Bittersweet

Today is the day Kiran would have turned 27. I'm honestly not really sure what else to say about that. Or if there is anything more to say. Ordinarily, she and I would probably be out on the town right now, drunk off our asses and high on life, causing some sort of trouble as usual. Instead, I'm at her parents' house in Ohio and I don't actually know where she is.

She always celebrated to the fullest, confident with an inexplicable certainty that the anniversary of her birth was, indeed, a very grand occasion. But she didn't go out to expensive dinners or throw parties at lavish clubs; she simply made sure to be surrounded by the ones she loved. This is what made her happy or, rather, giddy with excitement... she laughed a lot on her birthday. Her belief in the importance of this day was valid, made obvious to me once again as I went through her drawers and found stacks of old birthday cards from past years, written to her from near and far from her parents, brother, family friends, and classmates. It is still incredible to me to discover how many people truly considered her a best friend, a gift from God. I read countless notes, scribbled beneath and opposite the shiny font of greeting card poems, people struggling to fit into the limited space their gratitude and awe for Kiran's steadfast, genuine, and most of all loyal companionship... their wish that they could have brought even a fraction of the goodness into her life that she brought into theirs. Sometimes, in fleeting moments such as this one, the loss will dawn on me briefly.

Kiran has come to my house in Briarcliff many more times than I have come to hers in Warren, Ohio. I've never been here while she was not. So this time is different. I see her everywhere of course, but not like before. This time there is a picture of her, smiling, framed on the kitchen counter, with a single candle burning in front of it.

By now, I feel I have seen it all. I have been through all the moments that I thought would wash the surreality away in an instant - my large family gathering together in Revathi's apartment hours after receiving the news; touching Kiran's cold hands, her eyes shut and her lips bluish; sorting through her Dupont Circle apartment and setting aside her clothes for donation; seeing Deepak, Sudi Mama, and Sarala Auntie months after the ordeal with pain written in the lines of their faces; stopping to see the house on Bittersweet Drive where her family lived when she was born; and having her special day come but feeling the absence of her mischievous, childlike giggle. I have searched in the mundane, too, for the realization, hoping to shake some of this numbness, praying to feel.

Someone said to me the other day that when I am ready, it will come.

In her bedroom, I was somehow surprised to find myself, to find evidence of what we shared and how intertwined we were as girls, as teenagers, and now as adults: a stuffed cow that I have an identical larger version of, tiny toy puppies that gave I her each time we saw each other in high school, an envelope sent from my mother with an article about how the love for an animal can change your life (Kiran's everlasting affection for Junior was known by all), an old fleece winter cap of mine that I must have carelessly left behind, the crazy eighties outfit she wore on our wild night in London together in 2003, and of course, the beloved Scooby Doo blanket. It is this stuff, more than the hundreds of pictures of us hugging or making kissy faces or sticking our tongues out, that touches me. How we came together from across the country in childhood and left traces of ourselves in one another...it is a blessing.

I made this for her on her 23rd birthday. The Antoine de Saint Exupery quote is meaningful to us because of the insecurities we went through, together, growing up.

We bought cream colored roses for her and tea light candles to keep her flame aglow. In the morning we will pray for her together.

I lowe you Bay Wee <3

Un Morceau de Mon Coeur Reste Ici

C’est ma derniere nuit. Je suis tres tres triste :(

Remember middle school and high school, or maybe even college, at the end of camp or a long trip with friends or a study abroad program? That terrible, dreadful parting… the true and deep feeling of being torn from those with whom you formed bonds during your weeks or months in that place removed from your real life? I have that right now. But it’s not for people… it’s for Paris and, actually, France overall, for what I saw and learned. Vraiment… je ne veux pas partir. I cried briefly at moments over the past few days, knowing this experience was coming to an end. I almost stayed out all night, feeling a strong desire to walk around and take in the city of light until the very last possible moment. But then I realized that is what someone would do if it was truly their last night here. For me, it is the beginning of a lifelong relationship with this beautiful country. I came looking for a fling, but the place captured my heart. I guess I found some romance here after all, even though Jamaal was at home ;)


I feel so lucky to have done this. I really believe that you go places and find pieces of yourself there. Maybe they are pieces that you never knew existed, or maybe they are pieces that you somehow lost long ago and you find them again. But discovering pieces of myself in France has been … je ne sais pas…


It wasn’t actually that long of a trip; it’s just a very pivotal time for me, for all the reasons that you know about. Leaving my first career, where I had invested long hours, a low salary, and a lot of bullshit to pursue a real passion is possibly the best decision I’ve ever made (of course this will only be clear retrospectively, and no, I do not believe that this means I won’t deal with all of the things mentioned above moving forward – I know they will probably exist to an even greater extent where I am going). It’s been a long process getting here, to the point where I was ready to take the leap to embark upon a new path, not just in terms of actual length of time, but emotionally. It may seem dramatic, but it took a lot from the heart of me and was exhausting. The hating where I was and what I did all day, the utter unhappiness, and then asking myself what I was going to do about it was exhausting. That aspect of this unpredictable, tumultuous, and yet opportunistic stage of life surely makes me that much more impressionable. I wanted let the city, culture, fashion, art, and love take hold of me do what it would. I wanted the sunrise to help me start again.

With the other thing… it will take more time to put things back together inside, or rather, let them fall apart in the first place, after losing something that was my everything. But maybe that’s a never-ending process. I still can’t feel for her the way I do for, say… Michael Jackson. I know that sounds ridiculous. But it’s true. I think certain things are so tragic, I feel poignantly for them, and then, with what is closest and dearest to me, I lose my sense of metaphysical reality, of what everything means. I looked for her here. In the narrow, ancient cobblestone streets, in the cerulean water of the Mediterranean, in the gouache I used to paint my finished croquis in David’s class, I expected her to return. I can’t say in what way, but I thought she would. I have been sure of it… since April 7th. And I wanted France to give that to me. I guess I was asking a lot. Still, it gave me the solitude, the beauty, and a little silence to allow me to search for her… even if ultimately I was just searching within.


I am very fortunate to have been able to find even a fragment of what I came for… and of course, to have been given the opportunity to try. I know I needed and deserved this.

It is hard to say goodbye to something that was so good to me.


*beaucoup de bisous*

Cote D'Azur... je t'adore!

Sorry once again for my elongated absence. Did anyone miss me?

I have been unable to write for a variety of reasons after my last post, when I promised to write the next day. First off, my cute little comment about my stomach acting up turned out to be no joke and for three days I was running to a toilet every time I ingested anything but water or sprite. I'm pretty sure I had some type of food poisoning. Either that or God was punishing me for criticizing Meredith during her illness. Oh that Karma, it'll getcha. BUT I took it like a champ and waited out my issues patiently even as I watched Ade eat lots of scrumptious meals! This was not your ordinary gastrointestinal problem... it was bad. I really had to not eat at all or I paid for it seconds later! Ugh... so much for letting loose after class ended. Ha, pun intended ;) This brings me to my second reason for being MIA - Ade came to play!



We spent some time in Paris together before heading to Nice. In spite of my having to be in bed for part of our stay, we still enjoyed the beach in Nice and Villefranche as well as a little excursion to Monaco and Monte Carlo. Everything we saw was breathtaking... this was just the beginning of my being mesmerized by the south of France...



Our little Nigerian (thank you Lydia for coining the phrase) returned to London after a few days and I continued my travels to Cannes. I will be honest about this leg of my trip - cultural activities were kept to a minimum and my mission for beaucoup de soleil was made a number one priority. Well, that and eating. My diet pretty much consisted of nutella, banana, and whipped cream crepes, various flavors of ice cream, and other desserts. It's been fun, but I think my body is starting to be mad about the ice cream overload... eek.

Mmmmm... yea, this was a good one.

Aaand it took me about four minutes to devour it ;)




Over these four and half days, I hung out on the beach in Cannes, St. Tropez, and St. Marguerite (where the Man in the Iron Mask was held prisoner - btw, I had no idea that was a real thing), and also thoroughly enjoyed the boat rides between these locations. This is the real reason I have been unable to write; I've been too wrapped up in my French Riviera adventures :) These few days were like a dream. I can't put into words the enchantment I felt in St. Tropez. I fully understand why some of the richest people in the world spend millions to vacation and own homes there; it's charming in simplest of ways while simultaneously overflowing with an obvious beauty that envelops you when you're there. I suppose it's quite banal to fall so deeply in love with such a place... but I did. Strolling through the tiny streets of the old town, with its ochre, pink, and yellow buildings, made me feel almost as if I was being let in on a little secret, as if it was just me and little St. Tropez...




Oh, but as I was reveling in my infatuation with this town, a girl approached me and asked if I was alone, to which I idiotically replied "yes," which hence prompted her to ask if I'd like to spend the day together as she too was traveling by herself. To this too, I idiotically replied "yes," God only knows why. I hope this doesn't make me a monster bitch, but I really did not want to be with this chick. First off, I had no idea how old she was, I think due to the fact that she had braces (maybe the braces are why I didn't want to hang out with her). She could have been 17 but she also could have been 35, and I had no idea which it was. She turned out to be 24, but that apparently meant nothing in the arena of coolness. I know this is coming from moi, who has clearly had little patience for most people I've met so far, but she sort of sucked and I was sad to let her impose on my date with St. Trop! There were about six different isolated instances of her saying things like, "Oh my god, this is SO weird. We're the SAME age, both single, traveling here alone, and I mean, we found each other!" and "I saw you on the boat, did you see me??" and "How AWKWARD?! I can't believe we're both here by ourselves! It's so ironic!" I wanted to be like, "How is it ironic? SHUDDUP. And please refrain from stalking me." Instead I just sort of had to force a fake laugh, and I'm not sure I was trying that hard to make it sound sincere. Oops :P But really, she was not so hot at picking up on my not-so-subtle hints. A huge contributing factor to how I felt about her was when she made two different comments that were weird on their own and, then put together, confused me very much. We were walking behind this lady whose dress was sort of sheer around the pelvic region. I didn't see her and probably wouldn't have looked twice at her considering we were in a beach town with tons of quirky rich people, but Lynn (the girl) was like, "LOOK!" I was like "What?" as she giggled like an eight-year-old. She goes, "I think that lady is wearing a THONG! Oh my god, she IS!" I was like ummmm yes, I believe she might be wearing a thong. Now, it was very clear that she was not fascinated in the least by the fact that this woman's dress was basically see through only in the ass/crotch area, which at least would have made a bit more sense, but she was intrigued only by the thong. I wanted to tell her I've been wearing thongs since I was 14, but I decided that was not important. THEN, like an hour later, out of nowhere, she's talking about this guy she's staying with in Cannes and how he has a girlfriend. In regards to this, she said, "I'm actually glad though so that he doesn't expect me to sleep with him. I mean, when he visited me, I wasn't like 'I'm gonna force you to f*** me just because you're staying at my place.'" I was like woooaah there, where did that come from? One second you're embarrassed cuz you saw some lady's underwear, and now you're using the F curse in refernce to sex?! Like, which person are you?? I was commiserating in my head all day with Kiran; I knew she'd have been equally amused by the whole experience. Overall I was just sad that normal people are not drawn to me. I am fine alone, so please don't approach me if you're an effing freak, thanks :) Aside from that, I didn't have any other crazy encounters, not including 40 year old Italian men trying to pick me up, but I think that's pretty standard for Europe. Or anywhere for that matter.

Oh! Also, I was very lucky in Cannes to be able to continue to my fashion education. Currently the 7th Festival International de la Photographie dd Mode is going on, so I got to see this fabulous exhibit! It was especially exciting for me because my professor specifically said that a history of fashion photography course would be very beneficial in developing my knowledge for my desired career path. If anyone knows of a good class - in Chicago, remember - gimme the info please! Anyway, it was just cool to be able to see this and continue, albeit minimally, some focus on fashion in the remainder of my stay here.



Okay, time to go, as I need to return to gallivanting around France. Also, I need to share stories of the scary hotels I've been staying in! I almost pulled an Angel and cried over the unfortunate circumstances I faced twice in Cannes and then again in Aix-en-Provence, where I am now. More to come ;)

A tout a l'heure!

Residence Facility and Character Updates

A lot has happened in the past few weeks. I regret that I did not have more time to write throughout the program, but I’ll summarize to the best my ability.

Most importantly, roommate and two girls down the hall and I argued our way out of the dorm situation and were able to negotiate a 50% refund from what we had paid, which was just an astronomical cost for such a vile living space. I still think we should have gotten more than that amount back, but I was at the point where I wanted to take what I could get and run.

Our room... it doesn't do justice to what we were dealing with, especially since the bathroom was a bigger problem. Either way, NON!!

It’s unnecessary to fully get into why it was so bad there, but let me say two things: 1) We believe someone defecated in the shower. Yes, another resident using this housing facility SHIT in the shower. I mean, really?!?! I tried to fathom what could possibly have prompted such disgusting and barbaric behavior, and I decided that someone from a place that still has Turkish toilets (for those of you unfamiliar, the whole in the ground type toilet) mistook the shower drain for a receptacle for their poop. I think this is me being very generous and diplomatic, so I’m going to guess that this was not the case. Regardless, I strongly believe that shitting in the shower is NOT okay, not in any culture. 2) Long before the poop, there was another problem. I think it can be summed up with words by Phoebe, whom I frequently quote: “Little black, little black, little black, little black, little black curly haaaaair.” Yes, there was a problem with the little black curly hairs in the bathroom. How someone even sheds this much from one region of their body in the time it takes to shower is beyond me. I think on par with being grossed out, I was equally baffled by the logistics of HOW something like this occurs (by “this,” I mean the shower floor being covered with pubic hair and other small particles of God only knows what). I literally would whine out loud while bathing. My roommate once said, in response to the shower situation, that she just closes her eyes. I was like NOOOOO I have to keep my eyes open at all times out of fear that one of the scraggly little things will jump up and stick to my leg or some other horrific thing of that sort. I might be crazy, but no, the circumstances were unacceptable! If you are familiar with my obsession with the clean spot (and if you know me, you probably know the clean spot quite well), you can imagine that I was extremely disconcerted with the fact that after a shower, I could not even call my own body the clean spot. :(

Anywaaay, the four of us moved to a hotel, which was marvelous. However, I had to listen to Meredith (roommate) and Angel – might as well say their names at this point – complain about how terrible Paris is. Finally I just piped up and was like, “Well maybe it’s you and not Paris or the Parisians because I am not having any of the experiences you guys are describing.” And then I think the two of them bitched about me all day. Oh well, it had to be said. On top of having settled for the fact that my social life was going to suck here, I felt a rift even between me and these girls. I didn’t care since it went against the very grain of my existence to be around them and their ignorant attitudes, but still there were times when I was like “Fuck, I wish these girls didn't suck so badly.” Ultimately, Angel decided that she was “over” Paris, so she changed her ticket to leave early and didn’t even finish out the class. She’d had plans to maybe stay and go to the south of France, as I am doing, but she truly felt that Seattle was preferable to the French Riviera. To each her own, I guess. Meredith got sick and went home early too. While she was in fact not well, I have to state the obvious that she did not have to rush to Florida to the wonderful American healthcare system. I think we’ve all been sick while far away from home, right? Shit sucks, but deal with it. I think she secretly couldn’t hold out any longer for a venti caramel macchiato and a nice Cheesecake Factory meal. Man, am I a bitch :) In the end, all this turns out sort of okay for me, aside for the fact that leaving the dorm is more expensive than it was originally going to be because everyone LEFT. But having my own space has been tres bien for getting my work done as well as for my emotional state. No more listening to their bullshit, woohoooo! At the same time, my cousins Arun and Nikhil happened to be visiting Paris, so I got some quality time with them. This honestly changed the way I feel about my time here (love you guys!!) because otherwise I think I'd just still feel incredibly lonely. For me, I'd rather be alone than around people I can't stand. So it was lovely having family here to hang out with. Arun also took us out to an unbelievable dinner which allowed me to truly experience haute French cuisine. Yummiiiies!

I must also mention that Harlow dropped out too. She ended up being pretty cool (and her dad is some academy award winning film effects guy, so she’s totally loaded and you couldn’t tell, which I always think deserves props – being humble about your roots, not being loaded), but I don’t think she liked the teacher and classmate critiques, which were a huge part of the class. This was interesting to me because some of the students who came in on their high horses about being in design school or working under other designers currently either aren’t actually that good or haven’t improved at all. I’ve found that in spite of being inexperienced in this field, I have a lot that these kids don’t. It goes a very long way to be professional, open to criticism, able to follow specific directions on a project or assignment, and to use feedback to improve your work. I will write more tomorrow about the actual class, the projects, and how wonderful this professional/academic growing experience has been for me. Right now I’m seriously drained on so many levels – four weeks of four hours a sleep a night is finally catching up. And my stomach is doing things eeek. Oh, the dysfunctional body of Petit Babu ;)

Last thing, the mean girls surprisingly adopted socially inept Patty as their mascot or something. It’s been hilarious. She actually grew on me too due to her sheer ridiculousness. I thought I saw a bit of me in that haha. Oh, and one day I was behind Amy on the stairs when she was wearing her underwear-length denim shorts (actually, I've never seen her in pants at all), and I had nightmares from it. SO MUCH ASS. That's all!

On that note, bonsoir!

xo