Alstonville is our world

The Rangoon Climber

When we first imagined the courtyard at Manava, the purpose was crystal clear.

We wanted a space where people could come, ground themselves on soft green grass, and be held by lush tropical plants — a living sanctuary in the middle of Alstonville.

And that’s exactly what now exists.

But what most people don’t realise is that every single plant in Manava has a story.

I won’t share the stories of them all — not today —

but there is one plant I want to tell you about.

The Rangoon Climber.

Here it is in the photo — the vine with bold, pink and red flowers, the kind that perfumes the air so gently you almost don’t notice yourself inhaling it. Or you may have noticed it lovingly placed on your towel before a massage or sauna or near your water in the sauna.

This plant is deeply connected to why Manava carries its name, and why this space means more than just “a nice garden at the gym.”

When I went looking for this plant, I searched everywhere.

Every nursery. Every grower.

Most people said the same thing:

“It won’t grow here.”

“Wrong climate.”

“No point trying.”

But I wasn’t taking no.

Because for me, the Rangoon Climber was more than a plant — it is a memory.

There is a very special photo — the second photo (it is the only picture I have of my dad and I) ever taken of me with both of my parents and brother (no.8 child).

In it, I’m leaning against my mother, my hand over my heart, smiling in that innocent way only kids can.

And behind us?

A massive Rangoon Climber, fully wrapped around our family home in Tonga — so big, so alive, you could smell it before you saw it.

Sweet.

Exotic.

Mesmerising.

That word — mesmerising — anchors me back to that child:

carefree,

safe,

nestled in love,

the youngest of nine,

a miracle baby who surprised everyone, including my mum and dad.

Some nights, I sit alone in Manava.

I watch the climber move gently in the breeze and breathe in that same perfume.

And in that quiet, I speak to my parents.

I thank them for the selfless act of leaving me in Australia so I could have a better life.

That scent connects me back to them — to home, to culture, to love, to strength.

That is why Manava exists.

Because Manava isn’t just a name.

In the Pacific, Manava means strength.

In Tongan, it means Breathe.

Here at Edge, Manava means:

“Come sit. Be still. Listen.

Your body will tell you what it needs to heal.”

So if you find yourself in the garden one day — alone or after a workout —

sit in silence for a moment.

Let the perfume of the Rangoon climber wrap around you.

Let it speak to “your” memories, your heart, your past.

Let it open you up.

Let it soften you.

Let it remind you that you too are a miracle —

and that you are, truly, fxxing amazing.**

Our little green space in the heart of Alstonville isn’t just a courtyard.

It’s a sacred green space.

A place to meet, to work, to reset, to breathe… and to heal.

This is just one plant’s story.

There are many more growing quietly waiting for their story to be told.

I thought I’d tell this story first so you know what the intention of this space is all about. This climber is the first plant to greet you at the entry.

With love.