reneeswing

[reneeswing]

Once Upon a Time in Bali

In 2022, I spent my December in the island of Bali, Indonesia. For a person coming from cold and dark Europe, Archipelago’s warm and humid air cures my depressive PTSD and shields me from another round of influenza outbreak at home. People might have been familiar with the generic scenery of Southeast Asia, especially as this edge of the world have been subjected to the Kingdom of the Netherlands for centuries: white sandy beaches shape up the heaven on earth, and there is always abundance of palm trees. What Europeans once considered an exotic colonial excursion, remains exotic; now it transforms itself into a recreational refuge for the same group of beneficiaries. Better yet, it may well be one last Utopian sanctuary for people who become wanderlust in their own universe. So you would imagine seeing girls in their swimming suits lying on those white beaches, and boys showing off their chiselled abs on their surfing boards. 

What you don’t see in Bali from those tourist pictures? 

But of course, Bali has more than one faces; and it is those out-of-extraordinary faces that are worth probing, gazing at and pondering over. In Bali, only at the southern tip of the island, on the side of Indian Ocean, are there white sandy beaches. On a good north part, Balinese beaches are signified by black sands, these are volcanic ashes from sacred Mountain Agung and Mountain Batu. As Islam to Java and Sumatra, Hinduism is the paramount religion in Bali. Among other Gods, they worship the famous Shiva and Ganesha. Balinese women always wear garments covering their shoulders and knees. As islanders, of course they go swimming in the ocean, but barely would you see them lying on the beach in bikini’s.

Every morning, you wake up with the aroma of the incense. Opening the door, you’ll find an Hindu offering: Canang Sari placed at your doorstep. As you try catching the silhouette of the smoke, the ladies has already prayed for the blessings of their household. They might be pious in religious believes, but local Balinese do not practice yoga. In the yoga town as famous as Ubud, it is flooded with foreigners. The expats chant Sanskirt in their stretch yoga paints, order ginger shot with chia seeds pudding, sometimes even complain the servants behind the bar could not understand their English, while the locals are hidden in the plain sights of those heaven-like utopian yoga studios.  Even though struggling at understand those complicated orders, they still carry the most beautiful grin and purest kindness on their faces. 

What I am doing in Bali?

My trip to Bali has a mission: my volunteer project at North Bali Reef Conservation, restoring the coral reef that was damaged by manmade excavation. As I set off the journey and plunge myself into the fishing village in North Bali, the image of Bali emerges into vivid faces. Through the interaction with these vivid faces, my Balinese memory is immersed in the warmth and care that I have not been experienced for many years.

Tianyar, is the destination, a village with broken roads, where children at age of 11 have already learnt to ride a scooter. Roosters never stop crowing and dogs bark around the clock. It is in Tianyar, I got to know that Geckos also chirp, and they are one of the most chatty bunch. But after all, what impresses me the most is still the people: the fishermen, the kids and the volunteers from all over the world.

In Tianyar, fishermen know how to dive and they work with international volunteers to restore damaged coral reefs. On the project, I joined the local crew to build artificial reef structures using cement, then we dove to place the reef structures onto the barren seabed, 10 meters under the sea level spreading around 1km. When the artificial reefs were placed and piled, hopefully nature would run its course: microbes and corals grow back and fishes lay eggs onto the structures, hence the ecosystem would restore to its healthy state gradually as it used to be. For merely 1km of distance, it has taken the project 5 years of time for the restoration work. 8000 structures have been built and the number is still counting; there remains a lot of works to do, miles to go before we sleep. When cruising the area under the water, I could see obvious changes to the previously damaged seabed. Head-sized brain corals have grown on these artificial reefs, fluorescent fishes flap around and with us. Seeing these positive natural responses, I was so convinced that all the hard works were worthwhile.  

The volunteers are a curious pack of people coming from all around the world. Interestingly, many people I met during my tenure were Europeans. I might have run away from Europe during the holiday season, but I didn’t escape Europeans. Yet, they are also not quite the same as those back at home. Most of them are Gen Z kids doing their gap year, on their first out-of-Europe trip since Corona. Some have spent months in Asia, or even exclusively on this project. Surely young kids are not the only character in this group. I’ve met corporate executives who once solo travelled through Siberia on motorcycles, social workers and other professionals in their 40s, who have decided starting their life adventure all over again. No matter how old they are, I’ve witnessed pure form of altruism from these people, and their immense love for the ocean. Their eyes sparkled, when they talked about the marine animals in the ocean. They were also caring and reliable. When we went under water for deployment mission, we became guardians to one another, we were buddies. Should there be any issues with the diving equipment, we counted on each other to be the safety net. 

The nature is loving, but it is also ruthless. The ocean is never tamed and doesn’t always pick its moment to accommodate our work. Sometimes, during deployment, we were not even able to stay properly buoyant, because the waves and currents went in every direction. So we had to monitor everyone in our proximity. To this day, I still remember the massive current during my first deployment, the visibility was low as the sands were all stirred up. I was practically a balloon out of control, as I failed to maintain my buoyancy. Whoever passing by me, tried to calm me down, using sign language to guide me make proper adjustment to my setting. Thanks to them, I went through my first mission and went back to shore safely with the team. I figured if you could trust a person under the water, big chance you could trust them in life. Those kids, though decade junior to my age, they are my trustworthy diving buddies down there in the ocean.

The breeze rustles from the ocean, this is how I will remember about everything in Tianyar: underneath the water in turquoise colour, the sound and the colour, everything is distorted to its own form. With the bubbles coming from every exhale, I was immersed in the state of serenity.   

Yayasan the school and the children

Local NGO also established an after school for the children in the village. Volunteers come here to be English teachers in this school named Yayasan. Classes are held everyday between 3 and 5 pm, kids’ age ranges from 6 all the way to 16 years old. Whenever I wrapped up my work in the afternoon, I would join the teacher squad to help with teaching, sometimes also dancing with the kids. 

The last week during my stay, the weather became extremely rough, non-stop rain on top of feisty gusts. The wind and the choppy water flushed all the plastic wastes to the shore. Seeing the ugly truth, nobody would be unimpressed by the pain that we human have inflicted on the ocean. Camiel and Chloe, two volunteers I have befriended here. I helped them create a curriculum on plastic ocean. After school, we also organised the class to collect plastic wastes on the beach. By showing the damages first hand, we tried to demonstrate to the local kids how non-degradable plastic goods were hazardous to marine animals and to our own health.

Bali, as beautiful as a heaven on earth, the islanders are also rather reckless with excess use and disposal of plastics. In the remote villages like Tianyar, wastes and recycles are not collected centrally. Instead, villagers burn everything in their garbage including plastics, which results in an unpleasant odour in the air daily, or plastic carcass lifelessly lying on the roadsides. Though teaching the kids about plastic damages, We weren’t sure how much we could change the villagers’ behaviour immediately. Through the lessons and the beach tour, we hoped to plant a seed in the kids’ mind and the changes might come from within. 

Every Thursday afternoon is when Yayasan kids say goodbye to the teachers who finish up their volunteer journey and leave soon. there is a series of performance on the school playground by the children to show their appreciation to their teachers. They have all learnt some pop music choreographies, among which the most popular one is Shakira’s Waka Waka. Almost every boy and girl know the move and love dancing to the music. Some girls would also perform traditional Balinese dances. Balinese dance is one of the most precious cultural heritages from the island. By the way, for people who are new to Balinese culture, if you must know one thing or two about Bali, you cannot miss out the Kecak dance by the cliff of Uluwatu at the sunset. It is intriguing, bewildering yet powerful. Seeing Yayasan girls dancing, Even though they do not perform with the same level of sophistication, I was equally smitten by their authenticity; especially the movement of their fingers and gazes, as if they have learnt to dance before they could walk. After the school performance, children would swarm toward their teachers for hugs and tears, a scene that always brought me to tears. Most of the gifts were sweet treats which you could imagine, the children have been saving up from their daily rations, no matter how much people from west would have thought of them as unhealthy snacks for toddlers and teenagers. 

My favourite chef and life in the camp

All the volunteers living together in the camp, the Booboo House, consists of simple bungalows and bunkbeds. The camp is divided into teachers squad and marine squad, with each has its own chef and crew. I was part of the marine squad, God knows how much I loved this name; it sounded as if we were the tougher bunch. 7 o’clock every day, our chefs and the family come to the camp and start their morning routine. Enter Yanti and Mongu, together with two lovely kids, Tantri and Ranga, some of my favourite people in the camp. Not only because they always served us with delicious Balinese dishes and saved food for me even when I was back in the camp very late, also because Yanti and I shared our secrete affection for Korean dramas. One day, when no volunteers playing western music on the speaker, Yanti put out her music collection and voila, BTS was in the house. We found each other in our love for Korean actor: Hyun Bin, who was also considered the country’s national treasure in Korea. Ever since, the bond became stronger. Even after I finished up my project and left the camp, Yanti still texted me and wished me eventually find my Mr. Hyun Bin in real life. Isn’t that a beautiful ambition? lol… 

If you think the nights in the village is quiet, you are mistaken. As the night falls, the choir of roosters start their performance. When I lied in my bungalow, I could easily tell 5 of them were in the vicinity, while the other 20 were lining up in three layers, uncoordinatedly chanting. They were never alone making the sound. Even with my most whimsical imagination, a karaoke bar would have been the last possible thing to expect in Tianyar. But they do exist. Near the street entrance to Booboo house, there is a club/ karaoke bar. Regardless which day of the week, music travelled far to our camp and it just lasted. Thinking Tianyar a faraway place, I completely underestimated the villagers’ passion for party.  There were also dogs who woke up before the sun did. They started chasing around each other and never kept it to themselves. So the first few nights were hard for me to fall asleep. Everything happened all at once, like the music notes coming from the same Philharmonic. However, curious thing happened: I integrated really well; one week later, I slept like a log every night ever since. Well, I figure that’s how we human adapt to our environment. 

My third week in the camp, Christmas was around the corner. Although pine tree is nowhere to be found on the island, we do have abundant palm trees. One particular sunny Thursday afternoon leading up to Christmas, all the volunteers worked together to prepare for the celebration. We built an odd-looking yet extremely creative Christmas tree out of palm tree leaves. Without having fancy Christmas balls, we used the same big leaves making origami ornament, from flowers to birds, from stars to ingots. Finally on Christmas day, Maria Carey was singing “all I want for Christmas” around the camp, we got to enjoy a three-course meal with chocolate mousse as dessert (of course made by our favorite chefs with love), followed by secrete Santa for gift exchange, funny group dances and handmade gingerbread contest.

This has been the best of times, and the most memorable Christmas for my years of wanderlust. Till today, I still miss the taste of that lush chocolate mousse.  

The morning glow and the grin on Fisherman’s face

Did I tell you Tianyar is a fisherman’s village? This also means we got to board the fish boat and chase for the sunrise. It was 5:30 in the morning, the crescent moon was still hanging high up in the north. The fisherman set the engine and we began to sail eastbound. As we proceeded, the sky start glowing into a pallet with rich colours, from navy blue to violet, then turned into a whole spectrum of warm orange, like a burning fire. “The sun is on the rise, we have to speed up”, said our fisherman. 

Our fisher man is called Wayan, evidently he is the oldest son in his family. Aren’t you curious how I got to know it? Here is a bit Balinese name 101. In traditional Balinese families, there are only four names. The name of the first born is Wayan or Putu, the next down the line is Made, followed by Nyoman, and then Ketut. If the family has more than 4 children, then the 5th one will become Wayan II, and so on so forth. To this day, most Balinese people still keep this tradition, like our fisherman. Please meet Wayan. Sitting face to face with him, I could see this purple glow on Wayan’s face; there was a grin too. Morning breeze coming with the salty taste, the water splashed while the engine slithering the waves. He got this, this was his stage, all the lime lights are centred on him. As my thought travelled, the scenery just reached its climax. Wayan stood up which rocked the boat slightly, and he pointed to direction far ahead, “look look, lumba-lumba”. He gesturing forward with excitement, we were all confused and couldn’t comprehend his words that could be either Bahasa or Balinese. Until in a split second, we saw a pod of dolphins hopping out of the water joyfully. On this golden canvas, Mountain Agung quietly stayed in the background for those beautiful mammals jumping in loops one after another. We were the luckiest, blessed to see this marvel in harmony; all the cheering was in the air. My feet dipping in the warm sea, I was overwhelmed by the love of nature in December Bali.

Time to go back to shore, everyone was in a good mood. Wayan was also chanting with us; but he was not so stunned by my proud photoshoot capturing the sun, the mountain and the dolphins in one frame. In the end, he sees this scenery almost daily, this has always been part of his life.

It is an interesting riddle, isn’t it? For me, this was a hard-earned moment of tranquillity, I had to work a full time job and fly thousands of miles to see it. Whereas for Wayan, our fishermen, they might not have the “middle-class” comfort in life, but they get to relish this view every day or whenever they feel like it. Up to whom to tell which life is better? We don’t know better.

Time to visit the Temple

The New Year’s Eve was around the corner, it was my cue to finish the project and leave Tianyar. Meanwhile, it was also the three-day count-down to the biggest celebration in Bali: Galungan and Kuningan, according to the islanders’ Pawukon calendar. This is a 7-day religious festival when Balinese people pay tribute to their passed ancestors, who are believed to return home and bless their people. Penjor, curvy bamboo poles decorated with offerings and tassels stand on the sides of every street across the island, imitating a ladder rising from the earth to connect with the celestial heaven. 

Balinese families have so much to prepare for the ceremonies, making offerings, praying in the temples, cleansing with sacred water and tomorrow do it all over again. During the season, their days started from 3 am, when I heard chanting coming from village temples, smelled the burning incense slipping through the edge of my door. Time for me to visit the Hindu temples, and I wanted to do it in style. 10 o’clock in the morning, the sun could not wait to show off its sparkle brightness, one would get toasted if exposed under it for longer than 5 minutes. But no real Balinese shied away, everyone on the street wore traditional sarong, women with matching lace kebaya while men were suited with painted kamben shirts and hairbands, called Udeng. The wax dyeing technique in this part of the Archipelago could trace back centuries ago, it owns its world-renowned name called “Batik”. To this day, international artists are still intrigued and inspired by its intricate craftsmanship. 

I myself was all dressed up in traditional sarong, because my driver, Santri has kindly agreed to secretly smuggle me into the temple in his village. Well, with my tanned skin complexion resulted from marine work, I might blend in just fine, even pass as a local, as long as I didn’t answer any questions or spit any word. Santri’s mother and the family were all there to greet me. Very soon, some uncle from the village gave me this scanning look; then he turned around to chat with Santri. They both ended up giggling in the language that I had minimal knowledge of. But I was not completely oblivious. Judging by the boy’s sudden facial blushing, I figured the uncle has mistaken me as Santri’s betrothed. It must have been an innocent joke, but I also didn’t see anyone denying it, whereas I was just incapable of doing so. Well, as long as it got me into the temple, I didn’t mind a bit of theatrics. I just had to wing it.

The temple consists of sacred shrines in bright colours, all dedicated to Hindu Gods and the villagers’ ancestors. Surrounded by bamboo Penjors, the central piece of the terrace was piled with offerings from pious believers. Women and men all in uniform sarong, they gathered to perform the ritual and pray for a good year to come. On one side of the temple terrace, I saw some piglets and chickens wearing red ribbons, were strapped to the poles. Santri told me those farm animals would be sacrificed at the end of the ritual. It went without saying, I was extremely interested in both the religious and secular aspects of Galungan. In the meantime, I respected their ancient traditions, to the extent that I couldn’t agree with the backward aspect that animals were still slaughtered in religious rituals today.

Eventually I figured this was part of the journey. As much as I was amazed by the cultural originality, there might also be something that I detested of. With all the conspicuous temple colours and a mixed feeling, I wrapped up my temple visit on the eve of Galungan. 

The local entrepreneurs and friendly faces

Bali is a place for a vibrant entrepreneur community. My time in Bali makes me realise one thing, one thing that business school forgot to teach me: a business is a business. It doesn’t always have to be disruptive or blue ocean for a business to succeed. During my time here, I met so many local entrepreneurs full of passion for their brand. My encounter with them was exceptionally inspiring.

Pithecanthropus is a Balinese brand that sells garments and textile products. The brand is also dedicated to preserve ancient wax dyeing technique and aesthetic culture of Indigenous ethnicities. The owner is a gentleman named Bobby, who founded Pithecanthropus 25 years ago. He and the team have been cruising every corner of the Archipelago searching for cultural artefacts from the villages and the tribes. For instance, They are trying to preserve the iconic dyeing method: Batik, originated in Java and thrived in Bali. In their shop, I found a good collection of sarongs, the motif on which are the remake of the antiquate Batik techniques; there were also the cap stamps, made of coppers with intricate motif designs, and arrays of antique textiles collected around the islands.

During my trip, I ran into the premiere of their private textile exhibition from 19th century southern Sumatra, called Muara. The exhibition was held in an ancient wooden mansion that Bobby shipped from Sumatra and re-erected brick by brick. When Balinese sun beaming through the tainted glasses in this 18th century house, my train of thought followed those artefacts going back in time. The textiles on display were embodiment of an era when the islands and the surrounding water bodies became the integral outpost of various trading routes, those arrays of patterns and colours testified the rise and fall of the sultanates and colonists, witnessed the ebbs and flows of both religious and secular societies. In yesteryear, merchants bartered spices for Chinese gold threads; craftsman then applied them boldly on the garments to demonstrate prosperity. In contrast, indigo colours were broadly used in inland implying moderacy. The name of the exhibition “Muara” meant ‘delta’; it suggested, the ornate textiles symbolised a terrain where all those ancient cultural relics converged, the Japanese, the Chinese, the Dutch, as well the Indians and the Arabs. 

Throughout my visit in the gallery, I was accompanied by a lovely lady, Tania. Fluent in English, she showed me her passion and aesthetic taste in Indonesian diverse culture. A college student majoring in nutrition and dietetics, she studies at the largest university in Bali: Udayana University. She worked at the exhibition as a part-time narrator during her holiday break from school. After my visit, we also spoke about her study in nutrition. I confided with her my observation that in Bali, there seemed lack of healthy snacks in the supermarkets and toko’s (local shops) for children; and she shared with me how she would like to use her knowledge making social changes in the future. 

Room4Dessert, hidden in the uphill north of Ubud, is the kitchen that once won the world’s Best Pastry Chef Award. But this was a knowledge for me in the hindsight. When everyone else arrived in a scooter or taxi, I walked. And that night, I managed to squeeze into the last solo seat, when everyone else made a reservation 2 months ahead. What could I say, I was a lucky bunny. All the guests were foreign looking, whereas most of the restaurant staff were of friendly local faces. As I only intended to take a Cappuccino and one piece of cake in this ‘patisserie’, I was completely oblivious that the restaurant only served a 12-course set menu of desserts. 12 desserts instead of one piece of cake? Just as I debated my decision, a sudden rainfall stormed to the street and I had to stay. In retrospect, I was glad that the timely rain made the decision for me, as there was always room for dessert. 

Being a solo guest, I was led to sit at the bar together with two other strangers. The trio began to exchange gauche pleasantry. The restaurant bar had a semi-open-air setting, with one open side facing its own organic garden. Considering Bali’s tropical climate, it was not uncommon. The rain continued to rage, while the wind joined the party, began to blow the humidity toward people at the bar. The space was full of sounds, the water, the wind, the cling-clang sound in the open kitchen and the subtle music edging between Jazz and something else. I was distracted by the orchestra, when a Caucasian looking guy came and greeted me. “I kinda like the big storm, it is beautiful, isn’t it?” This man with convincing tone was Will Goldfarb, the mind behind Room4Dessert. The pastry chef and the founder, together with Room4Dessert, they featured in Netflix’s series Chef’s Table in 2018. Wow, I bumped into some a famous place. 

The entire dinner was an immersive experience. I was fully concentrated on the waiter’s introduction of each course: the ingredients harvested from the very organic garden, and their interesting combination, the plate setting and the handmade placemat underneath them, all reflected the team’s creativity: juxtaposing, putting elements together for originality. The three solo guests, who were total strangers, turned into three musketeers bound by this gastronomic enlightenment.

Later when the rain got gentler, I was led to tour around the organic garden, my tour guid was also my concierge of the night, Ayu, a lovely lady from Bali, who also invited me to come back and visit their even larger organic farm behind the restaurant. 

The next day, the sun shined bright again, I went back to visit the farm with the garden manager, Felicia. Unlike Ayu, Felicia comes from Java Island. Aspired to be a pastry chef, she left home and started working in Bali during Covid. However at Room4Dessert, she wasn’t hired as a pastry chef, instead, she is now managing the business around the organic farm. While strolling around the farms, she was telling me all the fun facts about this place, how to distinguish lemongrass from citronella, what is her favourite nutty ingredient called Kenari. And I returned the favour by telling her in West, how the concept of organic farms has turned into a prevalent social movement, as people desperately looked for sustainability solutions.

I often believe people find their path in the strangest way. This is how life usually turns out to be: an ambitious pastry apprentice, becomes a versatile principal managing an organic farm.

All the inspiring local businesses, all those lovely story-telling faces. It was such an easy thing to connect with them. Now almost 2 months later, those flashbacks of remembrance keep me warm. As I duck in the cold European winter, I am especially craving for the Balinese friendliness like nowhere else. 

The earthquake and the stray dog in Uluwatu 

To conclude my journey to Bali, I also couldn’t miss out some of the less appealing experiences. Chapter 0: Earthquakes. Three days into my camp life in Tianyar, we were enjoying our leisure time after work. All of a sudden, I felt a very strong tremor from underground. Before I realised it was a real earthquake, the local staff dropped everything in hands, raised both arms in the air and started praying, murmuring words that I couldn’t make sense. This amazing island, called Bali, it is also under all sorts of seismic hazards, from earthquake, to tsunami, then to volcanic eruption. Most of the volunteers have never had any direct earthquake experience, except for my friend, Jillian, who lives in Tokyo Japan and helped us to make sense of everything when the tremor started. Luckily after a few noticeable shocks, the quake stopped. The locals went to check the sea level. Since the camp literally was situated on the beach, they wanted to eliminate the probability of tsunami, the strong indicator of which was the sea vacuumed away from the shore.

After the initial shock, people with experiences tried to provide solace to us, explained that tsunami would only be triggered if the earthquake lasted for a significant period of time. And this one was just the earth releasing its pressure routinely. In case there was a tsunami alert in time, we would have had at least 2 hours to run toward the higher altitude, which was around 5km away from us.

The news came out a few hours later: it was a magnitude 5.6 quake where the epicentre was in the middle of Bali Sea, 20km north to our village. Well, although a routine tremor, it did render some of us no longer an earthquake virgin.

Enticed by the Kecak dance performance on the cliff, I had a short stay in Uluwatu, a beach town along Indian Ocean, famous for its rock caves and surfing culture.

Sunday morning, as I was climbing down the cave leading to Suluban beach, an emaciated dog caught my eyes. She was scavenging for the Canang offerings, while an old man came over helping her open up the plastic wraps around the foods. This gentleman owns a warung (local eatery) near the beach. He started telling me that he has spotted many stray dogs lately. During past two years of lockdown, as many foreigners relocated to Bali temporarily, they also adopted dogs to keep them company. Now that the world went back to norms, those foreigners left; and unfortunately, their pets were abandoned. This dog has been lingering on the beach for days. Struggled to find enough food, she became extremely skinny. As we spoke, she kept looking up at the ladders to the beach, as if she was hoping her master would have come back for her. Tears poured out my eyes when I saw her gaze into the air. I joined the old man looking for fresh water for the dog. Garbage lied around in the cave, including a deserted coconut shell, but no drinkable water at sight. It occurred to me I still got half bottle of water in my bag. I took it out and poured the water into a container in front of her, she began to voraciously devouring the water.

Bali, just like every other beautiful things in this world, its existence is undeniably sublime, but it also carries cruelty in its true colour. And for me that very last bit included makes it an unforgettable journey to bookend my 2022.

C’est fini.

[reneeswing]

改变2020

因为这个专栏，专门找出来自己十几年来写过的文字，有些甚至都还是手稿。在辗转搬了那么多次家之后，竟依然静静的躺在扉页里，等着我在记忆中都搜索不到那些片段时，在眼前出现。少年锦时，笔触虽常显稚嫩，但却有着比现在的自己更多的清朗和通透。边看着我边想着，是不是自己反而越活越糊涂，很有意思。手边掉出来一张泛黄的信纸，上面附着一片红色枫叶，落款停在2005年的夏天。信纸上是自己当年依然娟秀的字迹，写着改变的一首老歌：黄舒骏 改变1995。 兴起之下，重新编写，献给风云变化的2020 年。 离开中国的第11年 世界如常的迎来送往 科比和女儿魂归Calabasas山间 只是这世界谁都不缺 那生命中过从了许多美错的星星点点 我最喜欢的那一个人至今还没出现 小哥玉清送你离开千里之外 而我在夜里唱着波希米亚狂想曲为Freddie泪散 歌坛鬼才奇士接踵而至 而我却只听声曲不完整的爵士老调 恍惚之间宿人几度 暮然又一年哥哥的愚人忌日 所有女生都跟着李佳琦买圣罗兰的口红 我却隔离在家犯愁永远用不完的卸妆油 Avenger终局之战完整了十年的英雄梦 却是新冠病毒弹指之间带���了世间的很多人 而我们没有时间好好的说再见 世界不断的改变改变 我的心思却不愿离开从前 时间不停的走远走远 我的记忆却停在 却停在那2020年

现在我们在网上买牙刷开关电灯泡 想喝咖啡自己做手冲过生日自己烤蛋糕 华晨宇唱着假行僧而我禁闭关了一千零一夜 川普封杀华为司马昭之心昭然若揭 恍然又到美国大选之年 怎样才能让他们知道这世界除了驴象之争还应该有些风花雪月 日不落的帝国终于得偿所愿离开了欧罗巴 只是这场旷日持久的分离终于味同嚼蜡 彩虹旗飘扬在世界各个角落 性别是否也终究成为过气的甄别 北极的冰川还在加速融化 澳洲森林大火持续数月夺走树袋熊的家 世界越来越吵 气候变化越来越真实 空气越来越稀薄 我们被网飞绑架的时间越来越多 书却越看越少 舒马赫终于醒了过来 东京奥运在坚持两月后终于输给了新冠现实 只是费德勒依然勤恳C罗的自律依旧让人自叹不如 奥斯卡上所有人都在小丑的狂喜中看到无止尽的悲怆 奉俊昊用一部寄生虫把社会平等的双关语诠释到极致 世界不断的改变  改变 我的心思却不愿离开从前 时间不停的走远走远 我的记忆却停在 却停在这2020年

美国警察暴力误杀George Floyd 民众于是高举#BlackLivesMatter砸了我心爱的大苹果 台湾依然没有回归 叙利亚依然在战火中挣扎 香港和我们同根同源却遗憾渐行渐远 我安家低洼之国日近八年 心却好像依然在流浪 我过着最朴素的生活 怀着最遥远的梦想 全中国都在歌颂勇敢的逆行者 我在欧洲实践1.5米的社交距离 面对疫情 人类社会在自由与责任之间游弋拉扯 眼不见心却不净世间痛苦莫过于此 我没有成为我以为的那个人但其实也不算太糟糕 我想我下不了地狱也进不了天堂 此生只为活出真实坦白从心所愿 天生我材于是天地都不怕 虽然偶尔心生小小贪念 却不后悔一路选择也不想脱胎换骨卷土重来 属于我们的精彩 篆刻进玲珑记忆里 谁也带不走 我的故事再零落涣散 也不做交换 我忘不了的那个人 那些人 知交零落 来去却不曾徘徊 同龄的我们 终于不再急着长大而是希望时间慢一些再慢一些 终于变成自己生活的英雄 世界不断的改变 改变 我的心思却不愿离开从前 时间不停的走远 走远 25年前有人唱1995 而今我的记忆却停在 却停在这2020年纷扰却明媚的夏初

[reneeswing]

Freedom, however, is not the last word. Freedom is only party of the story and half of the truth. Freedom is but the negative aspect of the whole phenomenon whose positive aspect is responsibleness. In fact, freedom is in danger of degenerating into mere arbitrariness unless it is lived in terms of responsibleness. That's why I recommend that the Statue of Liberty on the East Coast be supplemented by a Statue of Responsibility on the West Coast

Viktore Frankl, “Man’s Searching for Meaning”

[reneeswing]

'Sed omnia praeclara tam difficilia quam rara sunt' (but everything great is just as difficult to realize as it is rare to find) reads the last sentence of the Ethics of Spinoza. You may of course ask whether we really need to refer to "saints". Wouldn't it suffice just to refer to decent people? It is true that they form a minority. More than that, they always will remain a minority. And yet I see thereinthe very challenge to join the minority. For the wolrd is in a bad state, but everything will become still worse unless each of us does his best.

Viktore Frankl, “Man’s Search for Meaning”

[reneeswing]

why art? One of my earliest memories was I was painting a sunflower with my water-colours. somewhere in my little-kid brain, I knew that this perfect sunflower will shrivel up and die one day. but I had the power to preserve it, to immortalize the beauty around me. To save it from the brutality of life. Leonardo Da Vinci said: every painter should begin with a wash of black on their canvas. Because everything in nature is dark, except for where it's exposed by light. Perhaps we are conditioned to begin on a white canvas. But maybe what we need right now is to see the water turning murky, to see the pedals falling. maybe it's through art, that we come to face to face with our own darkness. And that's the only way we could change. i urge you aim not to preserve the beauty, but to expose the truth. Dare to make the world uncomfortable with your honesty, no matter what the consequence is.

M.F.A

[reneeswing]

Things I learnt these days

1. Focus my energy on the things that will get me the best outcome and will have the most impact. 

2. Focus on how I can be in control and grow; develop sensory to better identify things/qualities in another person that doesn't work for you. 

3. Take as much time as I need to get feelings out of my system, do as much I need to move on. It is necessary. 

4. The journey is to make sure that we are able to find self-loving. At the same time, help the other person to grow. But if the other person is not ready, nobody can learn anything from you. 

5. There are not many genuinely good men and women in this world. But many are willing to learn to become one, when they get a chance and they know how. 

6. For all critical reflection, especially in yourself, you should focus on the actionable stuff and park the rest. When it is not actionable, it is probably either not sufficiently clear, or it is just given that you'd be better off accepting them as a fact of life. 

7. There's only one way to master things: trying. If at first you don't succeed, failure maybe your style. 

8. Self-reflection could only take you that far, you need external input to help with the process. The most stupid mistakes are the ones that you make alone. 

[reneeswing]

It was January a few years ago...

I am on my way back from Munich and I recollecte that it has been 10 years since I left behind everything in Shanghai. The Chinese New Year is at a stone’s throw. Even in Munich airport, they offer Chinese citizens an additional 10% discount for any purchases made there. A great gesture if you will. In two days, my Chinese community here in Europe will gather to celerate the year of Roster 7 hours after China turning to a new calendar. 10 year is a great round-up number; it enables a good chance for me to look back and look forward. Other than changing countries and cities, I have been through zillions of happy occassions and a coupld hundreds of struggles. Well, none of them killed me; therefore, they made me stronger. It is a long journey, when I look things in a phase of 10 years, I stop complaining about time flying. It is barely rosy; but it is also not that bad. Sometimes, the entire world is like what’s outside the cabinet right now. Everything is in pitch dark. Only the signal light on the wings gives me a hint of orientation. But I guess in most of the times, we only just need that bit of light to feed you with some hopes, the never-ending hopes, which moves our physical and mental forms forward. I think I am blessed with the capability of reading these metaphors in life. That offers me chance to mock myself and then dance my troubles away. 

There will be another few 10 years in my prime of life; for that I am sure. There will be a time, I am sitting on the rocking chair in my garden, listening to my granddaughter complaining that her life is s***t. I will tell her: Kitten, granny has been there. It might feel like the end of the world; it might really be the case. But you still got to fight against it. And if you are lucky enough not to die, you will appear one day, as beautiful as your granny.  

Back to today: there were pitch dark days in my last 10 years and there will be some more in my future. But there is also days like what this picture states, a beam of sun rising above my open palm. That was the sun of the day when my entire backpack got stollen in Interlaken, Switzerland. I am still the girl daring to dream, to walk on the road less traveled, to shatter into pieces and to reconstitute into someone even better.

Here to me, a girl who never gives up! 

[reneeswing]

Some people choose to see the ugliness in this world. The disarray. I Choose to see the beauty.

Dolores Abernathy, a lead character from Westworld

[reneeswing]

The Joy, The Ridicule and The Hope

Let's rewind: what are the top three advices that have been given to us about COVID-19 prevention: wash your hand, observe social distance and take care of each other. Does that ring the bell that we have learnt all three things since we are in elementary school, if we are ever lucky enough to go to one.

So, I am going to make a bold statement here: most of the life-long lessons that we need for going through life, we’ve learnt them way before advanced educations, regardless of differences in culture, race and geographic locations. Yet, the sad truth is we only seem to spend the remainder of our time forgetting all we have learnt and all we need to remember to overcome this conundrum. If I dig a bit deeper, my basic education have equiped me with way more useful knowledge than what business school and law school have ever tought me. To name a few, geography helps me to navigate through the continents without being laughed at, history and literature offer me perspectives to see and comprehend everything ever happened in this time and this world. Law school and business school, on the other hand, slowly coop up people into a disillusion of elite class, distancing them from what’s actually going on in this insanely biased reality. Don’t get me wrong, I still believe every opportunity of education matters, it emancipates and liberates generations; and if anything, I have been blessed with all sort of way of thinking, coming from each stage of my school years. It is the monotonous perception on education that sometimes misinterprets or overly simplifies its true essence.

Do anyone begin to appreciate the down time of this quanrantine yet? I am not saying this to trivialize the dismal impact of the pandemic; because both our economic and social lives have taken a major toll from this crisis. For those who are alone in this quarantine, they are craving for human contact, the touch, the hug, all the more basic need of being a human; whereas for those who have a full house with multiple children at home, the working day never ends as it is combined with home schooling. This makes people finally realize that their job is their ultimate refuge. One of my friends started to refer to her kids as fantastic beasts, since the third week of the lockdown. This is, in my opinion, one of the best metaphors of the year. Now, this is what I hope: when all this is over, we will eventually appreciate more of our teachers and other educational workers. for us, it is only with our own kids, whereas at school, kids are ganged up on them. They are entitled to fairer reward and respect from all walks of the society.

Like others, my emotion has gone through various stages: at first, I was fairly content with what I’ve got here, a cozy home, abundant toilet rolls and sufficient supply of alcoholic grape juice. Then some kind of obsession started to develop, the bad kind is to slowly transform healthy self-reflection into self-condemnation for something I have done wrong 2,3,5 years ago. And the more time I spent on my devices, the higher level of anxiety incubated. Then, later on, I decided to have a rather lengthy conversation with myself, the righteous thing that I have ever done: committing to my own feelings, compelling myself away from judgement. I learnt to acknowledge them, more importantly, I searched for language and specific words to label them in all the more precise way. Through that exercise, I realized although they appear similarly, the emotion of anxiety is very different from that of sadness; and the exhileration that I was feeling is also different from excitement. When I found out I was able to distinguish those various emotions in me, I felt stress level has already half way gone, I could call the truce with myself. So, something good does come out from this period. When we are not able to go out, we should allow ourselves to go within.  

There are a lot more silver linings. To my recollection over the past 8 years, I don’t rememer any of the Dutch springs is as beautiful as this one. We’ve had sunny and warm weather throughout the month of April. Everyday, I went onto my balcony, let the light beam through my forehead and inhale the most precious fresh air. It is painful to face it that our continents are receding to isolated islands as all the traffics are shut down, but it is also delightful to find that nature thrives when human society hits the PAUSE button. The blue sky is returned to the birds and their flapping wings; waterways turn purer as no more crazy human running around and emitting pollution into them.  Even panda’s resume consummation. For the last 2,3 years, anthropogenic activities have caused large scale bushfires across north and south hemispheres; it happened even in Syberia above the North Pole. Human society is inflicting pains onto the lung of our Mother Earth. Isn’t it an irony that our respiratory system is succumbed to this coronavirus? I couldn’t help but wonder if this pandemic is the nature’s vengeance onto the arrogance of human race? So, here comes my second wish. One day as we come out of this pandemic, our peaceful moments with the nature will stick around a bit longer. Even though I know that humanity is terrible at reckoning with it own sin, I still wish this time, after all we have endured, we will finally learn to return the favour for our Mother Nature’s altruistic love. That we will be more reflective on our own behaviours, the impact that each of us have made onto anything outside of ourselves. You may say I am a dreamer, but I am definitely not and should not be the only one.

......

The world is suffering from its own bipolar disorder. To steer my way clear from the menaces, I rid myself of watching news during the weekends. But one still doesn't make the cut. As for a while, it is the only thing that people couldn't stop talking about: Donald Trump contemplates injecting/ingesting coronavirus patients with disinfectants, until the moment he made the next obnoxious statement. What's even more troubling is there was actually a slight increasing number of ER cases caused by internal administration of chemical solvent. Both New York Times and RB, the producer of Lysol and Dettol, had to make official announcement to talk people out of their desperate craze. One day I woke up and spit out this question: how is it even possibly happening? If B school has ever taught me anything, it is that leadership matters; and I dedicated most of my career contemplating how to be a good (future) leader. But nowadays, we are riding a perfect storm, while sinking down into a chasm called: the scum rises to the top. We are living in a reality that outruns the most ridiculous screenwriting of political drama. Not only have we got Trump assumed the most powerful position in this world, we don't seem capable of appropriating any countermeasures to dampen the damages. Although his strategy is nothing much different from that of a shameless politician: barking up the wrong trees to divert the public's attention further away from criticism against him, the impact however is way too profound to be left alone. He is dividing not only a country, also driving a wedge between friendly countries, when the only hope the world is left with is the hope of solidarity. 

The world is in urgent need of an assertive voice with a kind heart and a pair of potent hands. It cannot be done by one person, rather, has to be a collective conscience of all the human societies. The younger generation does not believe in institutions, they embrace anarchistic believes and have little problem of taking things to its extremity; but in the meantime, they are reasonable, way more objective and fairer than they are being judged or even portrayed. They believe in gender equality, inform themselves of cultural intricacy and they gather to rally for animal rights and climate change. For both reasons, their world needs leaders with integrity and convincing voices. In all appropriate times, we need to learn to be a leader for ourselves and for others. It is up to us how we are going to make our next decision, in giving an opinion, in executing right to vote, in influencing people around us and in doing smallest good deeds to hold onto each other. Here's an example. It is no strange thing to know that our doctors and nurses are working under tremendous physical and mental pressures. We've heard multiple cases in Italy and the US that medical staff committed suicide after virus contraction or nervous breakdown. In almost every country, people are finding ways to demonstrate their gratitude to their guardian angels; however news from India reads that doctors and nurses become target of discrimination, demonising them as virus itself. Similar discriminatory stories surface from time to time around the world against people from other countries or communities because of the pandemic. This shows how far off people could be dangerously biased and misled; the absence of a just and empathetic figure in the leadership attributes to and to a great extent severs the alienation. But we all could and should choose to lead. We can never let our guard down, ignoring any appalling ignorance, even with the slightest carelessness. We need to speak up, protect people who are protecting us and the world's most vulnerable's. We need to do it constantly, consistently and often enough. Bear in mind, our decision and undertaking of today will define our tomorrow in common. 

......

Alright, enough about the grim prospect and grievance. As far as being a hopeless optimist, I will complement my third wish with a faith in humanity after it all. Yesterday, I watched the season finale of Westworld. As Dolores sank down into her memory, she restated: "Some people choose to see the ugliness in this world. The disarray. I choose to see the beauty". I agree with every bit of those words. I believe the key to the sublime lies in ourselves and our conscience. In the end, true bravery is to love the world and humanity, despite the ugliness that we have seen or experienced. 

Before I let you go, I am inviting you to join me in paying tributes to all the essential workers who are risking their lives every day to keep ours running without panics. Next to our lovely doctors and nurses, here's to the infrastructure workers, the train conductors and bus drivers,  the supermarkets' staff, the logistics companies, the mailman, (especially my mailman, who brings me my 1,000 packages to fill the huge void in my soul), the journalists and newsmen, who are running all across the countries, strive to bring us brutal facts, inconvenient truths, disarray and hopes. Collectively you've prevented the world from crumpling, after the mess we made. I thank you for that! 

Please take care and stay healthy!

Love, R

[reneeswing]

Sometimes when I look at you, I feel I'm gazing at a distant star. It's dazzling, but the light is from tens of thousands of years ago. Maybe the star doesn't even exist any more. Yet sometimes that light seems more real to me than anything.

Haruki Murakami

[reneeswing]

The pain of parting is nothing to the joy of meeting again

Charles Dickens

[reneeswing]

A few times in my life, I've had moments of absolute clarity. When for a few brief seconds, the silence drowns out the noise and I can feel rather than think. And things seem so sharp, the world seems so fresh, as though it had all just come into existence. I can never make these moments last. I cling to them; but like everything, they fade. I've lived my life on these moments. They pull me back to the present and I realize that everything is exactly the way it was meant to be. And just like that, it came.

A Single Man

[reneeswing]

I think that my job is to observe people and the world, and not to judge them. I always hope to position myself away from so-called conclusions. I would like to leave everything wide open to all the possibilities in the world

Haruki Murakami

[reneeswing]

He chose to have me in his life... Being chosen is the greatest gift you can give to another human being.

Trevor Noah, “Born a Crime: Stories From a South African Childhood”

[reneeswing]

My Freedom Day

March 12, 2020.

Today is My Freedom Day, named by CNN. I figure everybody has his/her own journey to freedom wherever they are living in this world.

I cannot find a better moment to talk about my growing pains about understanding what freedom means to me, especially at the onset of COVID-19 turns into a global pandemic event.

I have always been a big advocate of freedom, I am living for people's fundamental right to speak freely, to make choices based on their own will. But I did not quite understand what this word actually means to my life, until I moved to New York 12 years ago. I was amazed, in a way even overwhelmed, by how much freedom people have in that society. I have heard everyone, old people, young people saying freedom means they can do whatever they want. Being a person continuously conflict myself between my Chinese nature and my nurtured Western value, I felt that I finally got to understand or even enjoy my own rights: doing whatever I want. But over time, things have changed and I changed. 12 years later, when I held my first ballot ticket in Amsterdam for the general government election, I sensed that I was executing something bigger than my free will. It was the responbility that my freedom entails. With so many years going back and forth, trying to figure out what strikes the right balance in freedom, it finally hits me that day. To me, freedom means you can do whatever you want, only that is half of the truth. The other half is: if you are honoring it with responsibilities, and you do not detriment other people's freedom.

Yes, the second half is equally important as the first one. Your freedom to choose, your freedom to speak comes with responsibilities in equal weight. We should have all known about it and we should let the younger generation learn about it.

Now you may want to ask: why is it relevant to COVID-19 pandemic? That is a fine question! 

Three days ago, Christian Amanpour, a world renowned journalist interviewed Dr. Bruce Aylward in her show. Dr. Aylward is an epidemiologist, serving as the Senior Advisor to WHO Director General. In the past months, he has spent some quality time in China to deal with the coronavirus outbreak. In the show, he confirmed that the situation in China has been largely under control. Other than Hubei province, the rest of the 31 provinces have had drastic decrease in new cases for a longer period. It was all nice to hear him giving credit to how effective Chinese measures were to contain the spreading there, but what struck me more was his appraisal on Chinese people's near altrustic efforts in the past months. Here's what he had to say:

"…What struck me the most, one was that you could control the respiratory disease like that. The other one is the hundreds and hundreds of people that I spoke to, in markets, on planes, in trains, in streets and in hotel. What we heard again and again was just this common sense of fear of what this virus could do to its population, especially the older population. They were worried about that. And a tremendous sense of responsibility, and fear that they could fail in their personal and collective need to stop this thing and protect the world. I heard this again and again from average Chinese, and from doctors and nurses. Well they were not average, I thought they were heroes. I was not hearing these messages from the top, from the government, I was hearing this from the average people. I want to make sure that in all the coverage of this and all the way we talk about the country, we do not diminish the work of everyday heroes. They are very very humane."

These words almost brought me to tears! Yes, because this is what average people in China, for example, my family have done and is still going through in everyday life. Other than in Hubei province where some mandatory quarantine was executed, the majority of the Chinese population was confining themselves from unnecessary activities and executing social distancing on a voluntary basis. 

I must admit that in China, one could never criticize the government's malpractice as the way how Western media does it. Freedom of speech is still in scarcity in China. As a matter of fact, Chinese social media went nuts again recently because an article narrating about one of the initial whistleblowers who exposed the COVID-19 was censored. Netizens went extremely creative to retweet the news in different languages, in reversed scripts or even partially using gibberish in order to dodge the censorship. Moreover, at the heat of the epidemic, the Western media has called the Chinese measures draconian, claimed only an authoritarian regime could go that far to lock up the majority of its population.

But look at what happened in today’s world. If I understood Dr. Aylwood correctly, he stressed that this so-called Chinese approach is not a Chinese invention. It is a proven method of tackling commutable disease that the US CDC has codified for the rest of the world. So the observation is that we human, as a group, are just very bad at learning from old lessons, aren’t we? In merely one month of time, infection started to break out in the entire Europe and North America. We’ve seen these things repeated all over the place, community spreading because of crowd gathering, shortage of testing kits, infection across medical staff and seismic burden on our medical system. Being a person who survived from one quarantine a month ago in Shanghai and now getting into another one, it all sounds too familiar. What truly worries me was the average level of ignornance in the society towards the servere consequences caused by the pandemic. 

With some European cities being locked down by the governments, people were more upset about their freedom being refrained, hence willing to risk other people’s lives. I heard someone saying: it is a flu and only old people could catch it. If they don’t get sick, their lives should not be compromised. There were people partying around the town as part of the protest to the Government’s lockdown decision. This is purely irresponsible and just wrong. Less chance of contraction to COVID-19 DOES not make young people invincible. You could still get sick, and more likely you could infect other people. Even if you are young and healthy, having a higher odds of survival, you could still carry this virus to those who are weaker and more susceptible. Any individual who gets sick at this moment is adding pressures to the already overloaded mecial system and all our dedicated hospital staff. Remember for now, 4% of the medical workers in Noord-Brant, the Netherlands are infected and counting. In Italy, situation is in a worse dismay: overflown patients could only sleep in the hosital corridors. 

We are at the critical turning point of our society. We are dealing with a hostile situation, only that the enemy is invisible. Hypothetically, I don’t think people would have been in the mood for complaining about bar closing, if it was a missile attack in play. But it is equally dire and impactful. If we do not change our attitude of ignornance, it is possible that there would be no party to go to, there would be no business to prosper and there would be no investment to yield. The impact of this pandemic will be much more resounding to our social and economic lives, even after all this is over. 

What comes as a sharp contrast is people’s attitude in China. As Dr. Aylwood said, Beijing managed to mobilize the entire population by immobilizing themselves. The popluation, the people became their entire surveillance system. In a way, the magic bean that China has is its own people: average people around me just have this intrinsic thoughts of selflessness, hoping that temporary quarantine could help to contain the virus in time and more effectively, hence protecting more people who are susceptible and who are in the rest of the world. 

I couldn’t help but wondering, isn’t that just another level of understanding in freedom? People are willingly compromising their freedom of act, with the hope that in this way, they could help to achieve a bigger goal than their own egos: to restore order and welfare in their society. 

What does freedom mean to me? It is a pursuit of freedom at a personal level, but sometimes, it is a pursuit of freedom of the entire human race. When your personal freedom has conflict of interest with that of a bigger population, you make a difficult yet worthy choice. Isn't that what Nelson Mandela did in his 27 years life in prison?

As I was finishing up with this piece, a charter flight carried a group of Chinese epidemiologists and 31 tons of medical supplies arriving in Fiumicino Airport in Rome. In the meantime, China also sent epidemic experts and medical supplies to support Iran and some other countries in a dire situation. These Chinese doctors, before they even have time to recover from their lassitude, they are already onto their next calling. They are the true heroes! And all the medical staff who are fighting day and night on the frontier, they are the true heroes! 

Now, as an average Joe, we cannot do what they do. But we could still do our parts. My dear friends and acquaintances, you have all your rights to make any decisions that you deem fit. All I am asking from you is to take care of yourselves and the people around you, be mindful of all the consequences and empathetic of the situation. Remember in your own time you think that you will never make it a hero? Here will be your moment to shine. Let’s all be part of the solution, not part of the problem. If this means that you need to practice social distancing for the time being, just do it. Stay at home as much as you can, tell your kids why it is important to do so at this moment. It is not just the government’s duty to curtail COVID-19 from spreading, it is a shared responsibility by all of us. If we do as such, we are also the day-to-day heroes. And we do not need to panick, because if collectively we all choose to do the right thing, the virus will be contained and the spring is not far from now. 

What does freedom mean to me? it is our birth right, our source of power, if we honor it with our conceived responsibilities. #MyFreedomDay

[reneeswing]

If you want to build a ship, don't drum up the people to gather wood, divide the work, and give orders. Instead, teach them to yearn for the vast and endless sea.

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, “Le Petite Prince“

[reneeswing]

All I maintain is that on this earth there are pestilences and there are victims, and it’s up to us, so far as possible, not to join forces with the pestilences.

Albert Camus, La Peste