This is a throwback picture of another kind. Few days back I read a post by @themigratorymum and that made me write this. I have been sitting on this for a while now, as I keep saying, what you see on my blog and my social media is only the best moments captured in a certain way. Life is made up of much more. Social media is a hobby, not my life. So it knows very less about me, but I am now trying to correct that. I don’t talk about my emotions easily. Yes, I may come across as an extrovert but I am actually not. I hide my feelings. But I am cesspool of them, most of us are.
But writing has always been cathartic. Reading her post made me feel that I need to write more from the heart, share the pain too with my social media. It May not be nice to read for all. But will help me deal with it. It is after all my page ?.
You guys remember our recent Europe trip? U Saw stories; ooh and Ahhed with me when I shared the beauty that is the alps, the dream that is Paris, the colour that is Italy. Today I am gonna tell you something black. I had posted the millions of pictures of our Europe vacay coz that’s what you do. You post the fantabulous moments of your normally mundane life on Facebook. ??♀️ and Europe was AMAZING. But life is made up of experiences good and bad. Read on as I feel this needs to be said.I hid this till now, coz I was not ready to share. As I said, I hide the dark bits, because I am scared to share the raw parts of my heart.
Here goes, We were visiting the Fourvière Basillica at Lyon. An expensive and massive building perched on the top of Fourvière hill, it overlooks the beautiful city, which is also known as the gastronomical capital of the world. And it was this hillside view we were enjoying in the afternoon when we felt hungry. It was lunch time, baby A had run around inside the Basillica and was now sleeping cozily in his pram. Me and Tall A were free, and we were in France, on top of a beautiful hillside.
It doesn’t get better, does it? Yes it does. We noticed a small restaurant, with an open sitting area outside, overlooking the beautiful city, with delicate lace covered round tables, gold rimmed crockery glistening in the sun, placed aesthetically on them. Wine and water both clinking in elegant flute glasses. And people relaxing and having a languid, lazy lunch. Picture perfect. A lazy lunch on a sunny day in a picture postcard place in France. Tired parents us, yearning for some romantic moments in our life.
We so wanted to enjoy this. We went inside and asked for a seat in the corner, by the parapet/ ledge. And now, things started getting bad. The lady at the counter, instead of showing us in, asked us to wait there. She then went inside. This was the outside reception type of covered place, the actual sitting area was outside in a courtyard type of place. Open. She came back after quite some time with a burly looking man, who had a definite frown on his face and he asked us what we wanted. Still not sure of what was happening, we told him that we wanted a table. The guy told us that they were not serving lunch anymore and that the place was full.
Now the design of the place is such, the courtyard is by the road, and one side of it is the hills slope. That’s why we could see it while walking by and decided to go in. It was open, people were eating and there was space a plenty. Me with my slow third generation RAM still could not fathom much. And kept looking at him, Tall A, understood and said thank you and told me let’s go. His face was red. It was only then I realised what was happening. I looked back at the fat burly man’s aggressive expression , his arms folded in front of his body and the weird timid way the lady at the counter was looking on.
We walked out into the sunny day. And I felt like I would cry, first time experience of Racism so raw and hatred so pure was overwhelming. Tall A always the smarter and stronger one said, let’s find another better place. We called an Uber and went back to the city.
I guess we were wrong, just walking into a place without consulting the tourist advices, recommendations. Without knowing whether we were welcome or not with our brown skin, but you see even as a person who always has been a nomad with no roots, I tend to forget that the whole world is not always a welcoming place.
Until next time,