Indie Jones walk in Hong Kong.

Today I was frusthursad, which is the brilliant combination of frustration, hurt and sadness. It stems from being hurt about something, frustrated that there's not much you can do about it and then having sadness creep into your heart like damp mold. Needless to say, not fun.

I left the house, in search of a sanctuary, a temple of peace or a place of quiet contemplation. Looking up and down the hill, I surveyed the high-rises packed like sardines and decided to ascend to the Peak and go for a quiet walk with me, myself and I. 



Taking a red cabbie, I closed my eyes as the car swayed through the hair-pin turns. It doesn't help that the driver thinks he's the Chinese Michael Schumacher. 55 HKD later I'm amongst the crowds of Chinese mainlanders following their color-coordinated tour guides.

Dodging the tourists, I weaved through the ruined photo-ops and dipped into the small lane which started the trek around the crown of the hill. It as already a few degrees cooler, although in Hong Kong that means that you're slightly damp instead of completely drenched, and I, ladies and gentlemen, am not the type of woman who sweats. 

Walking through the jungley vegetation, I started to breath a little easier, my heart didn't pound as much and I became a little less agitated. Just a little. But being up there near the clouds, listening to the crickets and disregarding the patchwork of skyscrapers, vertical slums and shopping malls below - I felt so far away from everything. That was a good feeling.


With the sun dipping low in the horizon, I came upon a platform with a wrought iron bench overlooking the sea and hills of thick, tropical forest. The deepness of the greens and the chaos in the landscape reminded me of Indonesia, of place that Indie Jones would venture to for the promise of treasure.

I sat there until it got so dark I couldn't write in my small purple journal anymore. I sat there longer, breathing in the clean(ish)air, listening to the stillness and appreciating the small miracles I was previewed to. There was the young Chinese couple who talked so intently to each other, so in love and so wrapped up in their conversation they didn't notice my presence. There was the dog who wore booties on his walk, the elderly British couple tearing out the evasive vine species they didn't particularly like. It was a beautiful, calm and rejuvenating few hours.

Calm and rejuvenating enough to get through the rest of the day. Almost. 


GREAT-FUL /ˈgrātfəl/

grate·ful/ˈgrātfəl/
Adjective: Feeling or showing an appreciation of kindness; thankful




My mother is right. That in any situation, showing or expressing gratitude is a noble way to remember who we are and find peace in our hearts. 

I am so very grateful for a lot of things. 

  • I am grateful to have such a wonderful, loving family. 
  • I am grateful for my mother, who brings much love and joy and who reminds me that I am never alone. 
  • I am grateful for my twin sister who brings a mirror for me to see myself through and who reminds me that I am never alone. 
  • I am grateful for my little sister, who warms my heart and who reminds me that I am never alone. 
  • I am grateful to have such wonderful friends. They are all over the world, but I am glad to see that friendship has no boundaries.  
  • I am grateful to have a flexible job which brings in money.
  • I am grateful that I don't depend on anyone. 
  • I am grateful to be in good health. 
  • I am grateful that I'm not a ugly club-foot hag with an affection for garlic. 
  • I am grateful to be a citizen of a first-world country. 
  • I am grateful that I have a first-class education that I can fall back on. 
  • I am grateful that my creator made me strong enough to handle anything he throws my way. 
  • I am grateful, that after all, I still love myself. And always will.

Looking to the horizon.




The skies are painted the color of summer blueberries, stretching to the horizon like a canvas and buttoned tightly at the seams. It kisses the sea, spilling aquamarines and emeralds into the calm waves as they rise and fall with the tides. The sea and its mysteries have always heighted my senses while leaving me in my own thoughts – the contents of which, as of late, churn like the foamy waters reaching for the shore.

The sun, not to be left out, has flooded the rugged landscape with hot, golden light that captures the warmth of the coral-browns, the burnt oranges and the warm peaches of the earth. It also has turned my pale skin to the honey-brown of my mother’s heritage.  Although I might feel like a ghost, at least I don’t look like one.



I’ve been looking out at that horizon, watching the sky kiss the sea when the sun rises;  a long, loving and embracing kiss that completes a circuit, making them one - entangled but distinct, contrasting but complimentary, like two trees, growing together but never overshadowing the other.  This vast space where the heavens meet the earth prompted me to hum a song in my head:

Ooh Baby, you know what it’s worth?
Ooh heaven is a place on earth.
They say in heaven, love comes first.
Let’s make heaven a place on earth.

Love comes first. My thoughts on these words moved with the ocean, cresting with the breaking waves and spilling out across the sands. A sage once told me that life can be boiled down to two choices we make repeatedly: choices made in fear or in love.  Love builds, strengthens, enjoys, tastes, experiences and embraces. Fear destroys, angers, frustrates, suspects, distorts and disappoints.  It seems like an easy choice here – but the catch is that making choices from love requires us to be brave, requires us to open our hearts and minds and requires us to question the unknown.  But we fear the unknown.

It’s easier to make choices from fear because they are somewhat comforting. You already know what you’re going to get. The risks have been measured and accounted for, the outcome has already been predicted and like fools we trade in our dreams for a pittance. (Me included). Fear is sitting on the shoreline, afraid of venturing out into the open ocean because you think nothing can possibly exist past that blue-gray horizon. Rigid, unmoving land is much safer. But it’s rigid and unmoving.

In heaven, so the song says, love comes first – and where the heavens embrace the seas I see a blue-gray line that joins, includes, encompasses, forgives and celebrates.  I’ve made a mental note to print out a photo of that horizon and carry it with me. Why? Because after I leave this place I will return to the noise and distractions of my semi-charmed life, and I want to remember that I must find my own horizon and explore and embrace its infinite possibilities.



Thank you Olivia for including me.
Thank you Konrad for listening and our walk to nowhere.
Thank you, Olivia’s Mom, for  reminding me that a simple, full and happy life feels just as good as it looks. You inspired us all.
Thank you Mama, for your kindness, compassion and unconditional love.
Thank you Estelle for calling me when I needed you most (but was too afraid to ask).



Hello. Remember me?


This month, I'll be celebrating my 10-year high school reunion in the Island of the Gods. I'm not feeling the usual apprehension about seeing my peers and measuring our accomplishment against each other - perhaps it's because I've never really felt in competition with anyone. (And when you have a genetic duplicate, trust me, it's a hard discipline to keep. People will compare away... but luckily Danie and I have always avoided such conflicts). 

I'm excited because it's revisiting the part of my life that I remember most fondly. The late-night conversations over Martabak Manis and Teh Botol, going to the cinema in Pondok Indah Mall for Rp 14,000 and going bowling at Garuda (before it burned down in the riots). Ahhhh yes, compared to the kids in the Big Durian now, we enjoyed how truly ghetto Jakarta was in the 90's. 

All this reminiscing reminded me about a few semi-serious things that I wanted to share with you. I feel that although we have the demands of today, we can't let real life slip by. We can't allow ourselves to be distracted by the small tasks that won't matter a year from now, a decade from now  - because before you know it, the game is up, the show is done, the curtain closes. The ten-year event is a special chapter in my book of life - a celebration yes, but also  a reminder about the passing of time.

During a midnight walk this evening, I thought to myself about what made me truly happy in life - and I re-remembered that it's always been the small things. Tea with friends, love letters, road trips, home-made jam, Christmas's where Danie hides the cinnimon rolls, reading thick books, farmer's markets and writing. I love writing.

Sorry for the radio silence my friends. Let's get to writing again... I'll send you more short articulations throughout the week. 

And for you dragons out there, I'll see you in Bali. 

Naga! Naga! Naga!
Riani

Two Seven.


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.





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