Dear China Airlines

Dear China Airlines,

Thank you for the excellent service provided by your cabin/air crew throughout my flights to and from Denpasar. Thank you for the ever-glowing smile on your crew's face. Thank you for their readiness in all situation. Thank you for making my trip an enjoyable one.

One might differ with me, and claimed that your service is merely standard. What is, however, standard? I have been on budget airlines where the air crew look like they forever have stinky dirt under their nose, sneering endlessly. I have been on budget airlines where the crew didn't seem to care enough to wholeheartedly explain the safety instruction. This is only for 2-hour flights, mind you. I dread to think how they will look and act on a 5+ or even 10+ hour flights.

There are better airlines and service. Sure. But you know what? What your crew did up there in the air was beyond compare, because I personally would not want to do their job. I can't even look impeccable for more than 2 hours for meeting purposes, let alone the whole 10+ hours. And as much as I love people, I was up on my nerves with the passenger next to me by the end of each flights. Your crew did that PLUS serving food etc and basically taking care of the passenger's need. There is nothing glamorous in the true job description of your air/cabin crew, yet they manage to make it look like effortlessly graceful. For that, China Airlines, I salute you.

If you ever had the (mis)fortune of a long flight, take a good look of your air/cabin crew and appreciate them for what they do. Imperfection aside, remind yourself that unless you can do better than them, it is pointless to treat them with disrespect or with the air of I-am-higher-than-thou. The first step of being human is to acknowledge other human as equal. And that starts with the people you interact with. Respect them and thank them for what they did. Yes, they got paid for it; but what's the loss in treating them with respect?

I can still remember the way I watch the air/cabin crew with adoration, and how I cringe and feel sorry for them when they have to deal with unruly passengers. The total 23+ hour flights was hard enough for me, but seeing them in action made me feel I shouldn't whine so much. At least I am allowed to not look so chic and slept the whole flight through. And yes, their presence do make me feel better. Thank you so much China Airlines' air/cabin crew. Cheers to your hard work!!!

Cold, Cold LA

I lay awake almost the entire night, spending it in silent agony. I was tossing and turning in my bed; doing every possible, thinkable way to get myself to sleep. 10 pm, 11 pm, 12 am, 1 am, and still I lay awake. The night seemed to go on forever, and the sweet sweet morning will never come.

There was no comforting warmth of my sister's or my mom's body sleeping next to me. There was no promises of silly giggles of my nephews and niece, or cool time with my group at my cousin's cafe. There was no promise of tomorrow, as a matter of fact. As I turned on my heater I shivered. Los Angeles has never felt colder.

I thought of the days I would have to spend alone. I thought of the lonely little shoebox apartment I currently called home. I thought of the awful health service here, how I dread being sick or even to get basic service like pap smear. I thought of the police who nonchalantly claim there was no threat in the intimidating e-mails my ex-husband sent to me, when I was scared out of my wit. Here I have no protection. Here I have no one to call my own. Here I spend lonely nights alone. Why am I here again?

The night grew older and still I lay awake for God knows how long. It was already 5.40 am when I opened my eyes, so I did get some sleep. Yet it seemed like I did not get any. I dragged myself out of bed and start prepping for my day. The thought of tasks at work calmed me a bit. Anything is better than the monstrous night. I will have to face him again, but not until 14 more hours. I tried my best to quenched my fear for the impending doom. I will be fine, I lied to my self, I will be fine.

I manage to catch my first bus on time. Then my second. Then my third. The busy city streets gradually change into freeways and then the suburbs. The city sky adorned with flashy city lights and the purple-orange streak of dawn evolve into warm sun lit day blurred by the morning fog. The air grew chilly, and I immediately put on my jacket. Yet unlike the night, I did not feel the chill in my heart. Instead I found a welcoming comfort, a feeling that I belong. This is home.

Changes will happen, obstacles and other challenges will arise; but the morning light will stay the same. Morning will always come after the night. Hope will prevail. Here lies my dreams and my hopes. Here lies the thing I hold dearest: myself. Lonely sleepless nights await me for sure, at least for now. But bright mornings and hopeful days will be there too. When there is hope, there is life.

As I sat here typing these words, shivering to my bones, I can't help but thinking how shallow it all sounds. I must be kidding myself. The odds are stacked against me. I can't think of a single positive outcome of me being here. These words are pitiful words I said to fool myself. How pathetic. Then the sun hit me, graced me with her warmth. Fear is the night, dotted with uncertainties and terrors; hope is the morning, filled with sureness and dreams. Both exist in our life, both inseparable and necessary. As the night will surely comes, the morning will come as well.

I will fear the night later. I will deal with my terrors later. For now I have the morning. For now I have the sun. For now I have hope. For now the cold, cold Los Angeles doesn't bother me. Have a blessed morning, dear readers.

The Three Homes

It's been 13 days since I left LA. The tall buildings, the busy public transportation, the chilly wind, the frustratingly short fall/winter days, they all seemed light years away.

For a week they were replaced with humid (and almost suffocating) weather, bumper-to-bumper gridlock traffic jam, street food and somewhat fancy food, the skyline that stretch on forever, and glitzy malls that made you giddy with opulent excitements.

For the next week those too will be replaced with ceaseless scooter driving, with wind in my hair and the harmonic chaos of gamelan (Balinese orchestra) in my ears, suckling pigs on spit and mom's homemade cooking, temples to pray and bars to play with beaches and mountains in between.

One is a place where I was born and raised. One is where my rightful place is, the source of my blood within. One is where I can be myself. So which one is home?

Home is where I chat like crazy till 2 in the morning, and play card/dice games for hours afterwards. Home is where I sip coffee and gossiped with a friend, and on and on we went. Home is looking at my friend's attractive yet incredibly expressive face and totally understand why people loved her. Home is excitedly yet anxiously sitting in the car on the way to the temple, longing so bad to be there and find solace once more.

Home is running to the ocean with mismatched bikini, and jump gleefully into it. Home is laughing with the wave and splash the water around, feeling purified and rejuvenated and simply...happy. Home is drinking beer in a club made to look like a giant house party, and as the night went on the calm friend became more and more vivid. Home is little tiny hands touching me and calling me over and over again: "Bugek Ary!" (auntie Ary), Dad's plans and Mom's easy goingness, siblings love and bickerings.

Home is long commute with cool bus drivers and interesting passengers. Home is homemade lunch for the weekdays and freshly grilled bf-made meals on weekends. Home is cool job and even cooler co-worker. Home is intense business discus/tsion and entertaining board games. Home is the endearing "Hey" in messaging apps, and the smile I'll soon see in person. Home is lonely life yet a satisfying one, a state of mind where one become the city itself.

Three places, three life, three homes. To say I am merely blessed is a gross understatement.

A true prowess of human is his/her ability to adapt to his/her surrounding, and use it to the max; to be able to see both silver lining in even the most frustating condition and bloomed with it. We know limits in physical matters, but spiritually we are limit-free. Our soul, our mind transcend matter. And thus, we are bigger than we look, than we choose to believe.

Had I lived a life constrained to just a singular home, a life in any of the three homes I have would be fulfilling indeed. But I have three of them. Others might have less, or even many more. This knowledge buoyed my spirit and made me realized how vulnerable yet powerful we are spiritually, how fascinating our mind and adaptation power is, how truly beautiful my life is. We are not a flock of ducks herded by the unknown farmer, we are kings and queens of our own realms.

The three homes beckon me, calling me. I have loathed and feared and angry at each of my homes. I have loved each of them even more. And now I will heed their calling. I am home. I am home. I am home.