Lessons learned

Green Bananas -

Time for the green bananas story. I know you've been wondering (yeah right!) why I call this column Green Bananas. I have been wondering myself, actually, but perhaps the following tale will shed some light on this mystery.

In the spring of 1997, we traveled to Bali, a small island in the South Pacific. It's a beautiful postage stamp size Indonesian province, harbouring three and a half million very artistic, hardworking, gentle people.

It's hard to imagine, but every person in Newfoundland has about 200 times the space that a Balinese person has - it's that densely populated. This tiny speck in the ocean, also known as the "Island of the Gods," has roughly one shrine or temple for every 175 people - an estimated 20,000 temples and shrines. Every temple is ornately hand carved, as are most buildings, in fact.

Almost every day we witnessed colourful processions along the streets - people dressed up in beautiful finery, carrying fruit and other gifts for the gods. I could wax lyrical about this place, but I now remember I was going to tell you my green bananas story.

We stayed in a small wooden cottage along the coast for a few days. By day we swam in the lukewarm ocean, at night we fell asleep listening to the melodious clanging of a myriad wooden wind chimes.

Each morning we were served a glorious breakfast of freshly picked fruit such as papayas, bananas, mangoes and pineapples. Mouth watering memories!

Our three-year-old ate quite happily by herself, but since I was the only source of food for our not so tiny eight-month-old I couldn't eat enough - ever. I was always looking for my next meal, because he was, too.

One day we decided to go for a stroll along the road by the ocean. After about half an hour I started to go crazy. Food! I had to eat - now! We were in the back of beyond and they don't have supermarkets, thank you very much.

I became more frantic by the minute and then I spotted them, hanging over somebody's garden wall. "A gift from the gods!" said my gut. "But they're green," countered my sensible brain. What to do? My survival instinct took over and, after making sure nobody was watching me steal, I wrenched a green banana off the tree.

Here's a tip: No matter how hungry you are - Don't. Ever. Try. To. Eat. A. Green Banana. Even if you manage to scratch a few bits of peel off with your fingernails. My tongue still curls when I think of it.

Our little double-chinned Sumo wrestler is now a skinny 13-year-old who loves most fruits - except bananas. What's the moral of the story? Several. Not everything that's green is fit to eat; always take food with you when you go hiking; and don't steal somebody else's bananas.

Perhaps the Balinese gods prompted me to call this column Green Bananas, who knows? After all, they like offerings of fruit. Although, they prefer it to be ripe, I'm sure.