How does your garden grow?

Mum lives in a house with a small garden, and a few years ago, I decided to use the space to try to ‘preserve’ some edible plants. I’d noticed fewer and fewer of my familiar childhood plants, in favour of ixora of all colours with no nectar – sterile hybrids developed by scientists.

So when I found someone with bunga telang, I asked for a plant, and grew it on the fence. Bunga telang is the blue flower that cooks use to colour their kuey. Then there was leftover serai, or lemongrass, after cooking, which went into the ground and did quite well – well enough to invite the neighbour, who makes great rending, to come over and help herself whenever she wants. Ditto with leftover tumeric.

The guidelines are simple – don’t pay for plants wherever possible, and don’t pay for pots or fertiliser whenever possible, either.

So far so good. Lots of plants have come my way for free. Ditto with pots, as long as you’re not too fussy about how pristine they look. People have moved, and had to give away their plants. That’s how I got my limau purut (kaffir lime) plant. In fact, I even got a second one when another friend moved, and passed this on to my sister-in-law.

At the garden fest in 2008, they were giving away Indian borage, which grows very easily. That went into a pot. Some sugar cane growing wild that I spotted on a walk has been doing well in a corner. Too well, actually, since I don’t actually eat the stuff, and when they grow, the canes are leaning against the fence and threaten to bring it down. Thankfully, we’ve found someone who likes it.

Other stuff includes curry leaf, pandan, and dill, which grows so easily from cuttings anyone will give you some. Very nice with tuna sandwiches and fish dishes, too. And a belimbing plant, courtesy of an aunt with a proper tree. This might give fruit when it grows up in a few years.

Bizarrely enough, some friends once gave me a grape vine. It has given lots of leaves, which I have never tried to turn into dolmades (one day, I swear I will!), but this year, it finally squeezed out a bunch of 5 grapes, which something ate before I plucked them. Another lot of 3 grapes has disappeared, but I hold hopes for a third bunch of 4 whole grapes. I think I should just use the leaves for dolmades.

One of my happiest finds was when I visited an aunt who was about to move, and found bunga kantan. Also called torch ginger, the bud is used in rojak, but I prefer it in a prawn dish. The plant is huge, but I don’t mind, since it gives me the occasional bud, reminding me to start cooking. Those without the plant, don’t despair – its available in Geylang Serai market, at about 50 cents each.

Here is the recipe:

1 torch ginger bud, sliced thinly
2 cloves garlic
3 onions, chopped
Assam (tamarind) juice
2 limau purut leaves thinly sliced
1 stick serai
1 red chilli, chopped
Prawns, peeled
Salt and pepper to taste

Fry the onions, garlic, lemongrass, limau purut, torch ginger bud and chilli. Add assam water,simmer a while, then add prawns. Add salt and pepper.

A big hand for 2nd hand

Second-hand has a bad name – one thinks of faded clothes handed down by older siblings or cousins.

However, I believe that Singapore has changed since those bad old days, when buying a second-hand car put you in real danger of being stuck with a lemon. Just as car technology has improved, so that one can buy ‘pre-owned’ vehicles without worrying about having to push, Singapore has prospered to the point where we get rid of things that are not only still usable, but are well within their better days.

Oddly enough, the line: “This is really well-made, and will last you a lifetime” is still a clincher whenever a salesman tries to sell us something, but we seldom keep anything for a lifetime. Instead, we get bored, or something newer and nicer hits the market, and we decide to upgrade.

That’s fine if you can afford it, and I understand it – I like getting new stuff myself. However, I try to make sure that some of my ‘new’ stuff is second-hand.

This makes financial and ecological sense. Second-hand costs a lot less, since most people like and can afford new, so low demand keeps prices down. As it has already been made for someone else, you save on the world’s resources as well.

It makes eminent sense when you’re trying out a new hobby, for example, or something that you’re not sure you’re going to keep up. So when I decided to dip my toes into dSLR photography, because everyone was telling me I’d be better able to realise my ideas with a bigger camera, I bought my equipment second-hand.

For $1,000, I got a then-entry-level Canon 400D (the 450D had not come out yet), with an 18-85mm zoom lens, instead of the dinky 18-55mm kit lens that came with most cameras. It seems someone had bought this nice equipment, then decided quite quickly that it was not for them – either they wanted something more sophisticated, or they preferred the simplicity of a compact camera after all.

Either way, I got to enter the brave new world of dSLR photography at a lower price, with equipment that was maybe a couple of months old, and which had not been used much. As I said to a friend, worst come to the worst I lose a few hundred dollars palming the camera and lens off to a third owner. He said the worst scenario he could think of was I drop the stuff and break it all. Whatever – if it didn’t work out, it would cost less.

I find that going pre-used is also good for clothes, books and knick knacks. Maybe it’s because I like the St Michael’s Church jumble sale, and am a fan of the National Library Board’s annual Book Exchange. But actually, it doesn’t really matter that the book you’re reading has been through someone else’s hands – after all, we borrow books from friends or the library.

As for clothes, well, we don’t give away old, worn-out clothes anymore – we hang on to those comfy old friends and wear them at home, or sleep in them. But we have clothes that are mistakes, or which for some reason we hardly wear, and these we give away to make more room in our closets. The other week, I was given a large travel bag of clothes, among them a pair of Guess jeans that still had its price tags on. I passed some clothes to two other people, and have plenty left for myself. We’re all happy.

I bring this used goods habit a step further, and am happy to accept furniture. In fact, when our sofa started getting flat and uncomfortable, I let it get out to my network of friends and family that I was looking out for a new sofa set. A couple of months later, sis-in-law told me that her neighbour was looking for a home for her sofa set, and would I take a look?

It was great – comfy, the right height for our short legs, and a nice dark brown. Free, too. It only cost the price of getting the Helping Hand people to transport it over to my place, and cart my old set away. The Helping Hand guys were cooing over the nice leather as they wrapped it my ‘new’ sofa set in plastic to move it.

Don’t get me wrong – I’m not a repository of other people’s junk. I only accept things that will be useful to me. In fact, when someone is moving, with lots of stuff on offer, I tend to step aside if someone else shows an interest in something I like. Well, I do have lots already, and don’t mind being a recipient of last resort.

So I can testify that the second-hand route is a great way to save money, save Gaia and enjoy your creature comforts. The things are unlikely to be really old, and, more importantly, they are new to me.

BTW: The library is having a sale of books on July 10 and 11. At Singapore Expo Hall 6A, 9.30 am – 8pm

How the Book Exchange went

The Library had accepted 16 books from me for the book exchange, after refusing Thornton Wilder’s Theophilus North because the pages were brown. Whatever – I don’t mind keeping it. NLB accepted the biography of Cher and other volumes rescued from the bin when friends were moving out, and these formed the bulk of my 16 Book Exchange contributions.

I checked Facebook to see if anyone wanted my coupons for a library in some third world country, like I read about last year. Found nothing.

So come the day, I drove towards the Central Library bright and early, parked at Bali Lane to save on CBD and higher parking rates at the library itself, and walked seven minutes.

Half an hour into the event, there was already a queue waiting to go in. I joined with sinking heart, but it was windy and pleasant, and the people about me were friendly. I could hear announcements telling the people who were inside, choosing books, to please make their choice quickly so that people like myself could have their turn.

The turn came within half an hour. Crowded, but not impossible to move about. And the selection was not bad. It took me just 20 minutes to settle on my 16 books – 4 or 5 that friends might be interested in, some that I was very keen on, like Shamini Flint’s Inspector Singh Investigates: A Bali Conspiracy Most Foul.

I went for one of her readings once, and was quite impressed, but didn’t buy her books, because I was in the middle of a self-imposed period of not buying any entertainment. I bought the first volume of The Seeds of Time – The Animal Talkers, and thought it was great. The volume has since disappeared among my friends. I’m waiting for the next.

Borrowed two more of her books from the library, one about Inspector Singh investigating the murder of a timber tycoon in KL, and another about murder in a law firm. Both were good, so I was glad to get my hands on one more.

Also picked up a RK Narayan, a signed copy of an Alexander McCall Smith’s Botswana novel, and various self-improvement, economics and other reading that looked interesting. No harm, right? If I don’t like it, I don’t have to finish, and can exchange them again next year. Actually, even if I like them, but don’t want to keep them, I can pass them on to another person next year!

This is great!

One thing though – carrying 16 books back to the car was do-able, but not a breeze, and parking at the library that afternoon was not a breeze either. I went for a performance of Animal Farm there, and had to queue to get into the car park. Waited long enough to make me late, and had to watch the first 10 minutes or so on the TV outside.

If you want to exchange a lot of books, it might be worthwhile getting someone along to help carry – just tell them to choose what they want. Or consider taking a taxi home – it just might be better than waiting to enter the car park, then joining another line to get to the books.

The Book Exchange is here again!

Yippee! The NLB's book exchange is coming up again!
Here are the details:
Book Exchange 2010

Give a book. Get a book. The infinite book exchange.
Give a book, get a book at the Book Exchange! Drop off your used books* at any Public Library from 10 to 23 April, 11.00am to 9.00pm and get a coupon for every book** accepted. Bring your coupon down to The Plaza, National Library Building, on 24 April to redeem for new reads.

Event details:
Date: Sat, 24 April 2010
Time: 8.30am to 6.00pm
Venue: The Plaza, National Library Building, 100 Victoria Street

*We accept children's and adults' fiction and non-fiction books (eg. Cookbooks, travel guides and romance novels) in any four official languages. Books in other languages will not be accepted. We also accept used library books bought from previous Library Book Sales. Textbooks, magazines and audio-visual materials are not accepted. Used books for exchange should be in relatively good physical condition.

**Each person can exchange up to a maximum of 30 used books.

For enquiries, please call NLB Helpdesk at 6332 3255 or email: helpdesk@nlb.gov.sg.

BTW, good condition means they don't want tears or even brown pages, or books whose pages have notes written on them.
Seems a bit pickier than last year, I think, but still a chance to get a fresh bunch of old books for old. And as good a chance as any for our old books to find new homes.

Walking hard

I started walking a couple of years ago for exercise, but progress had been slow, no pun intended. I would crawl out of the house once a week in the late afternoon to meet a friend who lives in Normanton Park, and we would walk through the Science Park. We’d miss a few weeks when our schedules clashed, and it took a year before we made it all the way across the Southern Ridges.

Then Ed, another friend, who lived a km away, suggested we walk. That went on better, because she was nearby, and more determined. We started at 7 in the morning, and would saunter along Bedok Reservoir. After a while, we added MacRitchie and the Botanic Gerdens to our routes.

Then she got a step counter and our lives changed.

Suddenly we knew how far we walked, and how many steps we took, putting us in touch with those ideals that we’d read about – you’re supposed to walk seven thousand steps, burn up how many hundred calories etc. It had all been guesswork before, and we weren’t even qualified to guess. As such, it gave us more motivation: “We’re feeling tired because we did a lot of uphill walking, but we’ve only walked 2.9 km. Let’s continue on an easier route for another couple of km.”

Other significant moments came when I returned after a trip and overslept – Ed went walking by herself. Once she got sick and I only saw her message after I was dressed. I went walking by myself. It was doable, so we knew we didn’t need the company to exercise – company was nice, but I could do it by myself.

Another turning point came when I found I had a morning appointment on a day we were supposed to walk. Rather than give up the walk, I suggested, only half-seriously, that we meet at 6.30 instead of seven. She accepted eagerly. “Actually, that would be better for me.” Six-thirty turned out to be a hit, as it was even cooler while we walked, and traffic was so much better both ways. Six-thirty it was from then on.

December was a good month for walking, as Ed had time to do longer walks. We upped our walking frequency, and even our walking speed from saunter to business-like, explored other routes and walked longer routes like the Southern Ridges.

There have been problems. We had not been used to the exercise regimen and had nowhere to put things like car keys and cash.

Once, after a walk at MacRitchie Reservoir, we were feeling peckish. After ordering food, we discovered we had no money. Another embarrassment came when we each brought $10 on our walk, saw that petrol was low, and happily stopped by a petrol station to fill up. With $90 worth of oil in our tank, we realised that we had no credit card. A friend who lives nearby had to be turfed out of the house at 7am, to rescue us. “Seven o’çlock I can do,” she assured us. “Six is a different matter, though.”

We’ve broken the no-money-so-embarrassing jinx, and we’re on our way to better fitness and happiness.

We walk twice a week together. Ed has a pilates class and some other class, so she gets her exercise four times a week. I got a sis-in-law who lives nearby to agree to two walks a week , which we do at Bidadari – a very safe and inspiring place to walk, as there are ghurkas whizzing past you to keep you on your toes, and also to chase away any baddies.

Some mornings I still walk with the friend from Normanton Park, but it remains spotty. Another friend occasionally calls me for afternoon walks, either at the Botanics or Dairy Farm, and that’s ok too – I never say no.

What does walking have to do with being frugal? Well, it leads to better health, and some weight loss when combined with mild calorie counting, which should reduce medical costs somewhat in a few years’ time. (For this reason, I’ve also been consciously trying to stand and sit straighter – less back pain and massages).

It’s also cheaper than joining a gym.

Minimum Fuss CNY

Each time many of us think of an upcoming Chinese New Year, the anxiety levels rise. There's spring cleaning to do, tons of things to buy, and, come the day, we'll be rushing about preparing food, serving food, serving drinks and washing up. Even with the help of a maid, that's no joke.

Thankfully, my case is less hectic. The change started a couple of years ago, when I thought aloud about going away for the season to avoid the stress. Mum being fairly high in the family heirarchy, lots of relatives visit, and some of them had an unerring knack of arriving at mealtimes, with children who didn't like staples like rice, but who preferred to tank up on savoury snacks, wiping out the entire season's supply in the space of an hour. One year, I went down on the second day to a dry goods shop to catch them when they did their symbolic opening, to get more supplies.

So leaving seemed a good idea, though not exactly feasible - other better-prepared people started booking the moment they get their calendars, leaving only far-flung destinations, and I wasn't about to fly all the way to South Africa for three days to avoid the New Year.

However, the thought of Mum missing the season so horrified my brothers that one of them offered to host the festival on our behalf - we'll eat the reunion dinner at his place, they'll bring their families to our place in the morning of the first day to pay their respects, then we all adjourn to his place to receive visitors.

Sounded good. We have been refining the division of labour, with various ones of us bringing our own special dishes for lunch on the first day. This year, lunch will be at a different brother's place, so the work gets shared out a bit.

I've also decided this year that another way to preserve my sanity and my pocket is to stop buying New Year goodies. I don't think I go overboard with the cakes and stuff, but there's just too many pastries going about during this time - and going at inflated prices, too! Last year, I struggled to finish the boxes of stuff that gathered in the house - force-feeding mum, Lena and myself on mandarin oranges before they got dry or mouldy or bad in any other way.

Mandarins were the easy bit. Everyone else having surrendered long before, I finally finished my last bottle of kueh bangkit in July or August. I decided, "Never again."

This year, I got a tin of love letters from a bakery in JB, for our own consumption - they have been consumed even before the New Year, and a radio station gave us a box of pineapple tarts. More tarts and stuff have come our way from a sis-in-law and another brother, which should do fine when the immediate family visits on the first day. If I find the time, I'll pop out to get a couple of bottles of aerated water.

Other friends, who have said that they wanted to give some tarts etc have been advised to wait a few months, and see how they feel then - better to eat fresh kueh bangkit in August, rather than stuff that was made in February, right? And if they forget, well, I won't remember either, so no harm done there.

There are a couple of good things that come with the New Year, which I plan to keep up, but in moderation. First is the house-cleaning - no one can argue with a clean house.

There is also the food aspect. Though I plan to restrain the buying, I've gotten some favourites, and will prepare them for the season, and everyone can eat some. But I won't prepare excessive quantities, so no one will have to pig out.

Hopefully, it will be a happy, stress-free New Year, and not too unhealthy or fattening, either.

The Personal International Co-op

This is not one particular institution, but a concept I’ve come up with that anyone can implement.

Here are the conditions that I believe make international co-operatives a possibility for many of us:
The Internet and better telecommunications have resulted in many of us having friends from everywhere, and being able to communicate with them easily and cheaply. Many of us also travel for business or pleasure as a matter of course.
Although globalisation has been around for some time, many things easily available abroad – in places where we know people - are still not available where we are, or available at much higher prices. Actually, a lot of things are pretty expensive, even local stuff.
Most of us operate with excess capacity.

Now, the personal international co-op means leveraging on your network to get things you want more easily and cheaply. And you getting things for your friends, too, of course. But instead of squeezing each other, we rely on each other’s “excess capacity”.

For example, I was visiting a community garden where I know some of the gardeners. They were digging up old plants that they didn’t want any more and offered them to me. I’m always happy to accept free plants. One of the gardeners mentioned that the flowers and the leaves of this plant could be eaten, and demonstrated by stuffing a bloom into her mouth.

Great – that reminded me of a Japanese friend in Singapore, who told me he’s always looking out for edible flowers to use as garnishes. (I’d given him some bunga telang before). So I texted him, and he came over to get some. Over tea, he mentioned that he was thinking of taking up photography more seriously, and buying a dSLR. From Japan, on the second-hand market, so he wouldn’t waste too much money if he didn’t like the trouble of using an SLR - changing lenses and so on.

I saw an opportunity. While he was looking, could he also keep an eye out for a particular lens that I wanted? Sure. He was going to Tokyo soon, no problem!

So the plants were the gardeners’ excess capacity, and since I had several, I could give some away. My Japanese friend was already going to shop for camera equipment, and one more lens wouldn’t be too much to carry back. So we both benefit, without anyone being really inconvenienced.

Another friend once told she had a great recipe for home-made hair conditioner, but it required castor oil, which she didn’t know where to get. I mentioned this to my sister-in-law, who immediately said she had some bottles of the magic ingredient, which she didn’t want anymore.

Another time, I was looking for a book which costs just US$0.01 on Amazon resellers, but was chagrined to learn they don’t sell to Singapore (globalisation letting me down again!). Then I remembered my sis-in-law has a sister in New York. Would she oblige? “Just send me everything in an email, so I can forward it her.”

A couple of weeks later, sis-in-law forwarded me an email from New York saying the book was bought, and would be couriered down by a visiting friend, who was travelling light. Ta-dah!

Everyone has the potential to contribute, since everyone comes from somewhere and knows someone. Recently, Lena, who works as our maid, went back to the Philippines for a break. I wasn’t about to ask her to carry anything into the Philippines, since she needed every kilo of her baggage allowance. But coming back was a different story. I asked her to get a bottle of Tanduay rum for me – good brown stuff, aged five years, only costs a few bucks there.

She hardly carried any baggage home – in fact, she didn’t bring back any check-in luggage. But I think she was gratified to see how pleased I was with the rum – which is useful for sangria and parties. And if you don’t care for that sort of thing, pass some of this “excess capacity” on to someone who likes baking fruit cakes.

The network is already there, because it is your normal network of friends and relatives. The only thing necessary to turn it into an international co-op (or even a local one) is to let people know what you want, and to find out what they want.

If you’re going somewhere, and have excess capacity, say you have shopping time and can carry things back, just let people know a little sooner, to give them time to think about what they might want.

Or, if you want to get rid of something which is still usable, get the word out early.

And encourage your friends to do the same.