A Malaysian-Chinese Woman’s Quest to Grow Green Roots in Rural Britain
From Kuala Lumpur to Cotswolds: A Malaysian-Chinese Woman’s Quest to Grow Green Roots in Rural Britain
In the rolling green hills of the Cotswolds, where stone cottages nestle beside hedgerows and weekend farmers’ markets sell locally churned butter, there’s a small nursery that stands out: Lush Haven, run by 38-year-old Malaysian-Chinese horticulturist Eliza Tan. Tucked between a village pub and a vintage bookstore, the nursery is filled with unlikely treasures—rare tropical herbs from Southeast Asia, drought-resistant succulents native to China, and pollinator-friendly flowers that Eliza has spent years adapting to Britain’s unpredictable weather. For Eliza, this patch of land isn’t just a business; it’s a bridge between her dual heritage and a rural community that once saw her as an outsider. Her journey to this quiet corner of England is one of resilience, curiosity, and a stubborn belief that plants—like people—can thrive in unexpected places.
A Seed of an Idea, Planted Far From Home
Eliza grew up in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, surrounded by her grandmother’s lush backyard garden. “Nainai would wake me up at 6 a.m. to water the kaffir lime trees and harvest lemongrass for her soups,” she recalls. “She taught me that plants don’t just feed us—they connect us to the earth and to each other.” After studying horticulture at the University of Malaya, Eliza worked at a botanical garden in Kuala Lumpur, specializing in preserving endangered tropical plants. But in 2016, when her husband, a British conservationist, was offered a job at a wildlife sanctuary in the Cotswolds, she made the difficult decision to leave her family, her garden, and the familiar warmth of Malaysian sunshine for a country where winters were cold and the soil was foreign.
Her first year in the Cotswolds was lonely. The village of Bourton-on-the-Water, where they settled, had few people of Asian descent. Neighbors smiled politely but rarely stopped to chat; some asked if she was “on vacation” or “visiting family,” even after she’d lived there for months. Eliza struggled with the weather, too—her tropical plants, which she’d brought in small pots, wilted in the damp, cool air. “I’d stand in the backyard, watching my curry leaf plant die, and wonder if I’d made a mistake,” she says. “I felt like I didn’t belong here—like my skills, my knowledge, even my love of plants, didn’t fit.”
But Eliza’s Nainai had taught her another lesson: “When a plant struggles, you don’t give up on it—you adjust the soil, the light, the water.” So she started researching. She spent hours in the village library, reading books about British gardening and climate-adaptation techniques. She joined a local gardening club, where she was the only non-white member, and asked endless questions about which plants thrived in clay soil and how to protect tender shoots from frost. She even visited nearby nurseries, observing how they arranged their displays and spoke to customers. Slowly, a new idea took root: she would open a nursery that combined her expertise in tropical and Asian plants with plants that suited Britain’s climate—creating a space where people could learn about global greenery while growing things that worked in their own gardens.
Growing a Business—And Trust—One Plant at a Time
In 2018, Eliza used her savings to rent a half-acre plot of land on the edge of the village. She named it Lush Haven—a nod to her Malaysian roots (“lush” evoked the dense greenery of Kuala Lumpur) and her hope that it would be a peaceful retreat for the community. At first, progress was slow. She spent months preparing the soil, building raised beds, and sourcing seeds and cuttings—some from Asian nurseries (she had to learn how to navigate UK customs for plant imports), others from local growers. She planted rows of Thai basil (adapted to shade), Chinese wolfberries (hardy enough for winters), and Malaysian bird’s eye chili (grown in greenhouses). She also added British favorites like lavender and wildflowers, arranging them alongside the Asian plants to show customers how they could complement each other.
Opening day was quiet. Only a handful of people stopped by, mostly curious villagers who’d heard about the “new Asian nursery.” One elderly man, Mr. Jenkins, looked at the kaffir lime tree and said, “What’s that? Never seen anything like it in these parts.” Eliza didn’t just sell him the tree—she gave him a recipe for tom yum soup and explained how to use the leaves. “He came back a week later, holding a jar of soup he’d made, and said it was the best thing he’d tasted in years,” she laughs. Word spread quickly. Soon, local chefs were visiting to buy fresh Asian herbs for their menus; parents brought their kids to learn about plants from different countries; and gardeners came for advice on how to grow “unusual” plants in their Cotswold gardens.
Eliza faced challenges, too. In her first winter, a frost damaged most of her greenhouse-grown chili plants—she lost months of work and had to borrow money to restock. Some customers were skeptical of “foreign” plants, saying they “wouldn’t survive” in British gardens. But Eliza persisted, offering guarantees (“If it dies in six months, I’ll replace it for free”) and hosting workshops on “growing global plants locally.” She also partnered with the village’s primary school, teaching kids how to grow bok choy and mung beans in the school garden and explaining the role of these plants in Malaysian and Chinese cuisine. “I didn’t just want to sell plants,” she says. “I wanted to share stories—about where the plants come from, about my culture, about how we’re all connected through the earth.”
A Nursery That’s More Than Plants—It’s Community
Today, Lush Haven is a beloved part of the Bourton-on-the-Water community. On weekends, the nursery is bustling: families pick out plants while Eliza’s husband, Tom, serves homemade lemongrass tea; local chefs chat with her about new herbs to try; and kids play in the small “bug hotel” Eliza built to teach them about pollinators. She’s expanded her offerings, too—selling homemade jams made from her wolfberries, hosting “tropical dinner nights” where she cooks Malaysian dishes using ingredients from the nursery, and leading garden tours that highlight the links between plants and culture.
Eliza’s impact goes beyond the nursery. She’s become a bridge between the village’s long-time residents and the small but growing number of Asian families who’ve moved to the area in recent years. She started a “Garden Swap” where people can trade plants and recipes, and she helped organize the village’s first “International Food and Flower Festival,” which features dishes and plants from around the world. Mr. Jenkins, who once knew nothing about kaffir lime trees, now helps her tend to the nursery on weekends. “Eliza didn’t just bring new plants to the village,” he says. “She brought new ideas, new friendships—she made us feel more connected to the world.”
For Eliza, the greatest joy is seeing her plants—and her community—thrive. “When I first moved here, I thought I’d have to leave my heritage behind to fit in,” she says. “But this nursery taught me that I don’t have to choose. I can be Malaysian-Chinese and a Cotswold gardener. I can grow lemongrass next to lavender, and it works—just like we all work together here.”
On a sunny afternoon in spring, Eliza kneels in the nursery, planting a new batch of bok choy seeds. A group of kids from the primary school gathers around, watching as she covers the seeds with soil. “Remember,” she tells them, “every seed is a promise—you have to nurture it, be patient, and believe it will grow.” It’s a lesson she’s learned not just from plants, but from her own journey—a journey that turned a lonely outsider into a rooted member of a community, one green shoot at a time.