Two Seven.

Julien & I, Sept4th 2009

27.

It's a good number really, 2 having this connatation of inclusion and wholeness and seven being, well, pretty damn lucky. As numbers go, I consider myself pretty "young" and only expect to wholly hit adulthood and maturity at the big 5-0. Yes. I believe that is when you become an adult. That's when you wear Chanel No. 5, frequent the spa as much as you like and spoil your neices and nephews (look out sis).

I feel as though we live in a society consumed by the idea of youth. We marvel and idolize young-ness, and the recklessness and wastage of life that comes with it. (Yes, I'm making up words like "wastage" but hey, I'm 27. As Grandma would say, I'm allowed). Even this year, I was taken aback by a subtle wave of social pressure, comments such as "hey old lady", "when are you getting married" and "ooh the clock is ticking." This is from the same people who complain about the pressure their families put on them. I've let it go. After all, I'm 27.

I'd like to think age as a positive progression, that as the numbers climb higher, you tune out the frequencies you don't enjoy. I think older women do this really well, and in so develop this mystery and awesomeness that I can't describe.

So I'll tell you a story.

I went shopping the other week for shoes, and tried on a pair of impossibly high platform heels. I turned to these two "older" ladies and asked for their opinion. They must have seen the uncertainty in my face, because they were all over me. These women were unfettered, unapologetic and had been around the block enough to know the Truth.

What's the Truth?

"Honey," one of them said, with a bemused look on her face "you look great. Wear them every chance you got, enjoy yourself... Because when you get to our age, you'll want to look back with a sparkle in your eye."

These women had brevity, sincerity, sexiness and awesome complexity in their characters that made me realize how wrong the MTV culture is. You realize that in your youth, you try to conjure up an image of who you are, instead of really exploring the depths of your personality. Meeting women like this also made me realize - you better be yourself, because in the end, they can read you like a book. And they do.

So in my 27th year, I decided instead of "getting serious" I would "get simple." I would try to learn my Truth. What I mean is, a promise to simplify my life down to its most core and important roots. It's scraping off the excess paint, it's concentrating on those core values, it's de-bunking, uncluttering and taking out the trash. Because in the end, if I'm going to wear No. 5... I'm going to need the attitude and self-assurance a 50-year-old Riani would have.

Bling Bling Baby

After my last two semi-serious posts about the philosophy of life, I thought I'd light things up and share a fun part of my job.

For those of you who don't know, I started a luxury company here in Hong Kong, predominantly selling luxury watches. We've since also expanded into jewelry and it's my job to source more suppliers for the Asia region. Here's a photo from a visit I paid to my spanish-speaking Hong-Kong native supplier (don't ask). We've been selling your garden-variety Tiffany's and Cartier at a discount, but I find the non-branded products to be just as exciting (and cheaper).

Ever a girly-girl with an attitude, I decided to try ALL the rings on at the same time (and that was from only ONE tray). I could have sat there happy and content for hours, dreamily enjoying the bling and drinking way too much green tea. I only wish they let me in the vault, where I'm sure there was enough shiny stuff to oogle for at least another few hours.

I hope to supply japanese soothe-sayers you see on Iron Chef, blinged out rappers or the person who owns this car. Needless to say, I'll continue to enjoy my trips to the diamond suppliers...

Life as a Cartoon.

I've been reading a lot lately, usually over a cup of hot tea cut with milk and sugar. I prop my head against the armrest of my chocolate-colored leather sofa and read thick books, trying to get a sense of life and all its persuits.

A reoccuring theme in my head (after reading these books about monks and peace and yada-yada) is the way I view my life... and how it needs to change. I'm currently seeing in black and white, I'd like to move to color and then, oh yes baby, full HDTV. For me, I think I'm happiest when I see my life as a HDTV cartoon series... I love when complicated structures melt into simplistic lines, it's where color is more vibrant and characters more defined and animated.

I remember seeing a girl riding a bicylce in Seattle, with long ribbons in her hair and bright green socks with red polka-dots. She wore brown-green cordroy pants and had a yellow basket filled with fruit. I couldn't help but smiling. I also remember an old man painting on the hills of Gas Works Park, with a rainbow umbrella sheilding his head. Here in Hong Kong, there's a tree growing out of the wall that I love, at a 40 degree angle.

I find beauty in animation - I feel the warmth and simplicity makes you slow down to the pace of life. To breathe deep, to laugh, to love.

In Pursuit of Happiness (Chasing something I have already.)

It's strange, isn't it? That with all this technology and ability to communicate, we can still feel lonely or distant from those we love. With families spread out over the world, you realize that in the end, where you are doesn't actually matter that much. It's who you're with.

I remember growing up in "ghetto" Jakarta, in a time when the Internet was just taking of, when international phone calls weren't cheap and Starbucks coffee was available only at the airportsw of neighboring countries. Yet my life was full and energetic and wondrous. My sisters - two individuals whom my heart now aches for, accompanied me to movies, ice skating and to the mall to take photo-box pictures together. What is it about our childhood that we reminisce about, what do we miss so much in our adulthood?

Sometimes I think that life was just simpler back then, but in my heart I know it wasn't. I think the difference is, as a child you react with your heart, you live from your heart (instead of your mind) and you're thus aware of your immediate surroundings. You're also more forgiving, loving, carefree and joyous as a child and haven't quite yet mastered the skill of judging yourself and others. As adults we tend to suppress these simplest of truths, believing that being more complex and sophisticated is actually a good thing. I hope that when I have children I'll be wise and sensible enough to not take life too seriously with them. I hope that we'll eat ice-cream that drips on our laps, spend days at the beach burying each other in the sand and nights together watching scary movies under thick blankets. (I'm almost certain I'll be more scared than the kids. I'm such a scaredy cat).

I also find that as adults, we allow unimportant things to cloud our lives and our judgements. Our priorities don't line up with what our supposed values are, we make unnecessary sacrifices and then lament the choices we make - mostly subconsciously. We learn not to express ourselves, to sweep our concerns and emotions under the rug, in hopes that they'll just disappear. I'm trying to just be aware of myself these days, hear myself, know myself...you can't imagine what I tell myself!

Anyway, I know I have not written in awhile and many of you were concerned. I have missed you too. But I believe that strong storms cause wild acorns like me to grow stronger, and I hope that taking to my writing again will force me to do a near impossible feat: enjoying the moment as it happens. So... here's me trying.

I am in Hong Kong, a city of constant sound and movement. I'm sitting in my garden, listening to the birds sing as they sway in the branches. They appeared in the spring and haven't left, they act as my constant companions. The air is thick with moisture, so much so I feel as if I just slathered myself with cream - but it's cut by a soft breeze coming from the hills. I smell sawdust and concrete, garlic and fresh laundry. The neighbors downstairs are playing music - the tinkling of an old piano loved over several generations.

I'm sticky and sweaty from the July heat, so I'll end here. Thanks for listening.

Heirlooms: Spooning in WWII

In a world of planned obsolescence and instant gratification, I find immense pleasure in people that have an acute appreciation for history. While over for tea (yes, very British I know) my friend James told me the story about these spoons that he inherited.

His grandmother worked in the RAF as a nurse during WWII and was charged with counting and sorting the silver every night. Apparently, 41 spoons is just as bad as 39 and one night she was instructed to get rid of the additional spoon. She ended up taking it home with her.


The other spoon belonged to his grandfather, which he had engraved with his initials and carried throughout the war. He ended up wounded, sent to RAF hospital and fell in love with a beautiful nurse that ended up taking care of him for the rest of his life.

Two generations later, the matching spoons have found their way to Hong Kong and are kept safe and used often.

I'm always fond of keeping and using things with a past history, especially when it involves the people you love. It makes life richer, more dynamic and also makes you appreciate the lives of those that came before you. I hope that my life story echos that of the silver spoons; and that perhaps one day my great-granddaughter will use an article of mine steeped in love and history.

Thank you James for sharing your wonderful story, I wish you luck with your recent engagement.

The Little Tree That Could

Living in a new city, especially such a vibrant metropolis like Hong Kong has encouraged me to open my eyes a little more. I realized that people almost naturally look at the pavement when they walk, instead of keeping their head up and looking around.

I've been making a point to look up, which has allowed me to see the richness and depth that this city has to offer. For example, while walking down towards Soho I saw this magnificent tree, growing out of the wall at a extreme angle - a tree with gumption, ambition and personal resolve who said "Hmmmm... I'm going to puts roots down here."

It's become my local hero of sorts, as it reminds me that when you've put your mind to it - anything is possible. I walk past it everyday and it reminds me of the goals I have yet to reach and the dreams I've yet to pursue.

Caroline Myss once said that "You cannot change anything in your life with intention alone, which can become a watered-down, occasional hope that you'll get to tomorrow. Intention without action is useless." The little tree that could looks down on me some days, as says "my very existence stems on me holding myself up, having built a strong root structure... I've endured typhoons and I'm still growing and prospering... what have you done today?"

The Little Tree That Could allows me to dream big...
and then provokes me to act on my compulsions.

Anything is possible when you've built the right
foundation that you can depend on.

Moving to Hong Kong

You're thinking to yourself, does this girl ever stay in one place? Seattle, Prague, London, Dubai, Shanghai, Bangkok, Sydney... and now Hong Kong. Difference is I'm moving to this New York of the East and so far I'm loving every minute of it.

I spent the last couple of days roaming the crowded yet colorful streets, tasting the local noodles and marveling at the cool collection of skyscrapers and old colonial buildings. I love that it's a city on the harbor, that the sky darkens with the torrential downpours (I love rain, must come from my days in Seattle) and that the transit system is fast, cheap and reliable.

I'll keep you guys posted on my progress, but just wanted to share the news and also post a photo of the amazing view. Hi from HongKong. =D