A glimpse of Papio-REI

Warning: this post is as serious as a heart attack. We are talking retirement planning. Yes, really. Retirement is around the corner. 60 will happen faster than I'll like it and nobody will be there to take care of me, not the state, not my kids. If I'm lucky, little feet, now 3, will be about to enter university when I turn 60. So... For when I want to slow down (or new software stop amusing me and I start losing more and more battles on the scarily huge field of self-actualisation, lifelong training and whatnot), I need something that will generate sure  money without much input from me and that is, I think, real estate.

If you are building to rent, efficiency is the word. Better build 3 small units than one large: if one is empty, the other two may be rented out and you are not putting all your eggs in the same basket. That's my credo. Now, I have to come up with some plan that will look good, be reproducible, and allow you to cram as many units as possible on any given plot without looking cramped or cheap.

One type of housing I've always admired is the terraced house in London, UK. Thanks to the Internet and many excellent real estate agents' websites, I've come up with a plan that I find completely suitable:

I still need to tweak a few things (including exchanging my plot for another one, which was not available when I bought it, but is now), but I think this will serve my purpose perfectly.

Now, all that remains to be done, is to generate the funds and start building!

Emergency building

While we were getting used to the new house and playing around with the ideal protection for our stone floor, a real emergency happened: I now have a 3-year old girl, and a visual artist partner. And the partner is due to exhibit in a few months, preferably sans the 3-year old's contribution. Meaning, her finger-painting on the said partner's completed works is _not_ welcome. At all.

So... We are in urgent need of outside storage for the completed works and also for the work-in-progress. And, we need a guest room. Finance is limited, and ideally we'd rather have waited a few months more, but the risk of more works being spoiled by an unruly, opinionated, stubborn child is too high.

Back to the drawing board, then, for the ideal visitors' bungalow. (We are only expecting our first visitor in October at best, and the exhibition is in September, so the visitor won't have to sleep among the stretchers.)

One technique we've been gathering information about is compressed stabilised earth blocks. A friend of mine in Senegal has a house currently being finished using this material. The artisan uses 98% laterite and 2% cement blocks. What I've read elsewhere is closer to a 95/5 or 90/10 ratio, but I'm willing to learn. With such a low cement content, compression is key. Fortunately, I was able to trace a block-making machine that would fit the bill. It's local, and it's proved its efficiency.

If the Senegalese builder is right, and this technique will indeed halve the cost of building, we might just be able to do more than just a shack for the paintings, and get the guest room ready earlier than expected. The plan is simple; small, efficient, no space or materials wasted. What we have in mind is something like this:

The most important aspect is that we are back to the wrap-around porch idea, this time a full wrap-around: the first building's porch covers only two sides, but I regret sacrificing the east side, which gets quite a lot of rain. Experience shows that only the north side doesn't really need it. Besides, since we've moved in, we practically live on the porch, and consider it a very useful and pleasant addition to any house.

So... drafting, drawing, counting, calculating... We are back to all this fun, and more!

My shack in an orchard

Did I tell you I'm getting ready to move? I know I did. After 11 years living in big houses, really too big for my needs, discouragingly so when it comes to sweeping, mopping, dusting, cleaning, etc., I've decided to downsize. Not because it's fashionable, but because it's really the only thing that makes sense to me right now and in the foreseeable future.

Kids are gone, and this -my 21st move- will be handled as if it were to be my last move. Among other things, it means that I need a place that is designed so that I will feel comfortable living in it, and maintaining it, growing older. Space will be outdoors: I intend to have a netted wraparound porch and, of course, the land itself is spacious. Indoors, it will be functional, with an emphasis on what really matters to me (the kitchen, mainly), rather than on conforming to an off-the-shelf, one-size-fits-all plan which, even if socially "right", won't feel comfortable to me. The experience acquired with my 20 previous moves, and apartments/houses, taught me what works, and what doesn't, with me. I'm therefore not only a highly experimented mover, but also what you could call a highly experimented dweller: I've lived in so many places, and I know exactly what I liked, or didn't like, in each of them.

Having lived in Paris, France, for 13 years, I know a lot about small lodgings. I won't go to that extreme, but I will make good use of space-saving tips and tricks learned in Europe. My (for now) final plan is an 80sq m/861sq ft abode, with the kitchen/dining area taking up about one third of the total. I'm not saying that's how a house should be. It's what works for me.

Here is the plan I came up with, after much pondering:

It is a bit coarse, it was my first time using this little free software (Sweet home 3D) but it gives a general idea of what I think I'll be comfortable with.

Interestingly enough, from the time I started drawing the plan to the point where I felt satisfied with what I had, I'd downsized from a 2-bedroom to an all-in-one room plan. No frustration involved. I rather felt right; free; on the way to an uncluttered life and environment. Downsizing can be enjoyable!