top target of permaculture parody, if you’ve ever gotten muscle or joint relief from a CBD-infused lotion, you know it’s a good idea to have access to traditional plant-based remedies. Even aspirin is derived from willow trees.
Home Design
Moving outward in our zones of influence, the home and daily life is the next sphere where we have lots of say – our Zone 1, in permaculture analysis. Of course, this area of life takes a bit more resources to maintain, and we start to run into more constraints such as local regulations and relationships with neighbors.
Early on in Zeynep’s southern sojourn, she finds some traditional features of the stone cottage that are not what she’s used to in her German city life, but they meet her needs nevertheless.
The root cellar, accessed from a door in the kitchen floor, is an example of zero-energy food storage, using the constant cool temperature below ground-level. Of course, it’s been fully stocked by Josip, the previous resident, who has dried and canned the harvest from his garden, chickens, and goats.
The bucket shower is a big adjustment for someone accustomed to instant hot water and constant pressure. But in a time of rapidly changing water access, nothing will get you to appreciate fresh water like having to haul it in buckets for your everyday needs.
Finally, let’s talk about the stone cottage itself. For a south-facing location like much of the Croatian shoreline, stone is an ideal material, and not only because it is locally abundant. Stone construction creates thermal mass, as I mentioned in a recent video on Instagram, absorbing the heat of the sun during the day, and slowly dissipating it into the interior overnight.
Adding a stone patio in front of the house adds to the mass of the house for greater effect, and also creates a warm micro-climate for a container garden, for example.
To mitigate the heat and light of the sun in the height of a Mediterranean summer, the cottage has a timber arbor over the entrance patio, and it’s covered with a lovely flowering vine. It’s beautiful, probably smells amazing, and cools the house by blocking the sun during summer afternoons. In the winter, the vine loses its leaves and lets the sun through again. In northern climates, we can create this effect with carefully placed deciduous trees.
The cottage interior is quite dark, in spite of some breeze block panels, and this becomes a bit of a running joke. Right away, Zeynep wants to knock out a wall because “I need bright and shiny!” and a long wait for a window from the mainland ensues. Josip unsuccessfully tries to convince her that a big south-facing window will make the house unbearably hot.
Luckily, modern window technology can mitigate that heat transference – and she could extend the arbor over the new window as well. Alternatively, a north-facing window would bring in light without the heat, although it wouldn’t offer the amazing ocean views. Design is all about carefully weighing those trade-offs.
Community Connection
Finally, at least in the course of our time with Zeynep and Josip, we can look at considerations in Zone 2, the local community. One of Zeynep’s first tasks on the island is acquiring a bicycle – and we later see her traversing the country lanes as well as the village by bike. Many of us use bike transport on a coastal vacation as a matter of course – on an island, fuel costs are high, and parking is scarce and expensive. Back home, we get back in the habit of car transport, even for short trips—yet gas is still pricey, and parking is problematic…
Along with adopting a low-tech, zero-emissions mode of transport, Zeynep adopts a diet of local food and wine. On an island, this is in part a necessity. But I would also argue, at this stage in the climate crisis, a 100-mile diet is a necessity for us all. Having experienced the food and hygiene shortages in Connecticut early in the pandemic, and learning we currently produce less than 5% of the food our state needs, we can’t do enough to dedicate more of our purchasing power to develop local food production.
An important part of community considerations is cultivating friendships and enjoying local entertainment – especially traditional arts and culture. One of the most beautiful moments of the film is when the local klapa singers have an impromptu concert on the cliffs near Zeynep’s cottage. Prepare for chills.
Permaculture Faux Pas
There were two major areas where Zeynep’s cottage could use some urgent attention: electricity, and water access.
Her late mother overlooked a serious consideration when she arranged the purchase of the house: securing a water source. Josip kept some of the land when he sold the house, and the only well on site is on his property. Water access is not always as straightforward as a municipal connection, and Josip is a decent guy willing to share, but you shouldn’t have to fall in love with your neighbor for fresh water. (In fact, this was a big contributing factor to the failure of an intentional community being developed in Connecticut…)
Likewise, access to electricity is a big consideration for Zeynep’s new property. We see her struggling with the light switch soon after her arrival, and watch as the small rooftop wind-powered generator halts when the breeze dies down. Luckily, her location has abundant sun and an ocean breeze, so setting up a photovoltaic system and/or a small wind turbine, with battery storage, will have her electricity needs easily covered. And she would likely produced extra power, which could be a small source of income for her.
I’m sure no one involved in the production of Faraway intended for it to be a case study on permaculture design principles. And nothing I’ve pointed out as an example is specific to Croatia or the Mediterranean – the practice of permaculture is just a distillation of traditional practices from around the world. In this case, I’ve looked intimately at a converted stone barn in a seemingly idyllic village on an island. But I hope it has sparked some curiosity if you’re reading this in temperate, overdeveloped Connecticut, or elsewhere in the world.
While the Mediterranean coast might be one of the ideal locations to implement regenerative design principles for home, garden, and daily lifestyle habits, I’ve used over a thousand words here to try to breakdown the concepts that I believe can be implemented anywhere. Permaculture design can seem overly technical, or conversely too nebulous. But at its heart, it’s really just about making intentional choices in planning our homes and living our lives, choices that remain true to values of personal wellness, community care, and ecological regeneration. “Earth care, people care, fair share,” as we say.
If you’d like to learn more about implementing regenerative considerations at your home, please reach out for more information about my offerings, locally or internationally. Just tap Contact on my home page.
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