Goin Green bananas

As part of my new year resolution to consolidate my blogs, for the first post of 2008, I present here a little story of how a crazy kid went green bananas... enjoy!

Funny how life moves in cycles. About 15 years ago I started a little eco company in Singapore called Green Bananas that made a paper making kit for people to recycle their own paper at home. Green because I wanted people to know it's environmental bent but more likely because I was totally green to the cutthroat world of business and Bananas because everyone thought I was crazy to give up a good and stable job for what? An unlikely little paper making kit that may not even have a market.

We did sell about 1,000 kits during the 2 or so years the little Green Bananas was out there doing paper making demos; giving magazine, TV & paper interviews encouraging people to start recycling paper in their own homes (in those days, Singapore had no recycling system for anything.


Things have changed now though) and even holding a handmade paper art exhibition called, you guess it, Paper * People * Planet.
Back then I had quit my well-paying
job as a writer for a Interior design magazine and put all my meagre savings into designing, manufacturing and marketing a simple paper making kit that made A4 paper.


It had everything you needed to make paper (apart from the blender) and packaged, quite charmingly in a jute bag.

How I managed to wrangle my friends & family to help out in it's publicity and sales I have no idea. I just stand in grateful awe that they did. We had quite a ride with it. I am willing to bet that at least 50 friends and family still remember how to make their own paper today. And if they've forgotten and would like to teach their children, the next post will help them along their way.

And this is was the purposely unintimadating instruction leaflet that came with the kit.

And now, here I sit years later, writing a blog on the beautiful diversity of handmade & recycled paper. On how people can use this humble medium of paper to help make this planet a bit better, by art & by recycling, for those who live in it now. And also for the children who will come after.

Greening the earth seemed so possible then.

And so it still is. It must be.

Because if not now, then WHEN?

And if not me, then WHO?

This CHRISTMAS

Oh so many years ago, a good friend sent me this for Christmas.
In the intervening years, life pulled us down separate and diverging paths.
Into different countries, vocations and beliefs. Still, this anonymous poem stayed with me. Accompanying me through the dark anguish and the giddying highs.
I guess maybe the meaning that Christmas held for us when we were young still holds as we move into the second half of our lives.

This one's for Adrian and for all who look for a little meaning beneath the glitter, the commercialisation and those ghastly repeating pop carols.

A Very Merry Christmas One and All.

The Road Traveled

I had wanted to do this last year. Filled out the application forms and all. But knowing how way leads onto way, I purposely got distracted with all the other happenings in life and did not apply to participate. I decided not only not to take the road less traveled. I decided not to travel down any road at all.

But this year, this year was different. A path seemed to be leading down toward the building (rather than playing at) of an actual business revolving around making things with gorgeous fabrics. For the time being , the gorgeousness covers mostly scarves & bags.

So I applied to take part in a Christmas Craft Market. The Creative Finds Market to be exact. I had been so impressed by the organisation and marketing zip of a fab crafter called Nicci Battilana who's in charge of the Craft Market that when she asked if I'd wanted in, I said "Yes" before I had time to consult with my doubts. A good thing too. Because I sold stuff and, more importantly, I followed my sister's advice and actually had fun. And for the first time since I'd come to Vancouver, I felt more in touch with the person I'd left in Singapore. And that's a wonderful thing.

It also helps to have friends. Especially girl friends. They support you through your craziness and your joy. They let you rant your frustrations and roar your successes. And, they also accompany you when you have to man a stall for 8 hours at a Christmas Craft Fair (how else would you take a loo break?) . Thank god for girl friends. Thank god for Olian. Who not only helped bring the extension cords I forgot, but also flaunted the fact that she was one of my first happy scarf customers to my new scarf customers. That endorsement really helped sell. Besides, she knows how to dress. Which only made the scarves look better.

And I guess it's true then. This belief that the spirit or the intent behind which something is done communicates, somehow, unseen to people, strangers. And they react to it. Which is probably why, the scarves got sold, women, and some men left smiling and chuffed, and we won the stall holders prize for best display, packaging & product. Which was all the more satisfying because it was never expected.

A Little Note: I have to apologise for the incredibly blurry pics at the Craft Market. It was cold that day, snow up to your ankle (and for a girl from the tropics, that's alot especially when you have to drive in it), and I had only 4 hours of sleep the night before, worrying, preparing, worrying, planning,worrying, packing and did I mention worrying?

3 Weeks in Portugal

Been away, as I'm sure you can tell. To a country I've always wanted to go but never had the chance, Portugal. It was always, somehow, just too inconvenient to get to, being at the edge of Europe and all. And every previous trip to Europe centered around London, Nice & Vienna.

But to a girl from Singapore, growing up propped at the tip of the Straits of Malacca, you hear stories of the Portuguese. Of Afonso de Albuquerque who captured Malacca, of how the seafaring Portuguese ruled Malacca as a trading port & emporium back in the 16th century and you'd also have many Eurasian friends descended from those early colonialist with surnames like De Souza, Thesiera, D' Almeda. Although Portugal was thousand of clicks away, it still felt unexpectedly familiar.


b & I only had 3 weeks for the land of the Lusitanians so we decided to concentrate on just the south: Alentejo, the Algarve and around Lisbon. No point mad-dashing through a host of towns spending only a day there with not much time t o soak up the atmosphere. No, we'd take a fairly relaxed route. Moving out from Lisbon eastward toward the medieval town of Marvao, perched on a high outcrop overlooking the dry plains of western Spain; then working our way southwards to Evora, with it's romantic Roman ruins, to Mertola where a languid river runs, then to the Algarve . Staring with a charming town called Tavira, staying in a converted Tuna factory, working westward toward the end of the world to a place called Sagres, then travelling up northward to coastal Alentejo and back to Lisbon having circled the south in 2 weeks.

But to spare you from a long-drawn tale of travel, I'll be splitting up the story into 3 parts.

This one will be about Lisbon, the place where there's so much to tell.

I'll do the next post on the inland Alentejo pit-stops. Especially morbid was the Chapelle Dos Ossos, The Chapel of Bones, which was built with 5000 skeletons....freaky.




The final post should cover the meandering through coastal towns in the Algarve, Alentejo & around Lisbon.

It's been a couple of years since I've been back to Europe and so it was Lisbon's Euro-ness that struck me. I couldn't keep my eyes off all the architectural intricacies, the millennia of history seeping out between the cobbled streets and the oh-so stylish cars zipping about the roads.



Lisbon was all but demolished in the great earthquake of 1755, one of the worst earthquakes in history. The city was rebuilt by the then Prime Minister, the Marquis of Pombal, who was one of the first to build a city based on a grid road system. The buildings constructed during his rule were made earthquake proof. And this is in the 16th century! This was just one example of his futuristic thinking. He also built extra wide 3-laned roads in the time of horse & carriage. When someone asked him why, he said that someday these roads would be small. And while drinking potent cafe pingado on a street side cafe and looking at the choc-a-bloc stream of cars chugging down Avenida Liberdade, I'd say Pombal must have had a crystal ball.


The city spreads over several hills and in the course of exploring the sights, there were tons of puffing up steep gradients.

Lisbon's ingenious solution to taking the pant out of hill climbing was to build elevators and trams, otheriwse known as funinculars, that ply slopes. Although most of the city folk don't use them anymore. More for the tourists like this girl.


And like tourists we also took the other wooden tram to explore an area called Alfama. It was one of the precious parts of Lisbon not destroyed by the earthquake.

In the 700;s when the Moors wrestled parts of southern Portugal away from the Visigoths and other Germanic tribes, Alfama made up the entire city of Lisbon.

Today, though, it is a labyrinth of narrow & twisting streets. And that wooden tram ride through it is not for those of you with weak stomachs.


On top of one of her hills is Castelo Sao Jorge. An expansive fortress castle with a commanding lookout over the river Tagus. It gave us one of our first overviews of the city. The replica of the Golden Gate bridge, the other hill Barrio Alto with it's destroyed Cammerlite church & lace steel street elevator, the large squares with statues and it's many green parks.





I think that one of the enjoyment of travelling is the unexpected that greets you when you turn around an unfamiliar corner. On the Thursday before we were to come back to Vancouver, on our way to lunch, we turned the corner that linked our hotel to Avenida Libradade. Sprinkled among the streams of people were many wearing garments of a particular green.
As we walked toward the Rossio we started seeing more and more of these greenlings. How odd! Then rounding another corner we came face to face with an entire square of leprechaun green Celtic Football club supporters come to Lisbon for a game with Benfica, one of Lisbon's teams. It was such a happy festive atmosphere buzzing the city that day. Of anticipation and pride. So taken by the vibe were we that we actually made it to street cafe to watch the game. It was like world cup all over again! Magic!!

Sadly for the Celts, they lost. Suffice to say, there were many dark & depressed-looking fans in green the next day at breakfast lamenting the game.

The other thrilling unexpected find was the little known & extremely vicious Attack Butterflies of Lisbon. So dangerous are they that they are locked up behind heavy steel doors in Lisbon's Natural History museum. A must see for all brave souls.

Well, that's the bit for Lisbon. Will be posting the rest when I gather up enough steam.

Reaching the Inner Princess

Our friends Thom, Pauline & their little daughter, Georgia, were leaving Vancouver after more than 15 years living here (well not Georgia, she's only been around 2 years or so). They were driving across the breadth of Canada, to Ontario, to make a new home there. For those of you who are used to Singaporean or European distances, it's like driving from Singapore, up peninsular Malaysia, through Thailand & Cambodia, up the length of Vietnam, pass Yunnan and southern China to Beijing. Or from London to Tehran. But this is beside the point.

The point is. I didn't get to say goodbye to Georgia, not that she'd remember me, her being a wee girl and all. But I felt that I wanted to give her something to remember Vancouver by. Reaching into the depths of my own inner Princess (which I knew EVERY girl must have inside her) I dredged up long forgotten memories of what someone shorter than 3 feet would find fab & fun. Then I put together the design for 3 little girl purses. All were made of glow-in-the-dark fabrics which will give children loads to fun with after the sun sets.

Inspired by another princess from a long time ago and a galaxy far, far away, Princess Neon Cheesecake came into being. She's was a twin of the one that went to Georgia. Pink, yellow with headphone-like handles resembling the clenched fists of a power puff girl. She was bought the moment I'd put her online.




Then came Princess Lime Sherbet to keep Cheesecake company.




Princess Lemon Lollipop completes the trio of royalty. Each with a colour & a character of her very own. Kinda like every little princess exploring in every girl. Or sleeping in every woman.

We've Struck Oil !!!

Never thought I get a first-hand taste of living in the Middle East till last Tuesday.

I was visiting Hazra's place in North Burnaby, near the Burrard Inlet. And we were having a fun time with her teaching me how to make a proper Malay Mee goreng. After filling out tummies & just before dessert, I noticed a young fireman walking up her garden path. All my thoughts of how cute he looked in his sleeveless overalls were truncated when he calmly informed us we had to be evacuated from the house. Pronto. There was some sort of oil or gas leak a couple of doors down and all the residents were to be moved to a little pub about 1km away.

The video will give you a better idea of what happened.


The oil spill closed the Barnet highway for 2 days ( a major route from Port Moody to the City) and the environmental damage to the wildlife of the Burrard Inlet is yet to be determined. Apparently a city road crew punctured the pipe and for a while, it looked like the oil strike from the Beverly Hillbillies.

Almost a week later and the pipe's been repaired. The highway's been cleaned up, the homes & gardens covered with the crude oil will probably not restored.
And the funny thing is, for me, the flavour of Nasi Goreng will forever be laced with the pungent & headache-inducing aroma of dark crude oil fumes.

Every Girl Needs a Little Fountain

The sound of flowing water, especially when you live in a busy, bustling,noisy city can give surprising comfort. Maybe it's something to do with the feng shui of having energy made moving by the trickling water. Maybe it's a gentle reminder of the visceral simplicity of being in nature where the body just knows how to relax.

I worked in a wonderful tropical spa on the beautiful island of Bintan for quite a few years before I came to live in BC. In and around this spa were many places where water flowed. From tilted jars made of volcanic rock to large jars overflowing in a symphony of trickles and splashes. It made the plants look lush and helped the over-wrought people who came to the spa chill and thoroughly relax.

Methinks, I was gonna have me one of them water features.

If I were back in Singapore, I'd know where to get one. The Nature Company was the place where the spa used to get all her water features. They have all sorts. From the rustic to the modern to the air-spritzing kind. In fact, for the cost-conscious, they even have simple DIY instructions where all you need to do is to buy the components to build your own little water feature.

But since I'm now living in DIY country. I had to make one on my own. Also, to get someone else to do it would cost an arm & a leg. And then how could I go on crafting? Nothing for it then but to scope out the rock suppliers and garden shops.

My main problem was where would I get the reservoir big enough to hold the water? Since my water feature was on above ground on a balcony I couldn't dig and in ground reservoir. Custom fiberglass containers were priced ridiculously out of range, and most rectangular containers had sides that were too high. Finally, the demon cat came to the rescue. Her litter tray was, why, it was just the perfect size. Ok, I'm not that gross to use her litter tray as my reservoir, but the pet shop down the road had one just like it.

Next step was to choose something from which the water would spout. An object d'art as my favourite City Gardener, Matt James says at least twice an episode. And I'd the perfect thing. An old clay urn I'd found in a deserted fisher hut on the east coast of Malaysia, which I'd lugged home to Singapore and subsequently brought to Canada.


Drilling a hole in its bottom was a heart attack and a half. I'd never done any delicate drilling before! What if I drilled and then cracked it? Breath held tight, heart beating at full gallop, I proceeded. The gods must have been in a good mood that afternoon because it was a hole in one.


Hoses fixed to a pump & into the urn. Bricks around the reservoir, plants placed to soften the hard edges and river rock in the urn to moderate the fountain. And there you have it. Some flowing shui to go with the whipping feng in this wild west coast .

But more than that. It gives me a small sense of being able to make a thought, and idea, a feeling see the light of day.

And that is a good feeling.