Lennox Head

If you read my blog about pre-planning, you’ll know I expected to spend a month in a town called Lennox Head. I picked this place on a whim. There’s a story there, but I’m going to keep that close to my vest. Here’s what I told everyone else: It’s close to Ballina Byron Gateway Airport. It’s a quiet place with miles of coastline. You can walk through the entire town in less than 30 minutes. There’s nothing intimidating about Lennox, even if you’re a stranger from halfway around the globe.

I have to be honest, my first day was bad. I had no cell reception, which meant I couldn’t order a uber (I did get into a stranger’s car to get from the airport to my Airbnb), I couldn’t call anyone, or map my way home from the grocery store. I felt isolated. Even if that’s what I thought I wanted, it was scary when it was real. Once I had access to Wi-Fi, I called my mom and told her I had made a mistake. I told her I wanted to go back to Sydney, and abandon my plans entirely. She was completely unhelpful, and told me to book a flight home.

You see, I had this vision – a big city girl, goes to a small Australian beach town and finds herself. If you’re wondering, I succeeded in finding a version of myself. I found a girl who was forced to slow down. A girl that had to walk up and down too many hills and make each step count. A girl at peace by the sea. A girl who spent a lot of time alone with her thoughts. A girl who still doesn’t know what’s next. I found that girl in 10 days, instead of 30. What can I say? I’m efficient.

Lennox is a sweet, little beach village. I think the main strip of stores and restaurants spans across 1 mile. In my 10 days there, I walked a total of 36.73 miles. I walked into town. I walked along the beach. I walked to the lake. I walked to every café. I walked and walked and walked. When I wasn’t walking, I was writing.

I wrote and wrote and wrote – journal entries, blogs, and cover letters. I envisioned this trip as a writer’s retreat. I thought I might pen the next great American novel. Netflix would purchase the adaptation rights. I would be rich enough to afford a house in Lennox Head. I haven’t started said novel, but at least I have this blog to show for all of this time writing. 

Lennox deserves to be written down. For what it’s worth, it feels like a realistic paradise. Families raising their children next to the ocean. Retired folks living out their best days at the beach. It’s a completely unpretentious, quiet existence. In my entire time there, I never felt rushed. This is random, but days had passed and I realized that I didn’t see a single runner. Everyone enjoyed the town at a peaceful pace. There’s nothing worth running to or from.

When I shortened my trip, I realized that I had to make every moment count. I operated with intention – to be present as much as I can and find something meaningful in everything I did. Even my daily confrontations with a bush turkey taught me something about myself (I learned I simply do not trust birds of any kind). When I spoke to people, I really tried to get to know them and what they liked about the town. In return, people got to know me and why I was there. Everyone was surprised that I had picked Lennox on a map, but they were grateful that I stumbled upon their beloved town. It’s now one of my beloved towns.

If you find yourself in Lennox, here’s what you need to see:

1.     Seven Mile Beach: The beach is honestly everywhere you look in Lennox. I feel the best when I’m sitting by the ocean, breathing with the waves, and looking out onto the horizon. There are so many entry points and benches, that you can always find a secluded place for yourself to sit and reflect. On its busiest day, I think I saw 40 people across the entire beach. It’s almost empty on most days and times. I liked waking up early to watch surfers catch their first waves, or at sunset to look out to the cotton candy sky. I went to the beach every single day (multiple times a day), and I never grew tired of it.

2.     Pat Morton Lookout: You can walk to Pat Morton Lookout from the beach or drive there and park. It’s so beautiful to look out over the ocean, and just take it all in. The sunsets feel overwhelming, like it should be impossible to witness something like that every day. It made me want to meditate, and that was a foreign feeling for me.

3.     Lake Ainsworth: I don’t have a good grasp of geography (I totally cheated in that class in high school), but I didn’t think you could have lakes so close to the ocean. I thought it was an either/or situation, but I’m so glad I discovered that is not the case. This lake is beautiful and stained by tea trees. You can see so clearly into the water. I wished I had my paddle board, and I would have hung out for longer if the place wasn’t surrounded by bush turkeys. Repeat after me, NEVER trust a bird.

If you find yourself in Lennox, here’s where you should go:

1.     White Wood Boutique: Go shop and say hi to Karen for me. It’s a little boutique owned by her daughter. She was the first person I met in Lennox, and she made me feel safe and welcome in the town. She also helped me find the perfect pair of linen pants.

2.     Skin and Clay: Get a spa package here and thank me for it. There’s nothing like going from a relaxed morning at the beach, to a relaxing spa appointment, to a relaxed afternoon at the beach. The people are so kind and I felt like a new born baby when I walked out.

3.     Rock of Ages Tattoo: Get a tattoo on a whim! It’s fun! If you hate it, it’ll only be on your body forever. I had wanted a certain tattoo for a while, and Marlon helped me out. He was incredibly kind and careful, and I’m so glad I had the opportunity to meet him and the team there. They take walk-in appointments and were easy to work/book with.

If you find yourself in Lennox, here’s where you should eat:

1.     Baraka: I am not kidding or exaggerating when I say that this is the best meal you will have in your life. The Lebanese-inspired restaurant is owned by Kat and Ric (I want to be lifelong friends with them). I had the tasting menu on the first night, and their bistro menu on the second. Yea, I went TWICE in one week. They made me feel so welcome, and walked me through the menu and how they would enjoy each dish. Kat and Ric listened to my story, shared some of theirs, and gave me an incredible list of recommendations for my trip to Melbourne. It is so clear that they take pride in their work – connecting people and food. Kat had a vision and designed the beautiful space (and even made all of the tables by hand). Ric creates seasonal menus based on meaningful experiences he wants to share with people. If you encourage him, he’ll talk to you about his past football career and explain defensive tactics. Food AND football? My literal dream. I mean this genuinely, when I say this might be my favorite restaurant I’ve ever been to.

2.     Williams St Café: This is one of many cafés by the water, but my personal favorite. The space is cozy and has that typical beach vibe. I had my table in the corner where I wrote and people-watched. I think they have the best latte in all of Lennox (which is saying something, because Aussies do not mess around with their coffee). They have fresh takes on comfort food, and there’s genuinely something for everyone. Jodie took good care of me and remembered me when I came in on my last day in Lennox.

3.     Shelter: This restaurant is actually right next to Williams St Café. You have to go to both. It’s right by the water, and I recommend sitting at the bar closest to the window. The menu is elevated, unique, and their brown butter lemon curd is actually outrageous.

4.     Lex Thai: I’m grateful Lennox has a Thai restaurant, and one that is so good. They only open after 5pm, so it’s a great dinner spot. I felt so chic when I went there, and I’m still thinking of their wagyu dumplings.

5.     Freewave Sushi: Whoever thought of sushi hand rolls by the beach is a genius. This is the perfect lunch spot – grab a couple of rolls and walk to a bench and eat them while taking in the ocean. It’s so popular and there’s always a line at lunchtime, but they are very efficient.

6.     Quattro: One of two Italian restaurants in Lennox. I think this is the better one. The menu is approachable and has all of your classics. I had a pizza bread sandwich that I’m honestly still not sure how they accomplished, but I’m grateful all the same. I recommend skipping their dessert and going to Lennox Head Coffee and Gelato after.

I’m going to be annoying and tell you that I did not have a single “bad” meal while I was in Lennox. I was so surprised to find so many great options in such a small destination. I ate at almost every restaurant and café in town, so I can give you a more detailed list if you ask. Either way, you truly can’t go wrong.

I am really grateful for this time in Lennox. This is cheesy, but everyday felt like a gift that I had to make the most of. My only qualm is that everything closed at 2pm. My afternoons were very isolating, and I found it hard to stay busy during those hours. Upon further reflection, I think I really needed that time to sit with myself. I’m not mad about it. By the end, it was incredibly hard to leave.

I really hope you find yourself in Lennox, I’m so glad I did.

Australia: Packing

I take pride in my packing abilities. I almost always have at least one suitcase packed and ready in case I need to go somewhere at a moment’s notice. I’ve lived out of carry-on suitcases for weeks at a time. Traveling internationally has presented me with a new challenge. It’s very different when you’re traveling for more than a month…to a remote town… in a different country… halfway across the world. I needed a strategy.

It’s funny, because I’m writing this blog while in Australia. I can actually tell you if my packing strategy was successful or not. I’ll give you a hint - I have some regrets, but I think you and I will learn from them. I also want to mention that I’m not an actual influencer, so nothing I write is an ad or a sponsored post. I use every single item I’ve listed and I’m including brand names where it’s relevant. First, I’ll walk you through the suitcases/carry-on items I’m bringing with me.

I have a medium Away suitcase. I own multiple of their suitcases, but the “medium flex” is the only large (checked size) suitcase I own. I’ve been a fan of the company since 2017, and their suitcases are durable, have four wheels, and a great lifetime warranty. I pair their suitcases with the Away “insider packing cubes.” I have two sets, bringing my total to 8 individual cubes. For this trip, I brought 6 cubes and they were filled to the max. I used them, because I like how they compress my clothes and keep things organized. There are 5 in the medium suitcase and 1 in my backpack. In the end, my suitcase weighed 46lbs (which came in under the 50lb limit). Here’s everything that’s in my medium suitcase:

• Clothes: I packed 3 sweaters, a light hoodie, 2 swimsuits, 3 dresses, 4 bottoms, 5 tops, 2 pairs of pajamas, 3 sports bras, 2 bras, 4 pairs of socks, and 7 pairs of underwear. Remember, I have access to a washing machine during my trip and my goal is to do about 1 load of laundry every week.

• Shoes: I packed one pair of Tevas in my suitcase.

• Gifts: I am spending part of my time with extended family, so I brought some gifts in my checked luggage. I went with a couple of Stanley cups and Yeti Ramblers, because I think everyone should be hydrated (and these are my favorite, sustainable gifts).

• Toiletries: I included a full-size shampoo and conditioner, 8 oz. micellar water, 2.7 oz. toothpaste, and a full bar of soap in its own travel container. I might do an extended blog just on toiletries and makeup.

• Other bags: I packed an empty Vera Bradley duffel bag. It folds up to be relatively thin, and this gives me the option to add a carry-on if I make purchases during the trip and they don’t fit in my suitcase. I packed my Patagonia Sling, which is my favorite travel bag. It holds my 20oz water bottle, keys, wallet, and my camera. The sling provides an even weight distribution on my back, making the bag a perfect travel companion.

• Misc.: I packed a small prayer mat and headscarf. I packed a Turkish towel (which is thinner and wider than a regular towel) to use at the beach and double as a beach blanket. I also included a pair of goggles, feminine products, a box of Shisheido Facial Cotton, and a Lululemon Cinchable Wide Brim Bucket Hat (which makes me look like a bee keeper). I also packed one plug converter.

My carry-on items were my Everlane “Renew Transit” backpack and the Medium LLBean “canvas tote.” I’ll talk about my backpack first: it is my go-to carry on item. It has a laptop sleeve and a luggage pass-through (which is my favorite feature). The flexible material makes it easy to fill the bag with as much stuff as humanly possible, but I will say that this means the bag needs to be full to sit up straight or else it kind folds into itself. I wish the side pocket was big enough to hold a water bottle, but they updated that feature in the new version of this bag. Here’s everything that’s in my backpack:

• 1 packing cube: This had a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, 1 pair of pajamas, 1 set of undergarments (bra, underwear, socks). This was everything I needed for my first night in Sydney, so I wouldn’t have to open my checked bag until I got to Ballina.

• My makeup bag and brushes: I would love to detail this in another blog.

• My toiletries bag: This has mini sizes that I didn’t include in my checked bag, but was everything I needed for the plane and for my first night in Sydney. I would love to detail this in another blog.

• Writing materials: I had 1 legal pad, 2 notebooks, 1 boxed letter writing set, 2 pens, 2 pencils, lead, ink, and an eraser.

• Misc.: My toothbrush, a mini Tangle Teezer (hairbrush), contacts, full-sized medicine, wifi-hotspot, a nail file, and wet wipes. I packed the other plug converter in my carry-on to use on the plane and in Sydney.

My Land’s End canvas tote is all over TikTok right now. Yes, it is monogrammed. No, I’m not embarrassed. I want to say one thing - I actually don’t love this tote. My perfect tote is a cross between the Land’s End canvas tote and the LLBean Boat and Tote. This is such an unnecessary thing to say, but I needed to get it off my chest. I like the material/stitching and handles of the LLBean and the pockets of the Land’s End. Ultimately, I decided to bring the Land’s End because of said pockets. Here’s what’s in my tote:

• My laptop: It fits perfectly in the laptop pocket and it has a button to secure the laptop into place.

• My headphones: I have the Sony WH-10000XM4 head phones (noise cancelling, over the ear, and have an aux for the plane), my AirPods, and my Power Beats Pros. Three pairs of headphones seems like a lot, but I wanted to make sure I had options in case any ran out of battery. I also have a pair of loops ear plugs.

• My tech organizer: I bought a bag off of amazon to hold all of my chargers, and I’m glad I upgraded from a random pouch that didn’t fit all of my chargers. I use the Muji cord organizers to keep the cables from getting mixed up.

• My camera: I upgraded to my dream camera - the Fuji XT5. It has its own bag.

• My water bottle: I prefer my hydroflask to plastic bottles, so I brought my 20oz bottle with me.

• My eye mask and travel pillow: I need my eye mask everywhere and it’s honestly perfect for the plane. I did a lot of research and ended up purchasing the ostrich pillow. It’s compact, sturdy and comfortable (prevents my neck from bending too much). It was also very expensive, so I don’t know if you need it.

• My pill box and sheet masks: I packed my pill box in my carry-on for easy access on the plane(and it includes allergy pills, aspirin, and melatonin). I used the famous Biodance Collagen sheet mask on the 15 hour flight and it was worth it. I was so embarrassed to put it on in front of people on the plane (and mortified when I had to eat with it on), but my skin looked and felt so good after I took the mask off.

• My wallet: I got a special wallet with a passport holder and AirTag, so I know where it is at all times! In fact, all of my bags have AirTags, there’s something to be said about peace of mind.

• On the plane, I wore compression socks, a pair of leggings, a workout shirt, and a light jacket. I was a little cold on the plane, so I’ll wear a sweater next time.

Obviously, I did not pack lightly. Despite this, I don’t think I packed enough. It is a lot colder than I expected. I had checked temperatures before I arrived, but I did not consider wind chill. I already purchased another pair of pants and plan on purchasing at least one more and another full-sleeve blouse or sweater. I also wished I had one pair of joggers and another pair of leggings. Spring is temperamental, what can I say?

If you’re traveling, I hope this is kind of helpful. I know it’s a really long blog, but I tried to be intentional about every item I brought and how I prepared for this trip. Did I miss any essentials? Let me know!

Australia: Pre-Planning

I’m going on a trip - a really big trip. I have wanted to travel outside of the states for a really long time, but I was always too busy or too broke to make it happen. This year, I prioritized travel and I’m making it happen. Why this year?

I knew I was burning out. I found myself relating to Julia Roberts’ character in “Eat Pray Love” a little too much. I figured the best way to shake things up, would be to go to somewhere that no one knew me. I wanted a low-stakes opportunity to be a version of me that I don’t know yet.

I chose Australia for a few reasons. They speak my language (they speak it in a better accent, but still, my language). I have extended family nearby if things get hairy. It’s a country that you have to commit to get to, but the journey is worth it. There’s so much to see, and the coastline is insane.

I picked the city on a whim. I watched an interview where someone spoke about the city and said that the ocean called them home. I love the ocean, and it’s where I feel at home. If everything else was new, I wanted the ocean to be familiar. The town has a population of 7741 people (7742 in two days). After further investigation, I realized I could bike and walk everywhere. There’s more than one coffee shop where I can become a regular. I’ve done a lot of research, but I still don’t know what to expect. That’s the way I like it.

I chose to spend the bulk of my time in this town. When else will I get to be a big city girl in a small beach town, looking to find herself? @Netflix, please have your people call my people. I want to slow down and appreciate this time, because I don’t know the next time I’ll have a month off and to myself. This could be the best or worst decision of my life. Isn’t that exciting?

The decision may have been spontaneous, but you know me. You know I’m a planner. I started a google sheet immediately, and developed a budget. I don’t travel internationally a lot, so the budget was the most daunting part of this experience for me. I calculated flights, lodgings, food, activities, and miscellaneous expenses.

Flights: I set up a flight alert to find a time to purchase and a time frame to actually take the trip. Originally, I calculated flight costs by taking median of most expensive to least expensive flights. I ended up booking my flights with points, which was kind of incredible and cost-effective.

Lodgings: I knew I wanted a private house or apartment for the month. I chose Airbnb, because I was familiar with the platform and they had thorough details and reviews. I narrowed my location to walking distance from the main strip of shops in town and to the beach. Once I had a general location, I filtered rentals by features like wifi, kitchen, and laundry. I knew these things would be essential for my extended stay. I created a list of top three choices, and budgeted based on my ultimate decision.

Food: This was kind of a random number, but I budgeted about double my average food budget for a month at home. I have no idea if this will work, but I built in some slush funds in case my numbers are way off.

Activities: I researched various activities in town, from surf lessons to pottery classes to bike tours and facials. I got costs from local websites and included them in my budget.

Miscellaneous Items: I used this section to budget for things like the visa application and the crazy amount of sunscreen I expect to purchase. I added a couple of hundred dollars and rounded to an even number to build a cushion into my budget for random things along the way.

To pay for the trip, I purchased the “big ticket” items first (like flights and lodgings). I essentially put aside money each month to pay myself back for those items. It helped to know exactly what I was saving for. I continued saving until I covered the entire budget for the trip, so I wouldn’t have to dip into other savings. The goal is to have fun, not break the bank.

If I were to do it again, I would include a budget line for the things I needed to prepare for the trip. There were many random expenses before I stepped foot into Australia (like the perfect neck pillow or headphones or manicures). In my next blog, I’ll detail my packing list and preparation for the actual journey.

I plan to write a number of blogs about this trip. I hope you’ll follow along!

It Happened to Me

On Monday, I got laid off from my job. My relationship with the organization spanned across 10 years. I walked into their offices when I was 19 years old. From that first day, I knew I wanted to work there. And so I did.

In my time with the organization, I accomplished so much. In fact, I would say that I was unstoppable. I shined and I shared the light with others. I was relentless in my pursuit to make the organization better. I was a fierce advocate for my work, my colleagues, and the young people I worked for. I still am.

I saw the signs. I won’t go into great detail, but I could feel my work being deprioritized. I kept adjusting my body of work and trying to meet a moving goal post. I thought, if I work hard enough - if I advocate enough, it will be okay. I did everything I could.

In fact, I did everything right. It wasn’t enough to save me. Although I understand the decision, I never thought it would happen to me.

I’ve read the news. I’ve seen the #opentowork posts on LinkedIn. I’ve heard it happen to other people. I was in denial even as it was happening to me.

I got the meeting invitation, and I knew my fate. I prepared a list of questions to ask. In the moment, I only had one - why me? I didn’t get to ask it. In the span of 25 minutes, I was told about the lay off, meant to process my emotions, understand my severance package, and ask relevant questions. Instead, I cried.

Everyone says the same thing - don’t take it personally. “It’s not personal.” But it is. My work is personal. I wasn’t just working for an income - I was doing it because I believed in the mission and I believed in myself. I spent all of these years there, because I was investing in my future.

I’m not bitter. I’m too heartbroken to be bitter. My emotions are all over the place. One moment, I’m glad and hopeful that this is a blessing in disguise. Another, I’m devastated and scared for my financial security. This is trauma. This is a traumatic experience - one that I have to grieve. But where is the time? In this economy?

I got laid off three days ago. Here is a list of what I’ve done and what has helped me:

1. Called my friends and family - They reassured me and reminded me of my worth. They checked in on me, reminded me to eat, and listened when I needed to vent.

2. Updated my resume - I couldn’t control the lay off and the ramifications of it, but I have full control over my resume and how I present myself. Writing about my work and experience made me feel like I was taking back what belonged to me.

3. Reached out to my network - I reached out to colleagues (past and present) to let them know what they meant to me. I was shocked by the number of people who were supportive and wanted to help.

4. Read and re-read my severance package - I went through it. I had a lawyer friend go through it. I made a list of questions and scheduled time with HR to go over them.

5. I cried - I’m a proponent of crying and letting it all out. This is how I grieve and I make no apologies for it. I think I get bonus points for going to the ocean to cry.

I don’t know if this is helpful to anyone, but I do feel better with each passing day. I’ve even applied to jobs and mustered up the courage to go to a networking event! I remind myself that I’m still unstoppable, even while I’m grieving. That doesn’t make any of this okay, but it does put everything into perspective.

And if you take anything away from this blog - I hope it’s that lay offs can happen to anyone and that they will always feel personal. Despite that, it’s never your fault. There is community in shared experiences, so if you have any tips or advice, please share them!

My Favorite Photograph

I grew up in an age when cameras and social media were all too accessible. I had a Myspace, a Facebook, a Snapchat - I have TWO instagram accounts. It feels like photos are everywhere, all the time. I still remember the first time my mom gave me a disposable camera. It was for my fifth grade trip to Sky Ranch, and I remember feeling like each frame was precious. I couldn’t take photos of everything, I had to be strategic. I just remember the anticipation and sheer joy of getting the photos back from CVS. I don’t think I have any usable photos from that trip, if I do, I have no idea where they are.

In high school, I upgraded to being the “digital camera friend.” I brought my camera everywhere and I had hundreds of photos of peace signs and parties. I remember feeling the pressure of choosing the perfect album name on Facebook, slaving away over edits of photos I have no evidence of now. Every photo seemed important, every “like” was crucial. I deleted my Facebook account a few years ago, and my mom said that I would regret losing those photos. She was kind of right.

My mother is obsessed with photos. That woman loves to pose. I cringe every time she asks me to take her photo, but I try to indulge her when I can. A few years ago, we were going through a box of old photographs when she mentioned that she lost years of photos when she moved from Japan. That box was all she had, and without that documentation, her memories were at the risk of being warped or forgotten. Memories get distorted, physical photos do not.

My appreciation for photography has grown over time. Now, I stop to think about the stories behind the photo and the people behind the camera. I can form opinions about why I like or dislike a photo, but I can’t always tell you why. I’m learning.

I remember getting my first DSLR camera in 2017. I asked for it on a whim, and I think it’s because I wanted to take better photos for my Instagram account. I know that’s embarrassing, but at least I didn’t lie to you. My father was the one to get me the camera, and he subsequently became my first subject. It’s funny, because years later, he is the subject of my favorite photograph.

I genuinely think this is the best photo I’ve taken (so far). I want to tell you why I think it’s good, or maybe why I like it so much:

1. The framing - I am a sucker for a frame within a frame. A more experienced photographer might tell you that I followed the rule of thirds, which helped the composition of the image. I’ll tell you that I like doorways and what they represent - leaving and entering somewhere new. A doorway is a liminal space - an in-between. I love capturing that moment in-between, and not knowing what my subject is walking into.

2. The light - When I look at this photo, I consider it to be perfectly lit. The light was natural, and I was standing outside as the subject was in the doorway. The light and dark parts are balanced, even with the contrast of the whitest shirt I’ve ever seen.

3. The subject - My father is not smiling, but his face is exactly “him.” He doesn’t smile in photos, he never has. I usually have to do or say something silly to get him to crack a smile, and I have to take a photo as quickly as possible before it’s gone. I love his furrowed brow and the crinkles in his expression are so clear. There’s just something so human about this photograph.

4. The moment - Nothing about this image was posed. I just happened to be testing a new lens when my father came looking for me. I was quick enough to catch him at the door. I didn’t ask him to “do that again.” I didn’t ask him to smile. I didn’t think about the image before I pressed the button. Everything about this image is real and unplanned.

For context, my father was looking for me, because I promised to cut his hair. I’d never done it before, and I ended up doing a bad job. I actually love that I have this “before” photo, because the haircut was truly bad. I basically made him bald. I love that you can see all the grey hair, knowing that he went fully grey at 19 so he’s most himself with grey hair. I’ll dye it for him sometimes, but I prefer it this way. Everything about this image feels familiar to me, down to the door to the backyard with my parents’ kitchen in the background. I really love everything about this photograph, and that’s why it’s my favorite.

I’ve come a long way since that fifth grade school trip. My fascination with photography comes in waves, sometimes I’ll be really excited and want to learn everything I can. Recently, I haven’t been taking my camera out as much. I am easily overcome with imposter syndrome. I’ve spent too much time with trained photographers to think that it will be easy for me. I kind of like that it’s challenging and something I haven’t figured out yet. Not everyone is a photographer, despite everyone having a phone in their pocket. I’m not even sure that I would consider myself a photographer, I’m just a girl that likes to take photos.

I’ve recently returned to my fifth grade self and gotten back into film photography. I know, it’s the trendy thing to do. I like not knowing how the photos come out on a digital screen. I like that things can be blurry and imperfect - haphazard, if you will. With my digital camera, I tend to overthink and miss the photo entirely. With my film camera, I can click and move on. I’ll see what it ends up looking like months later (shout out to the team at Lumentation in Somerville for developing my rolls of film). Here are some of my recent film photos below:

I’m looking forward to taking more photos this year. Maybe I’ll have a new “favorite photograph.” It’s okay if I don’t. I already have this one.

Washington, D.C.

I’m continuing my “city” kick and I’m going to write about my home away from home - D.C.

I love D.C. I loved living in D.C. I would move back if all of my friends did too. In some ways, I think it’s the perfect city. Here’s why:

1. There is so much culture and art. There’s literally no way to avoid all of the museums, galleries, and historic architecture. The city is steeped in history, but it’s more than the nation’s capitol. What I love about it, is every museum or gallery is FREE. You don’t have to go far to experience a new culture, or history, or art, and it is truly accessible to everyone. I think removing that barrier to access does a lot to foster inclusivity and curiosity in things outside of oneself.

   • Renwick Gallery - This is my favorite gallery that I’ve ever been to. It’s one of the only buildings with French architecture in the city and was saved by Jackie Kennedy. The tectonic plates exhibit in the main room is usually there and I have spent hours on the floor, staring up at it. They rotate exhibits regularly and it’s right across from my favorite government building (the Eisenhower Executive Office Building). Don’t @ me about how nerdy it is to have a favorite government building.

   • National Portrait Gallery - I love portraits. I love this gallery. It’s big enough to spend a few hours, but not overwhelming enough to feel discombobulated. I think it is perfectly rated.

   • Museum of African American History and Culture - Despite the hype, I think this museum is still underrated. It’s my favorite Smithsonian and if you’re walking through it with intention, it’ll take at least an entire day to navigate. It’s so informative and well-organized. I learn so, so much every time I visit and I love that you’re walking through time. The cafeteria is also pretty great, so don’t miss out on that.

2. D.C. is a good food city. Most restaurants are pretty good. A lot of restaurants are pretty great. If you choose to take a gastrointestinal tour of the city, you won’t be disappointed. I didn’t realize how spoiled I was when I lived there. When I miss D.C. the most, it’s usually the food I miss first.

   • 2 Amys near the Cathedral - This is my “last meal” meal. I’m serious. I dream of their classic Neapolitan pizza (the 2Amys) with their crushed Aleppo pepper. I also recommend getting the vanilla ice cream with a side of the cherries they reserve for their almond cake. It’s a pro move. Everything I’ve had here is amazing and their atmosphere is busy, but cozy at the same time. I’m not kidding that their pizza is the best and I could eat it everyday and still not have enough. They don’t take reservations, so be prepared for a little bit of a wait.

   • The Coffee Bar in Midtown? - There’s a question mark, because midtown is this new phenomenon that just popped up. I’ve heard it called the golden triangle before, too. Either way, I just call it the Coffee Bar on 17th and M. This is my favorite coffee shop, ever (besides the one I worked at, RIP). Their seasonal, cardamom latte is my absolute favorite and I love pairing it with their sour cherry and vanilla bean scone.

   • Lapis in Adams Morgan/Kalorama - This restaurant is a Michelin Bib Gourmand, which means it’s an amazing value (I think, idk google it). This was in my old neighborhood, so I spent a lot of time here. I think their Korma is my favorite dish, but I’ve never had anything bad here (except I had one, really bad date… he sucked but the food was still good).

   • Rumi’s Kitchen in Mount Vernon Square - This restaurant is relatively new, but I’ve been there three times so far. I don’t live in D.C. anymore, but I’ve managed to go every time I visit. I’m committed to kebabs, what can I say? The restaurant is busy, so book in advance. I get the traditional sheesh kebab and I’m obsessed with their little herb starter and the sumac on the side for sprinkling over the rice. Genius.

   • Beau Thai in Mount Pleasant - This restaurant was a dangerous, 12-minute walk from my old apartment. I will ride or die by Beau Thai. I mean it. I’ve had it delivered to the office on my shorter D.C. trips so I could still get a hit when I needed it. Get their drunken noodles with chicken and their mango sticky rice for me.

   • Old Ebbitt near the White House - I’m not going to lie, this place is full of tourists and I’ve only had one menu item. I’m obsessed with buffalo wings. It’s a problem. Old Ebbitt has the best wings in the city, I’ve housed so many of them at the bar after a long day at work. If you’re going to get them, you have to get them double-dipped, double-fried.

   • Rasika in the West End - This place is popular for a reason, not just because it was Obama’s favorite. I genuinely don’t think you could find better Indian food in the city. Make sure to book in advance.

   • Duke’s Grocery or Counter in Dupont/Woodley - This place holds a lot of nostalgia for me. I remember many a summer Friday spent on their front patio. They have one of the best burgers in town, but I’m really in it for their Mac and cheese and their elote. Either location is great.

   • Breadfurst in Van Ness - This one is a hike, but worth it if you love bread and pastries. I like everything they make and they rotate their menu based on… I’m not sure, but it’s fun to not know what you’re getting before you get it. I’m impartial to their mozzarella and pesto baguette or their monkey bread or their bear claw.

   • Sundevich in Shaw - I’ve only been to the Georgetown location, so I can’t speak to the Shaw one. But, they have the best sandwiches in the city. I recommend ordering some to go and having a picnic somewhere.

   • Arepa Zone in Midtown - I love Arepas and it’s dangerous to have them one whole block away from the office. I was notorious for organizing a large group to get arepas and then ultimately responsible for the lethargy in the afternoon as everyone processed their heavy lunches. Whoops! Get extra garlic sauce. Just do it.

   • La Cosecha near Union Market - Everyone loves Union Market, but I think it’s overhyped. La Cosecha is still a market/food hall, but all of the stalls are latin-inspired. It’s a fun way to try new flavors and it’s a beautiful space.

3. You can walk everywhere. By now, you know that I love to walk. The best way to get to know a city is to walk, get lost, and find something new and unexpected. D.C. is perfect for walking without a destination. I spent so much time walking into Rock Creek Park and letting it spit me out somewhere new. I logged a lot of miles when I lived there. It’s relatively easy to navigate and there’s always a main road that will lead you back home.

   • The Cathedral - I have logged hundreds of miles to the National Cathedral and back. I’m not Christian, but I’ve found my own peace there. It’s the perfect place to sit on a picnic blanket and just read or enjoy a 2Amys pizza with friends. So much social distancing happened on the Cathedral grounds, and it’s probably my favorite place in the city.

   • Dunbarton Oaks - I loved the walk from Rockcreek Park to Dunbarton Oaks. All of it is shaded and you’re rewarded with a nice park to enjoy a picnic. This was my regular walk when I needed to clear my head, and you almost forget that you’re in a city.

   • Georgetown Waterfront - I love Georgetown. I know. It’s touristy. All people do is shop. I like to shop - sue me! I especially like the waterfront and looking over the Potomac in the early morning or as the sun sets. The Key Bridge was described to me as “one, sexy bridge” and I have never stopped referring to it as such. Georgetown isn’t transit accessible, thanks to those pretentious residents, so walking to and from is kind of your best bet.

4. Public transit is not bad! It’s actually kind of great. After experiencing Boston’s Transit system, I will never speak badly about the D.C. Metro. She’s reliable, functional, even if she’s not pretty or new. I will say, I prefer the buses. I love being above ground and the L2, 42, and 43 buses have never let me down. If they did, I probably repressed it… and that’s okay.

5. The people are nice. When everyone is from somewhere else, there’s a shared sense of choice - people chose to be there and make it home (even if it is for a little while). It’s normal to walk outside your door and hear half a dozen languages and see people from all walks of life. People say hello and nod in your direction. They give directions. They let you pet their dogs. It was a culture-shock when I first moved to Boston and experienced the exact opposite. I’m used to it now, but D.C. goes against the East Coast stereotype.

D.C. has earned its place as my home away from home. I grew up there. I discovered so much of myself there. I had the best five years there. I am really grateful that she’s only a one-hour and six-minute flight away, and that I’ve been able to keep up with my hair appointments with the only white man I trust (shoutout to Chris at Luigi Parasmo).

I hope you call me before and after your next trip to D.C. to tell me that I’m right, because I usually am.

2023

2023 was a bad year for the blog. I only posted once. I journaled a lot in the first half of the year, and stopped trying in the second. Originally, I thought this would be a “throw-away year.” If I tried, maybe I could forget it.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that there is no such thing as a “throw-away year.” I learned things about myself (especially when I didn’t want to). I traveled to new and old places. I made so many wonderful memories. Sure, there’s stuff I want to block out, but then I wouldn’t be the version of myself that I am today. I like this version of me.

So what happened this year? I graduated with my masters (after staying awake for 38 hours to write my capstone). I became a Revs season ticket member and I got on the jumbo screen a total of SEVEN times. I took 41 flights, most of them delayed. I spent $100 on body glitter and spent the year distributing it across friends and strangers alike. I’ve been called a “glitter dealer” or “glitter mommy.” Glitter is the medium through which I spread joy and I’m glad that there was so much of it in my year.

It wasn’t all glitter and rainbows, but that’s okay. I cried. A lot. I got into fights. I lost friends. I had my heart broken (in a couple of ways). I learned from the hard moments and I feel more capable than ever before. I have more happy days than sad ones.

When I thought about how I wanted to reflect on my year, I thought about my favorite things - songs, movies, pictures, etc. I decided that I want to share some of them with you:

• Favorite Film: Cha Cha Real Smooth

  • This is a film about a recent college grad that goes home and becomes a party starter for bat mitzvahs. He ends up falling for a parent. I laughed. I cried. I smiled a whole lot. The main character’s rizz is off the freakin’ charts, and every character is so expressive. The entire film is wholesome, but I loved the two scenes where they talk about soulmates and what depression feels like. Please watch it, then call me so we can discuss.

• Favorite Place: The Tree Farm

  • I got to visit the farm twice this year. Kaitlin and her family were kind enough to share their slice of California with me and it’s so special. I love waking up to the smell of trees every morning. I also like going upstairs each morning and sharing a cup of coffee while watching the sun stream in through the windows and being surrounded by all the leaves. I love feeling like time stands still and being surprised when each day ends. Everywhere you look, you can feel Kaitlin’s design influence. I’m so lucky to have seen Kaitlin’s curated spaces and they radiate warmth and elegance. I always feel so inspired there. It could not be more perfect.

• Favorite Recipe: Brown Butter Rice Krispy Treats

  • Alex and I used to work together and she brought these Rice Krispy treats into the office once. I never stopped thinking about them. I think I made them four weeks in a row and I’d do it again.

  • Ingredients:

    • 1 c (2 sticks) unsalted butter

    • 1/2 vanilla bean

    • 1/2 tsp kosher salt

    • 9 c rice cereal

    • 2 (10 oz) bags of mini marshmallows

  • Directions:

    • Spray 9x13 baking pan with butter or oil

    • Add butter to large sauce pan over low heat until it is brown

    • Once butter is browned, add salt and vanilla (seeds scraped out of the pod)

    • Mix in marshmallows and stir until homogenous

    • Turn off heat and add cereal - use a wooden spoon or rubber spatula to coat cereal evenly

    • Spread into pan and even out the top - cool at least one hour before cutting

• Favorite Songs: I made you a playlist. Of course I did.

  • Pepas: I played this song when the clock struck midnight on new years. I have requested it on every dance floor I’ve been on and played it on the way to every soccer game. It’s the perfect hype song, every time.

  • Ranjha: I saw a wedding video of two Bollywood actors and lost my mind. I played this song about 100 times in a row, and it ended up being at the top of my Spotify wrapped. It feels really warm and celebratory - great feelings to hold on to.

  • Not Strong Enough: Boygenius came out with an almost perfect album and I got to see them perform this year. I chose this song, because I’ll always remember Thompson and I playing it on a loop through the roads of Virginia and screaming along to the lyrics.

  • The Grudge: This song cuts and describes how I felt for a lot of the year. Olivia Rodrigo really knows how to speak to love and loss, in a way that feels like she’s singing about/for me. I loved her new album as a whole.

  • Pulaski at Night: I went to a concert by myself for the first time this year. I saw Andrew Bird in Bozeman, MT. I absolutely loved him and can’t believe that he whistles like that in real life. I had to choose between this song or “Make a Picture.” I chose this song, because I didn’t expect it on the set list and was elated when I heard the first notes.

  • Now That We Don’t Talk: I had a friendship end abruptly this year, and this song speaks to that feeling of loss. It’s about the things you can’t say and won’t have a chance to ever again. It’s surprisingly upbeat for such bummer lyrics, which speaks to how I feel about the situation.

  • Get Him Back!: Olivia Rodrigo does it again. This song is genius. The double entendre. The pithy lyrics. The bridge of all bridges. This song speaks to an internal quarell - the push and pull of wanting what’s not good for you. It is catchy as hell.

  • Northern Attitude: I learned about Noah Khan through Olivia Rodrigo’s cover of “Stick Season.” I love his New England vibe and he’s really having a moment. He paired up with Hozier (one of my favorite white men), for this version of Northern Attitude. Their voices melt together like Brown Butter Rice Krispy Treats. The song captures that winter feeling. I also would put Hozier’s new album on your listening list - “Unknown” is a masterpiece.

  • People Watching: I only know about Conan Gray, because of Olivia Rodrigo’s tik toks. A theme! This song encapsulates how I feel at the end of the year and singing along feels cathartic.

I hope this gave you some insight to the year I’ve had. I can’t wait for the next one. Hopefully there will be more blogs in 2024.

Denver

A couple of years ago, I made my first trip out to Denver. Katie, a dear friend of mine, moved from D.C. and created a life out there. At the time, it seemed like everyone I knew also had someone they knew move to Denver. All I heard was the hype. “People are outside! They are young! They are sporty! There are mountains! So. Many. Mountains!”

I think you need to know that I was hipster before it was cool. Seriously. I hated hype. If people were obsessed with it, I was obsessed with avoiding it. Call it my “main character syndrome” or one of my many “red flags.” I just didn’t want to lean into the Denver hype, but I was determined to visit Katie.

She and I were in the trenches together (as baristas at the same side hustle). We passed our time by exploring every restaurant in D.C. We’d eaten at every ice cream establishment throughout the city and battled our lactose intolerance the entire time. I got to introduce her to Bollywood and Mamma Mia and DIY oat milk (0/10 do not recommend making your own oat milk). I was bummed she left, but I knew it was only a matter of time until I visited her in Denver.

I was very skeptical until the moment I landed and saw the mountains in the skyline. On my very first trip, I got to head to those mountains. I was picked up by Nicole, an almost complete stranger. I had never met her before I jumped in her car and drove 2.5 hours to a mountain town, called Salida. This is where you tell me that I could have been kidnapped – that I shouldn’t get into cars with strangers, especially strangers that sit with one of their legs up on the seat while eating a salad out of Tupperware and going 70 mph on mountain roads. I could have died. Instead, I made a new best friend.

We spent the night in Salida and headed to the Sand Dunes National Park the next day. It was beautiful… and hot. I burned the shit out of my feet walking on the hot sand and we had to retreat pretty quickly. Despite my ill preparation, I was enamored by Colorado. The people were nice. The views were unmatched. The food was good. The friends were precious.

I waited all of two weeks before I came to Denver again. I finessed a work trip to visit a partner in a rural Colorado town with 898 people. I got to produce a story with that partner as a teenage workforce tackled food insecurity in their community. They welcomed me with open arms and I’ll always remember that experience.  

I’ve been to Denver half a dozen times since my first trip. I love it there and would have moved if the pandemic hadn’t stopped me. My childhood best friend beat me to it, and moved to Denver first. Joyeeta is living her best life and I got to visit last week. She almost convinced me to move, but I’ve seen my fate and it’s tangled up in the East Coast. Even so, I trust her recommendations with my life, and we’ve gotten to explore a lot of Denver together. She’s now another reason to come back to this place. I hope this blog either convinced you to visit or convinced you that my friendships are special.

Either way, now that you’ve made it through, here are some of my curated recommendations:

Food:

• Jerusalem Restaurant – This middle eastern restaurant is the best hole in the wall in any city I’ve been. I recommend getting take out and going over to Wash Park to have the best picnic of your dang life.

• Sweet Cow Ice Cream – This is worth the game of lactose roulette. I have never been disappointed by a flavor and it’s almost always busy, but seriously worth it.

• Post Oak – This barbeque place rivals many in Texas. I cannot recommend the smoked turkey enough and their breakfast kolaches are fluffy and perfect.

• Dio Mio – This handmade pasta place has a great indoor/outdoor vibe and their pasta is SO good. I don’t think you can go wrong with any of the menu options.

• Denver Milk Market – This is one of those public markets with a bunch of food stalls. It’s a cool area with a ton of shops if you’re looking to pack it in.

• Urban Farmer Denver – If you’re interested in going “balls to the wall” and having a true farm to table experience that you pay a little too much for, I recommend this restaurant.

• Hoja – This restaurant is in my favorite South Pearl neighborhood and has a classic Mexican menu with some surprising gems (pickled cucumbers, anyone?).

• Latke Love – Another hole in the wall in Littleton (a suburban oasis). The latkes are “no fuss” and they are perfect for a lazy Saturday morning.

• Any of the carts at the City Park Farmers Market. The samosa guy may or may not be in love with me and I may or may not be in love with their brisket samosa.

• Linger or any place by Edible Roots – I haven’t been here, but it comes highly recommended and I’ve tried to get on the list MULTIPLE times and failed. Make a reservation in advance and tell me how it was.

Coffee:

• Steam Espresso – A coffee shop in my favorite part of town. It’s the perfect place to sit down with a coffee and pastry to work or crank out some blogs.

• Fluid Coffee Bar – Less pretentious and homier. I like their uptown location, but their downtown location is convenient if you’re there on business.

• Prodigy Coffee House – This is a nonprofit coffee shop that hires young adults into their apprenticeship program. I love their youth engagement mission and the atmosphere is great.

Outside of Denver:

• Chautauqua Trail in Boulder – It’s a short trail and it was my first solo hike. The views are incredible and it is manageable for someone coming from sea level.

• Lake Dillon Trail – It’s also a short trail and even more low-key than Chautauqua, because it’s paved. It’s great for beginners.

• Red Rocks Amphitheater – All live music should be outside in the mountains. I’ve seen a couple of shows here and they’ve completely changed the listening experience. I can explain it well, but you have to see a show there to experience it for yourself.

• Crested Butte – This was the first place I camped, and I almost died (but it was kind of worth it). The town is quaint and there was a surprisingly good Nepalese restaurant. There’s an annual 5k if you’re into that sort of thing.

The World Cup for People Who Don’t Watch the World Cup

I wrote my last blog on my moral quandary about the World Cup. I haven’t resolved those feelings, but I’ve let myself watch the games and there are moments that have stuck with me. Here they are in timeline order:

• Grealish’s Goal Celebration during ENG vs. IRN:

  I am always enamored by goal celebrations. They give insight into a player’s personality and the team dynamic. There’s something about unadulterated joy that’s so contagious. Even when someone is scoring against my team, I still (usually) give them props. On November 21, England had six opportunities to celebrate. It was the last goal that sparked my interest. Jack Grealish did a little arm wiggle when he scored in the 90th minute.

  Turn’s out, Jack had met a fan a few weeks prior. The boy, Finlay, has cerebral palsy and had written to his favorite footballer. Jack’s own sister lives with the condition and there’s a precious video of them meeting each other. In the video, Jack promises to dedicate his next goal and celebration to Finlay. Finlay asks Jack to do the worm, which Jack declines - saying he doesn’t know how to do it. They decide on an arm wiggle instead. Jack fulfills his promise, as his next goal just happened to be at the World Cup.

  I found the moment to be wholesome and heartwarming - a reminder of what football can mean to people. That little boy will cherish that goal for a lifetime, and it puts things into perspective. It restored some excitement around the sport for me.

• USA’s Goal Against Wales

  Here’s the thing - I didn’t have the U.S. going very far in my bracket. I was rooting for them, but I was rooting for Gareth Bale more (look him up and you’ll get it). It was to my complete and utter surprise when Tim Weah scored the first goal for the U.S. I screamed so loud that my roommate was concerned. When I told her what happened, we both chanted “U-S-A, U-S-A” for about a minute straight. That goal ignited my patriotism and I was glad to see us end in a tie (with Bale scoring the goal for Wales).

  I liked getting to learn more about the Weah legacy and what a World Cup goal meant for him and his father (a former footballer that won the prestigious Ballon d’Or). His father never got to go to the World Cup, so it was a big deal for his son to score that first goal. I shared all these details and more, as I reenacted the big goal for my roommates that missed the game. I’m way better than an instant replay or a highlights reel.

• Richarlson’s Goal on Thanksgiving

  Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. This year, I spent it with my friend Liz and her people. I’ve forced her to go to many a Revs game with me, so she’s aware of my obsession with the sport. She turned on the BRA vs. SRB game just as Richarlson scored his first goal. Then, at the 73rd minute, we watched him scissor kick into a second goal. It was genuinely beautiful to watch. We watched with a family friend of Liz’s, who was from Panama and grew up loving the Brazilian National Team because of Pele (who is currently hospitalized).

  The Brazil Team has gotten some slack online about their dancing at the end of games, which is kind of silly to me. When we start restricting how people can celebrate, we’re taking away from tradition and culture. So, let them dance!

• USA vs. IRN

  This game was intense for a number of reasons, and it started with the press conferences. Tyler Adams, the USMNT captain, was asked how he could play for a country where Black people are treated unjustly. The 23-year old gave a response: “It’s a process and as long as you see progress, that’s the most important thing.” I recommend watching the whole clip. I was proud to have him represent the men’s team and speak so honestly.

  Iran had a lot on the line, with the nation’s uprising for the murder of Mahsa Amini. The team captain, Ehsan Hajsafi offered “condolences to all the grieving families in Iran,” during a press conference. The players refused to sing the national anthem in solidarity with protesters. The team is government sponsored and there can be real ramifications if the players don’t win. They lost the game to the U.S. and it was heartbreaking to watch.

  The part that had the most impact, was when Antonee Robinson hugged an Iranian player on the pitch after the final whistle. He held Ramin Rezian as he cried, and I couldn’t help but admire that human moment between two people. It really is more than a game, and there’s more on the line than just winning and losing. That moment of true sportsmanship will stick with me.

• The Death of My Bracket

  This seems silly compared to everything else, but I was so excited for my World Cup bracket. I was number one in the league (tied with six others) for about 90 minutes. I was insufferable the entire time. My bracket took multiple hits with Wales and Mexico not advancing. I don’t care what is statistically reasonable, I was still rooting for them. I’m far too competitive for someone who barely knows what’s going on.

  I even outsourced my second chance bracket to a friend’s child. Unfortunately, I was told that “we’re born alone. We die alone. We pick our brackets alone.” - Orson Welles via CJP.

  Harsh but fair.

  Now that my bracket is dead, I can enjoy each game for what it is. I can feel for Japan’s loss during the penalty shootouts and cheer with Morocco for their historic win. I’ll watch the rest of the games, but I wanted to share some other articles I’ve been reading and podcasts I’ve been listening to fuel my moral quandary:

• Why Bangladesh is going mad for Messi’s Argentina

• Nike vs Adidas in World Cup Battle of the Brands

• The Last Cup on Messi Economics

• Anything Adam Crafton writes about migrant workers in Qatar.

I Believe That We Will Change

On May 7th, I fell in love. I went to my first soccer game. I saw the New England Revolution play against the Columbus Crew. My friend Alana invited me and I don’t think either of us knew what we were getting into. It only took that one game for me to fall completely in love.

There’s just something about being in the stands. Cheering with others, jumping up and down, hoping that your team will score that goal - the one that wins the game. We won that game. I like to think that my presence had something to do with it. I tend to test the limits of my vocal cords and I’m convinced that the players can hear me.

I walked into the stadium, knowing nothing. I walked out of the stadium, wanting to learn everything. I made charts and memorized players. I used every condiment in the fridge to reenact plays. I actually learned the offsides rule. I have committed to the bit, and I understand why they call it the most beautiful game (obviously because of the players, right??).

I want to say that I have loved every minute, but things always get complicated when athletes are paid to play. Capitalism ruins everything good in life. I think I was shocked by how much money is actually involved. There’s really no concept of pay equity (and I haven’t even started to unpack the discrepancy between men and women in the sport). Your team is only as good as the amount of money they spend in the transfer window (I’m not sure if I’m exaggerating here). And a reminder that where there’s capitalism, there’s politics.

As a new fan, I was excited that my new love for the sport coincided with the timing of the World Cup. That is, until I found out that Qatar was hosting.

My family is from Bangladesh. 94 percent of Qatar’s workforce is made up of migrant workers, many of them from countries like Bangladesh. What I know of Qatar, is the abuse of these migrant workers - akin to slavery. I know that if I were to go there, I would experience racism/xenophobia (for being Bangladeshi) and gendered discrimination (for being a woman). This is not a country where people can live in peace, especially when there are so many human rights violations and LGBTQ+ people are not safe to love who they love.

So, how can a country like this win the privilege of hosting the World Cup? Corruption.

There are so many people that have spoken on this issue better than I can. I recommend listening to World Corrupt or reading this piece by Musa Okwonga.

Personally, I was deeply affected by the reports of worker conditions and the deaths of migrant workers. The numbers are horrific. Thousands of people dead from things like heat exhaustion, while Qatar claims that only three people died building the stadiums. They tout these new stadiums steeped in the blood of migrant workers, with no one to hold them accountable.

Not the media - which they have restricted. Not FIFA - whose corruption allowed for this in the first place. Their best bet is that fans will shift their focus once the games start. I think Okwonga says it best: “it is almost as if the current political moment is goading us, asking us just how much more we are prepared to overlook in our lust for a few weeks of entertainment.”

I don’t know how to enjoy this World Cup, knowing what I know. This cup means so much to so many people. I want to shout, and cheer, and bully colleagues in the work zoom channel about which bracket will win. It feels wrong, but what changes if I choose not to watch? What can an individual do to change what’s already been done? That feels like a question that applies to every social justice issue.

I don’t have an answer.

I found this petition asking FIFA to compensate families of migrant workers for their wrongful deaths. Personally, I’d like to hold advertisers accountable and ask them to condemn Qatar’s human rights violations and make donations to organizations working to right these wrongs (for migrant workers, for women, for LGBTQ+ communities). I want a change in FIFA leadership and transparency of votes or some kind of required disclosure of meetings between delegations and “gifts” exchanged. I want a published list of the names of all those who died, so we can remember them forever.

I just want things to be fair. I don’t know how to do that yet.

I did enter the office pool. I watched the first games. I feel guilty and am trying to reconcile these feelings - hence this blog.

I look forward to the end of this World Cup. I look forward to cheering for Liverpool through the season. I look forward to going to the first Revs game of the new year. I’ll still nurture this love of soccer (yea, I know it should be called football). I’ll keep believing that things will change. They have to.

Less Masshole Energy

In September of 2021, I moved to New England. Tucked away, just outside of “Boston-proper", is me.

I never planned to move here. In fact, I made a mental note not to live here. Each visit was riddled with flight delays, bad weather, worse driving - you name it. School forced my hand, and based on this blog from October, I was not happy about it.

I’ll be honest. My first few months were rough. I drove into a parked car on my first day (damn these narrow, one way streets). I got honked at - constantly. I got lost. I had regular anxiety attacks in public. I wondered if I would ever make friends. I missed everything about the life I left behind in DC. I could blame it on my busy school and work schedule, but I didn’t try to acclimate.

I felt like the new kid in school, not knowing where to sit at lunch. It feels like so much relies on something so small, but you can’t put a price on comfort. For the first six months, I wasn’t comfortable. I was holding my breath, hoping that my dad would come pick me up and it would all be okay.

Of course that plan failed, but I made small strides. Classes went well. I made new friends. I rekindled old friendships. People came to visit and I played tourist. I threw a “kickback” or two. I found places that were mine - a trail, a pond, and a beach. I actually think the proximity to water has the most to do with it. Except, I also have a home team to root for (shout out to my New England Revs). I think I even… like it here now.

I can see a future here, one where I might even get season tickets for the Revs..

I don’t know what’s become of me. Don’t get me wrong, there are still things I hate: traffic, transit, Logan airport, etc. Each day gets a little easier, and who knows where I’ll be a year from now? In the mean time, I’ll enjoy my water and my soccer and my cute little house on a busy, one-way street.

Riya (Drives Too Fast and Asks Too Many Questions) on the Road

This summer, I’ve been spending a lot of time on the road. It’s very on brand.

I love to drive. Other people don’t love when I drive. Other people have told me that I drive like a white man - as if the rules don’t apply to me and that there aren’t consequences for my actions.

I love driving on a highway. I love the feeling of having an open road, with no cars in the left lane, and a playlist that is filled with top to bottom bangers. I love being in cars with friends or colleagues or both (fro-workers) and spontaneously erupting into song (specifically, Super Bass by Nicki Minaj). I love filling the time by asking invasive questions when we’re all trapped in a moving vehicle and no one can easily escape.

These questions were selected at random, but I loved asking and answering them. I thought I would share, in case you’re trapped in a car with me… or anyone else, and you want to be a thoughtful and intentional nuisance.

• What is one cliche or idiom that you believe to be false? Why?

  • My response was: “if you love your job, you’ll never work a day in your life.” Capitalism really popped off with that one and no one should love their job that much.

• What’s your coolest scar?

• What’s the best purchase you made during the pandemic?

• What do you do when you first wake up?

• Where do you feel most at peace?

• Where would you want a vacation home?

• How would your friends describe you? Do you agree with them?

• What are your love languages?

• What’s your favorite Mariah Carey song? Taylor Swift? Britney Spears?

• Backed into a corner, no weapons allowed, how many seven year olds can you take in a fight?

• What’s your idea of a perfect dessert? Everyone has one.

• What's the worst compliment you’ve ever received?

• I have to credit Cindy for the next set of questions:

  • If you had a band, what’s your band name, who’s in the band, what’s the name of your first album and the first five songs, and who causes the band to break up and why?

Now I have a question for you: How fast is too fast on a highway? Asking for a friend. One who drives like a white man, but in a really cute hybrid.

Gal Pals Girls Trip

Sometimes, you love a place - not for its location, but for the people that are there. To understand my attachment to Southern California, you have to understand some things about my gal pals.

Kaitlin and I happen to work at the same place. We happened to go to the same undergraduate institution. We happened to grow up 30 minutes away from each other in Dallas suburbs. We happened to move out of DC at the same time. I wish you could have seen our attempts at saying goodbye in a parking lot of a bubble tea shop, right before I drove to Boston.

I met Kathryn through Kaitlin. She was one of my first real friends in DC. We have shared many a cheese board, Bollywood night, and rooftop rager. She is fierce and brilliant and left DC a few years before us to become the lawyer she is today. When Kathryn moved away from DC, I wondered what distance would do to our friendship. Despite the miles and miles between us, I think we got closer. She’s listened to my boy problems, walked through outfit and makeup choices, debated the best rom com, and still dominated at mini golf when she had the chance (I’m still not over the loss).

The three of us are split across the country - representing the east coast, the mid-west, and the west coast. The Gal Pals reunited in May, to visit Kaitlin in her new habitat. We got to see a little bit of everything, thanks to Kaitlin - the best host anyone could ever ask for. We split our time between the Farm, Malibu, and LA.

“The Farm” is an actual tree farm an hour outside of LA. At the Farm, we enjoyed leisurely walks amongst the trees, picked avocados and various citrus fruits, made shrimp tacos, and discussed paint swatches. We had the most peaceful start to our trip and it took no time to fall back into our Gal Pal rhythm.

From there, we headed to Malibu. We stayed on the beach, and I mean THE BEACH. I actually cried when I first saw the view. There is nothing like falling asleep to the sounds of the ocean. We did a lot of walking, a fair amount of eating, and some sight seeing/museum attending. I didn’t really take any photos. I’m not mad about that. I think I have more to say, but I’d rather sit with the memories from the trip and use the rest of my words to thank Kaitlin and Kathryn for their friendship. I really don’t know where I’d be without friends like them.

Because I’m supposedly running a travel blog, here’s a list of places we visited:

• Meals

  • All Time in Los Feliz - A great little place that’s farm to table, and I still can’t stop thinking about the scone I had.

  • Broad Street Oyster Co. in Malibu - A lobster roll I can actually get behind.

  • Sunset Restaurant in Malibu - Don’t eat there, just go to the beach that’s right next to it. Trust me.

  • Quarters Korean BBQ in Koreatown - You literally can’t go wrong with Korean BBQ. There’s a little shopping complex, so you can pop into shops while you’re waiting.

  • Eggs ‘N’ Things in Camarillo - A precious little breakfast place, known for their Swedish pancakes. They do not have turkey sausage, they will give you a turkey burger patty if you ask.

• Sights

  • La Brea Tarpits - Kaitlin made us go, and I was a brat the entire time… but it was a good laugh.

  • LA County Museum of Art - It’s popular for a reason. The Barbara Kruger exhibit was thought-provoking, and I think I spent the longest in the Modern Art exhibit - specifically, I enjoyed the Camille Pissarro pieces, the Clyfford Still piece, and “Wrong” by John Baldessari.

• Shops

  • Abbott Kinney

  • Malibu Village - I fell in love with a vintage surf shop, called Surfing Cowboys. I wish I could take all of their prints home, but I settled with a t-shirt instead.

• Movies we Binged

  • Princess Diaries 1 and 2

  • Mamma Mias 1 and 2

  • Notting Hill

Preparing for Riya On the Road

I’m back on the road this summer. It’s been a while, and I’m making up for it in a big way. I’m traveling for the next twelve weeks and visiting about 13 different states/places in that time. I need to prepare.

I start by writing down all of my travel on paper, my phone, and my email calendars. Reinforcing the schedule helps ensure that I know where I’m going and when. My itineraries are intense but fairly organized.

Most of my travel is for work and my itineraries are planned by the minute. When I can, I prioritize meals and look for restaurants and coffee shops to hit during my trip. I love coffee and it’s an easy way to build in breaks during the trip and a way to support local coffee shops and baristas. I typically use yelp or google to determine where I want to go (I look for things above 4.3 stars, because I just do okay). I also like to visit state capitols. If I’m close to one, I use my down time to walk and explore the capitol and learn a little about the history of the state I’m in. Lastly, I rely on recommendations from people on the ground. I’ll never know a place better than the people that live there, so I take recommendations from colleagues, hotel staff, or even baristas (it takes one to know one).

Packing:

I’ve been traveling with my Away Carry-On since 2018 and I swap sizes depending on the length of my trip: 4 or less days with the smaller carry-on and 5 or more days with the bigger carry-on.

What’s in my suitcase for a Four-Day trip:

·       2 bottoms because I need to mix and match pieces, so I’m not wearing the same thing two days in a row

·       1 sleep set

·       Tops: 

• 1 long sleeve tshirt for field attire depending on weather

• 1 short sleeve tshirt for field attire depending on weather

• 1 blouse or dress for a nicer outing

·       Undergarments (too many tbh)

·       1 reusable water bottle because I’m eco-friendly

·       Skincare and Makeup because I’m hot

·       1 pillow because I can’t sleep on other pillows

·       1 sleeping bag liner because I can’t sleep on other sheets and don’t trust hotels

·       1 pair of back-up shoes (usually birkenstocks) because sneakers don’t go with everything

What’s in my personal bag:

·       1-2 cameras (canon m50, papershoot and/or DJI Osmo Pocket)

·       Glasses and Sunglasses because I have eyes

·       Extra Masks because it’s still a pandemic

·       Hand Sanitizer because planes are gross

·       Lysol Wipes because planes are gross

·       Lens Cleaner Wipes because glasses and screens can get gross fast

·       Nail File because I’ve broken too many nails while traveling and better safe than sorry

·       Comb or Brush because I have hair

·       Aspirin, Cough Drops, Allergy Meds, and spare Bandaids because my body may fail me

·       Lip Balm because planes are particularly drying

·       Headphones because I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts

·       Laptop so I can work until I die

·       Assorted Chargers and Spare Battery so my electronics can work and don’t have to die

·       Journal so I can write and remember where I’ve been and what I’ve done

What I’m wearing on the plane:

·       1 pair of jeans because they are hard to pack but easy to wear

·       1 shirt depending on the weather

·       1 sweater or jacket because planes can get cold

·       1 pair of compression socks because vascular health is important

·       1 baseball hat to look unapproachable, so fellow passengers won’t talk to me

·       Latex gloves because planes are gross

·       N95 mask because we’re in a pandemic

·       Sneakers because I need arch support

This may seem like an excessive list, but every item has a purpose and a justification for why they are included. I’ve curated this list over the last 6 years, so dude, trust me. During a busy season, my suitcases are always packed and I swap items as needed. My goal is to avoid checking a bag at all costs and to move through security as quickly as possible.

The American Bargain

The portrait of America, is a paradoxical one. The narratives paint a picture of strength and unity. The resources are as limitless as the GDP per capita is high. Every citizen is sold a ticket to the American Dream, where hard work pays for financial security and long-term wealth. How can you fail in a country where education is accessible, where every vote matters, and the market is free? Peel back the paint, and the flaws are clear.

The wealth gap is staggering, the American Dream is unaffordable, and race is one of the leading determinants of health and achievement. In a country founded on the principle that “all men are created equal,” the blame for inequality is placed on the individual - rather than the system.

Even the condition of “America” and “Americans,” as if the terms are exclusive to the United States and its citizens - as if no other countries exist in North America, let alone South America. Let us look through the self-indulgent portrait of America, and understand some of the real social and economic disparities in the United States.

I think about the concept of the American Dream almost daily. It haunts me. I was brought to this country to achieve. I’ve worked at least two jobs since I was 19 years old, now I’m back to working full-time and going to school full-time. I’ve never been unemployed, and yet… I have student loans. I don’t think I can afford to buy a home. I’m terrified of doing my taxes wrong. I don’t understand my health insurance. I’m not a fool, but there are some things that just don’t make sense to me.

We demonize the people who happen to be poor. We marginalize them. We blame them. They are a testament to personal failures and their inability to participate in the free market. They come up in discourse when we’re thinking of billionaires buying apps or going to space. “Imagine what they could do with that money…” Imagine the unethical things that had to occur for them to get that money. Imagine the federal supports that exist for the top 1%, while social welfare policies fight tooth and nail for support. This is the American Bargain.

It makes me sick.

I’m angry, but not hopeless. Here are some things you can do to help:

• Ask Congress to reauthorize child nutrition waivers and help the millions of kids and teens that rely on meals.

• Send a letter or call the White House and ask the President to cancel student loan debt to support millions of Americans.

• Contact your elected officials and ask them about the issues that are important to you. I am asking about campaign finance and tax reform, an increase in minimum wage, and improvements to social welfare programs.

Breaks

Hi. I’m back. Maybe you noticed my absence, it’s more likely you didn’t. Where was I? Well, I was taking a break. Actually, I took a lot of breaks. 

It started with Instagram. One day, I realized that I was posting for a reaction rather than myself. I became embarrassed that I opened myself to judgement from people who could always care less about me. I regretted giving people access to my life and I didn’t know what I was expecting or why my hopes were involved. It got to be too much, so I took a break. 

My break from photography was gradual. At first, I brought my camera with me everywhere. I was always ready should inspiration strike. When I looked back at my photos, I didn’t like them. So, I took less photos. Eventually, I stopped pulling my camera out of my bag. Finally, the camera just stayed at home, and so did I. 

Writing was the hardest break up. I’m typically a fan of my own writing. I feel a sense of accomplishment when I complete a piece, and a sense of pride when I know it’s well-written. It’s probably why I started a blog. I’m still proud of the blogs I’ve posted and reread them from time to time.

One of my college professors always talked about “the tyranny of the blank page.” If you can just get yourself to write something, anything, you can overcome the block and writing will become easier. I succumbed to the blank page. I took a break from the blog. 

Give a break. Take a break. Breaking up. Breaking apart. There’s a lot of breaking that happens before something is broken. I didn’t think about it before. Why am I thinking about it now? My breaks didn’t leave me in a state of disrepair. I am still intact. 

I am finding my way back to the things I left. It took a trip back to DC and my old life to bring me back. It started with a walk to the office, listening to my favorite podcast, in homage to the commutes of the past. I hadn’t listened to said podcast in months, because… you guessed it… I was taking a break. Immediately, I snapped back into reality. 

In all seriousness, it takes an incredible amount of privilege to avoid learning about an impending war. The world doesn’t stop just because you’re taking a break. I’m still processing and I finally have the bandwidth to do so. I don’t know how to end this blog. I don’t know what I want you to leave with. Maybe that, breaks are necessary, but they’re a privilege too. Or maybe that, you have to look up to look past what’s blocking you. Or maybe it all comes back to that blank page. Here’s to finding out. 

Standing on the Sidelines

A microaggression by any other name would smell as sweet… so any act of aggression would. I know this isn’t Shakespeare’s intended use of this metaphor, but it works (right?).

The New Oxford American Dictionary defines a microaggression as “a statement, action or incident regarded as an instance of indirect, subtle, or unintentional discrimination against members of a marginalized group, such as a racial or ethnic minority.” I could list examples of microaggressions, but this article does just that.

The thing about microaggressions, is that they are only small to the aggressor. The people committing the action usually don’t realize the impact of their actions, and don’t have negative intentions. Your intention does not matter. Your impact does. For the people on the other end, those that are impacted, the pain lingers and often builds on itself.

It’s never just one microaggression. These instances build on a foundation of harm and oppression. Where there’s one, there’s more.

In my own experience, it becomes the impacted individual’s responsibility to speak up and educate the aggressor. And if said individual doesn’t process the harm and emotions and calculate an appropriate response in what’s now confirmed as an unsafe space and in record time, then the microaggression just sits there. If no one else speaks up or addresses the aggression, the ignoring of - the ignorance, becomes another microaggression in itself. Thus another brick is laid and the pain and oppression are internalized.

Why does this matter? A silent bystander is an aggressor. There are no sidelines in social justice.

I’ll share my own experience to provide context. I was in class (a class on diversity, equity and inclusion), and a comment was made. I won’t repeat the comment, but it was loaded and brought up issues of Islamophobia and racialized women’s bodies. Immediately, I gasped for air. The comment was made out of rash ignorance, and not intended to harm any of us in the class. I’ll note that the comment was made in the zoom chat for the class.

The rest of the class kept going, but I lost focus. I saw the comment sitting there and I was on edge.

Am I the only one who finds this offensive? Is anyone else going to say something? If I say something, will I disrupt the class? Should I just let it go? Can I let it go?

These and other questions ran through my mind, a mile a minute. I was disengaged. This affected my learning experience, in a class where I had as much right to learn as anyone else. I made a quick judgement and addressed the comment in the chat. I explained my understanding that the intention could be different, but that the impact of the comment was harmful and reinforced Islamophobic and misogynistic beliefs on women’s bodies.

Minutes passed by and my response sat there, unacknowledged. My first thought was “I shouldn’t have said anything.” Then, I started getting private messages thanking me for addressing it. Others felt it too, and chose to message me privately while my response stood alone publicly.

Instead of appreciation for the private acknowledgements, I felt anger. “Why did I have to be the one to say something? Why didn’t you stand up and call out the microaggression? Why won’t you back me up publicly?” I fought through a flood of tears and half a dozen emotions due to a passing comment, and now I had to be witness to bystanders standing by, and then thanking me for letting them sit comfortably on the sidelines.

In this specific instance, I responded to the private messages and asked people to back me up and they did. All of this occurred in the zoom chat, and the class presentations were still going. People seemed to move on. I didn't. I was still fighting through the tears.

It took multiple people privately messaging the professor to bring attention to the issue. Then, something unprecedented happened. Our professor asked us to give this issue space and to uphold our promise to keep one another accountable.

My peers and I shared the emotions and harm that came from the original microaggression. The individual that made the original comment acknowledged the impact, apologized, and committed to learning from the experience and changing the behavior. People also shared why they didn’t speak up. As a cohort, we gave each other the grace and space to be vulnerable and learn from the experience, together.

I realized that my response to the microaggression was compounded by so many other instances, and I understood that this is how it could be. If you find yourself a bystander to a microaggression, here’s what I recommend:

1. How do you identify if the instance is a microaggression? If it brings up feelings of discomfort or is directed towards a member of a marginalized group, acknowledge it. Sometimes, you’ll feel it before you find the words to explain it.

2. See something, say something. If you don’t know what to say or worry that you’re going to say the wrong thing, start with an invitation to clarify. “What did you intend to express when…” Don’t wait for someone else to bring it up first.

3. If someone does bring it up before you, back them up. Share the impact it had on you or share a comment of support/agreement. Don’t let anyone stand alone in this.

4. Give a name/label to the action and resist the urge to place sole blame on the aggressor. Invite the aggressor to learn and change their behavior. These are humbling experiences and learning doesn’t happen by attacking one another.

5. Most importantly, remember that you might be an aggressor and commit a microaggression. If you find yourself on the other side and called to change, own up to the impact, apologize, and commit to restorative action. None of us are immune.

The dismantling of racism and oppression is a shared responsibility. There are no sidelines. Get up and stay up.

Big Masshole Energy

Remember when I felt like Boston and I had more in our complicated story? Well, I hate to say it, but we’re writing some new chapters. These chapters are going to be as long as the New England winter, as discombobulating as an unmarked rotary, and filled with the rage that possesses every driver on these one way streets.

It’s clear that I have a flair for the dramatic. We both know that already. The paragraph above is an exquisite example. The truth is, I don’t like it here. It’s almost like I’m on borrowed time. I won’t be here long enough for it to be home, and this city belongs to someone else. I don’t know when, or if, I’ll ever stop feeling like an outsider.

For all it’s quirks, DC felt like mine. Of course there was an acclimation period, but I always felt like I was on solid ground.

Boston is shaky. Every time I go outside, I almost always end up under a highway. I’m never more religious than when I get behind the wheel. Carrie Underwood has nothing on me. I greet people in my neighborhood, I get grimaces back. I haven’t found a coffee shop I like. The great white shark population is out of control. It’s already hard to make friends as an adult, it’s harder when you’re surrounded by people who’ve been here longer than you and will be here long after you’ve left. I’m just a blip - a temporary deviation from a general trend.

It’s not all bad. I love the house I live in. It’s beautiful and welcoming, although it very well could be haunted. I love coming home to roommates and laughing in the kitchen or comforting each other with waffles after a particularly long week. I found a walking trail. I’ve taken to calling it “my pond.” I wander for hours, ignoring all responsibilities and just asking to get lost. I like my graduate program, most of my classes being online this semester. I have friends that I don’t make time for (I’m sorry), and I’m on the brink of making new ones in my program.

I’m learning how to honk at people. My Texas driving skills have helped me through aggressive highway merges. I bought winter boots. Autumn was kind of nice - all 3 weeks of it. I’m going to stop calling the T, the metro… eventually. I have more to say, but I have a feeling that most of you have dropped off already. I’ll end with this:

This place is full of promise, I just have to make the decision to commit.

My Writing Process

I’m here to answer the question that no one has asked: what exactly is my writing process?

First, I let myself become completely oppressed by the tyranny of the blank page. I sit and stare at my legal pad, hoping that my thoughts will leap onto the paper and somehow form a coherent sentence. Second, I write with a fountain pen, so that strangers in the streets may see my ink-stained hands and wonder if I’m the second coming of Jane Austen. Third, I read and reread everything I’ve ever written and wonder how many brain cells I have left and if I could rub them together.

Harsh, I know. I published my last blog in April. If you look through my legal pad, you’ll see that I started four others, only to leave them incomplete. Writing is not easy. I don’t know how people do it so consistently and how so many others can write things with meaning - things that last. I'm envious of writers.

You don’t have to dig far to find the subject of my last published blog. I wrote it on the death of my grandfather. It’s been months, and I thought I was starting to leave it in the past. If I'm going to be honest, sometimes I let myself forget. Except, I can’t write anything new. I can’t think of anything worthy of note. Nothing really compares to the feelings I had for him and the honest experience of immortalizing him through my own words.

I used to reread my old blogs. I used to think that I wrote for myself, and that I liked what I wrote. Which begs the unfortunate question, do I like myself right now? Is that why I don’t like what I’m writing? Or is it just grief? Did a part of me die with the only person who loved me unconditionally? Will I ever be able to write about something else?

If you’re reading this, I know there might be some cause for concern. Odds are, I’m the only person that will ever read this. I figured that I had tried everything else, so why not write a stream of consciousness blog and see what spills out? There’s not a fountain pen in sight! It’s just me, typing directly into the webpage, not even checking for errors.

Take that, writing process!

He’s Gone

On Monday, April 26th, my grandfather died. I knew him by one name and one name only, “Nana.”

My nana is my maternal grandfather, but “Nana” has a better ring to it. In his lifetime, he fathered five sons and two daughters, and was grandfather to eleven kids. I am the second in his long list of grandchildren, and the first granddaughter. This wouldn’t matter, if we had a typical relationship.

Most people I know get regular time with their grandparents. Whether it’s family holidays or weekends or a couple of weeks in the summer, grandparents are recurring cast members in the typical family dynamic. My parents left everything they knew before I was born. I was the first grandchild that wasn’t born in Bangladesh. My grandparents didn’t meet me until I was four or five years old.

I’d like to say I remember more from the early visits, but I didn’t retain much. I lost my dada (paternal grandfather) and nanu (maternal grandmother) before the age of 10. At the time, I felt my parents’ loss more than my own. Everything I knew of them, I heard from my parents. This didn’t apply to my nana.

The last time I went to Bangladesh was in 2011. This time, I was old enough to remember. Even though more than a decade passed since he last saw me, my nana knew me and loved me all the same. I remember seeing him and calling out “Nana!” Every time I called him “Nana,” he would call me “Nana.” There was always a playful lilt in his voice. I still hear it now.

Nana was a man who lived by his routine. He would always wake up before sunrise for fajr prayer, and then he would go back to sleep for a few more hours. I would wake up with everyone else, and eat breakfast with the rest of the family and dawdle until Nana woke up. He ate the same breakfast everyday: deem bhaji (fried egg), a roti and a banana. I would hear him call “Nanaaa” and I knew he was calling for me.

Every morning for a month, I ate two breakfasts. One with the family, and one with my nana. He would give me exactly half of his meal, feeding me by hand, before he fed himself. There was nothing I could say, he would always feed me first. And that’s the kind of man he was, a man who would always give before taking, a man who put others before himself.

A part of him will always live with me, and yet, I can’t stop thinking about all the things I didn’t do. I would call him after I came back from Bangladesh, and I would feel sorry that he was eating his meals alone again. More and more time would pass between calls, and then they stopped altogether. I would try to talk to my nana, but my heart would ache too much. It just wasn’t the same over the phone, at least for me.

My parents still went back to Bangladesh every few years, and I never thought to go with them. My mom would press the phone to my ear every time she was speaking to someone in Bangladesh, the question was always the same: “when are you coming?” Every time my mom talked to my nana, he would ask about me. If I regret anything in life, it’s not calling him and speaking to him directly - I couldn’t tell him how much it hurts to not be around him, to see him get older and do nothing to help.

I thought about going to Bangladesh again, and never did. I had developed an idea to interview my remaining grandparents and capture our family history. I wanted to document our family with my camera. Every picture I have is borrowed from someone else. I thought about it so many times. Why didn’t I go?

Now, I have a few precious memories of my nana and learn more about him through my parents and their stories. I’ll never get to ask which memory he returns to the most, the best part of being a grandfather, how he wants to be remembered… I’ll remember him as an embodiment of unconditional love, someone who loved me fiercely. I’ll remember him as the most religious man I’ve ever met, who always prayed for others. It’s fitting that he passed during the holy month of Ramadan, but it doesn’t make things any easier.

Two words. That’s how I found out. “He’s gone.” I didn’t see him pass. I didn’t get to tell him what he meant to me. He was just… gone. He was so much more than a grandfather. He was a pillar of our family, a connection to our past, and an example of persistence and humility. Even now, in between tears, I find myself just calling his name “Nana? Nana.”