This is the house that Robin built. It was my first independent real estate project that I completed just after college.

At the time, I outlined a series of professional goals and managed to accomplish them with more success that I thought possible. My PENN education had taught me that my perception of a full day of work is much greater than the average person. I had endless energy and did not need sleep.

Like the pretty house in the photograph, I presented a façade that success came easy to me, but in reality it didn’t. I struggled and persevered; somehow everything worked out the way that it was meant to happen.

When I turned 30, my priorities changed. I needed to sleep and to eat properly. I valued working hard and being successful, but I wanted more of a life. My definition of success changed and the goals that I wanted to achieve next did not revolve around a better bonus but better life experiences. I had  money in the bank and wanted to enjoy it. Specifically, one afternoon I had outlined a “what if” list and posted it in my office while daydreaming. And then a once in a life time gift was handed to me and I ran with it.

I took 3 years off to get a life. I traveled, socialized, and then went back to school.

Before construction on this house completed, there were many snafus which challenged my novice developer skills both academically and financially. The Town Inspector suddenly became strict and insisted that the house was built 6 inches to high over code; the developer rescinded and cut off the top of my roof. The inspector then decided that he had issued too many certificates of occupancy the week that my property’s inspection was due and postponed the date by several weeks. And my favorite, the inspector then decided that the deck went past the buildable lines and that my deck had to be reconstructed. Outside of my immediate family very few people knew of these stresses because I hid them and presented the illusion that everything was perfect and going smoothly according to plan even when it wasn’t. I remember, as a result of surviving the stress, I developed this strong need to hold onto, hide, and protect that perfect house instead of celebrating and enjoying this gift to my life. It took extensive damage by a bad tenant for me to realize that I have been holding back.

But life is funny. Even the best laid plains don’t always work out. Life is not perfect like the façade of my house; it is flawed and in constant need of maintenance just like my house.

As I set upon returning to the real world, I find myself facing a similar but different set of hurdles that remind me of my experience in 2002. Every day since last April starts off with a rejection or two and is then followed with a criticim and judgment of what I lack. The level and extent of these comments at times has been overwhelming especially after all those years working where I sacrificed most my life in the pursuit professional development.  I really haven’t had much of a life or been a good daughter, sister or friend since this period.

On the other hand, the generosity and support of others has been humbling. I am fortunate to be interviewing but no one understands the depth of hard work and perseverance that it has taken, including myself.    Every day I gather all my strength to stay positive and realize that I am much stronger than I thought. I remember what a fantastic and fortunate life I have had to date.

Some people look at me and question, “How could I put my life on hold like that?” I constantly question myself with, “Was it worth it?” To which  both questions I respond, “It was necessary in order for me to get a life.” Over the past years I have had the chance to visit over 20 countries and live on two other continents other than the one that I call home.  Through good and bad experiences I learned priceless lessons decades earlier than most of my peers:

How to handle rejection and move forward

How you speak with someone has greater influence than what you have to say

How people perceive you maybe altogether different from reality

How to correct your errors and how to say your sorry when your are ‘wrong

How to figure out what details matter to people around you

How to forgive someone who has hurt you

How to learn from failure and persevere

How to laugh at oneself in order to maintain sanity

How to learn from your mistakes and not regret life choices

How to say “no” to opportunities where I do not add value to or do not add value to me

How to be patient with others and more importantly myself

How to understand an opposing perspective and find ways to bridge the divide

How to prioritize the health and happiness of family and close friends

My goals are a bit different these days as well as the means in which I will achieve them. I want to attain a good job working with good people. I care more about how I treat people and the perception by my colleagues. I value people with similar morals and want to protect those relationships. I can handle uncertainty and think through issues in a manner that I had not thought possible. My definition of success is not defined by the zeros in my bank account but the satisfaction that I accomplished my initial goal, did I learn anything along the way, and did I have a last impacting. I could choose to hide in my perfect house, but I think that I would now prefer to let it get dirty and dinged along the way.

As my friend Anthony said to me, “Perhaps this ability to pick up and start over successfully makes you so special.”

I love New York at Christmastime.

The decorations, the parties, the cheer.

It reminds of that period in my childhood when I believed in Santa Claus- feelings of anticipation before Christmas of what  might happen and when presents would be under the tree. For just a few weeks, the days were filled with special traditions of decorating a tree, making Christmas cookies, and participation in the annual Christmas pageant at school!

As a child, visiting New York during the holidays was a magical pilgrimage. My mother, aunt, and cousins would attend the Rockefeller Center Holiday Spectacular. It is annual  show filled with the rockets, a pageant with actual animals, and songs bringing holiday cheer! I remember one trip where we ventured around despite the snowstorm. On that same day my Aunt took me to Saks Fifth Avenue and bought me a very special pink gym bag that I cherished until it fell apart. The day concluded with an Italian dinner at Mama Lionees. That trip remains a magical memory to this day.

It’s now just the show that represented the holidays in NYC. There’s the enlightened attitude, yearend rush to complete tasks before the holidays, and streets packed with visitors everywhere. It’s not just the plethora of holiday parties that spread cheer. There are the impromptu holiday markets in parks, the ice rink in Bryant Park, and the department store windows.

Lobbies are decorated with trees, lights, ribbons, and various combinations of red, silver, and gold. There’s holiday music that’s uplifting and serves as a slight distraction from the negativity in the world.

Last year I lived in Europe. I experienced the anticipation of Christmas with the lights of Paris, Christmas markets of Germany, and life in the library preparing for finals. And now I back walking around the City that I have been proud to call my home for so many years.

Just before Thanksgiving, I was at INSEAD. We, the Americans, lost the bid for a national week and were feeling quite somber. Nienke, my Dutch friend, came up to o in consolidation and said, “Do you have an interest in visiting the Christmas markets in Stroudsburg?” She told us that she wanted to take a road trip there before finals, would we want to come?  “Why not?” I thought to myself.  It could be good to a have a little distraction before studying for finals and also a bit of Christmas cheer.

The plan was literally a 24 hour getaway. We left late in the day after class. Our drive was 6 hours from Fontainebleau to Stroudsburg situated in France but very close to the border of Germany. Alexis and Nienke shared driving responsibilities. Clearly neither was eager to see how my manual driving skills were on the highway.

We arrived late in the evening with about 15 minutes until the markets closed for the night.  Huddled over cups of vine chaud (hot red wine) and snacks we walked around before calling it a night. Although we were in France it felt like we had crossed the border into Germany.

 The plan was to wake up early, head to the opening, and leave by lunch time. Alexis was eager to start studying for POM. I was happy to go to the Ford’s apartment for dinner.

The final week of class had been intense finishing projects and participating in various events. Cabaret had been the night before. I was eager for sleep. I remember arriving at our rented apartment for the night and passing out. I told the girls wake me up 15 minutes before you want to wake up. I passed out in the bed and woke up in the morning to Alexis working on her computer. With consultant like efficiency she was typing away. She wanted to work on a project while the two of us got ready to go out.

Off we headed to the center of town. Like many European towns, the center of town was marked by a very large medieval church. The town grew out along the circumference of the church and along the local river. Dozens of vendors lined the streets – food peddlers, craft makers, chocolate artisans. There were foods to try, wine to drink, and potential Christmas presents lurking in the distance.

I was on a culinary sampling mission. Chocolate. Macaroons. Homemade jelly. Hot cider, vine chaud, Christmas beer, and hot chocolate. I wanted to try it all and went on a inquisitive missions to stahls and local stores.

Then the clock struck 1pm. Like a teacher calling her kids in from recess, Alexis reminded us of our scholastic responsibilities. We found our car and with bellies full returned back home.

Now slightly wobbly when I walk, I am sitting down with my feet up and drinking Gatorade to recover.

Everyone always says, “I can’t believe that you are running a marathon!” Their admiration is complimentary. I used to be one of those people until my adventure friend Joanne convinced me that it was a challenge for us both to conquer. Thanks to the amazing coaches at Team n’ Training we completed the Nike San Francisco marathon and aspired to participate again.

Have you taken the bar? Prepared for the MCAT’s? Dealt with a sick child…..they are different in tasks but all require extreme focus in order to achieve one’s goal. Take the goal, break your preparation down into bite sized bits, and soon you will find yourself at the starting line.

The NYC is the pinnacle of all marathons and for me my home.  If I am going to run 26.2 miles, why not through the 5 boroughs with 47,000 new friends. It amazing to see the diversity of the city all come out to cheer us all one. I first ran the NYC Marathon in 2006 and I remember after completion telling myself that I need to do this again!

I have to admit I was quite nervous about this one. I qualified in 2009, deferred my ticket while at INSEAD, and before I knew it November 6^th was here. I was underprepared and blatantly in denial about my lack of preparation to the extent that I left my sneakers in the wrong place. Who had I become during my years abroad.

Up until a few years ago I was always someone who played in the game and never sat on the sidelines. Then I decided to sit back and watch. I became too nice, lazy, and fat – 15 pounds heavier around my waist to be exact.  I became the attendee, evening television watcher, and took the lead on projects on a limited basis. I hid from my fears instead of diving straight in. I was angry at myself and the person that I become. Where had my game face gone and how could I get it back?

I really needed to run and complete this marathon more than the marathon needed me to participate. In the 4 weeks leading up to the big day, I trained. I felt better because of the endorphins and focused. There was a noticeable change in my attitude. Slowly I saw glimpses of my old self – confident, self assured, driven, and focused.

The day before I picked up my bib from the Expo and blew out my hair – if I was going to run slow I might as well look good along the way. I  had a wonderful dinner with girlfriends who distracted me with their latest dating adventures.

Suddenly morning arrived and I was taking the 1 train downtown and boarding a bus at 6am headed for Staten Island. Tourists around me took pictures of the city in its darkness. I sat there quietly reading my book about wanderlust.

Once at the starting line I searched for several friends who had arrived by ferry. The starting line is a bit of a party with bands playing, food (bagels and power bars), beverages (coffee and water), and a whole lot of people pursuing their pre-marathon rituals. It was very exciting. I felt really honored to be there among the masses. I found my friends Madlene and Vadim shortly before they lined up in the first wave and wished them well. They were off in the first wave. I was in the third wave.

In marathons past I sat with Joanne and the other TNT participants. We told jokes and played games to kill time before line up as our ritual. But here on my own, it really did not seem quite real without Joanne. I read a book, stretched, and consumed 40 ounces of Gatorade and water.  I watched on screen the professional runners take off along the Verrazano Bridge. They would be almost done by the time that I started.

When the time arrived, I headed to my corral which herded people into very specific blocks. I was flattered that NYRR thought that I might complete the race in 5 hours. The last half hour to pass was spent going to the bathroom and stretching as if almost on repeat. Note to self, perhaps too much water was consumed too soon before the start.

With a good start I kept a decent pace for the first 10 miles. I was on target for a 5 hour time. I couldn’t believe it. Perhaps all that Gatorade and caffeine infused gu worked. As I approached mile 16 my time to completion was nearing a pace of 5 hours and 30 minutes. It was still respectable given my lack of preparation.

I entered Manhattan with only 10 miles to go. I felt like the afternoon was flying by. It was my favorite part of the race.  The roar of the crowd as you enter First Avenue is amazing and addicting. I have yet to replicate the experience by any trip, relationship, or event.

As I ran north on First Avenue I was on the lookout for friends. It was difficult- so many people running beside me and so many people on the streets. I managed to find 1 out of five people who were posted along the way. This was the most distracting part of the run. Crowds of young professionals flowed out of bars along the way. I could hear their laughter and smell their beer. Boy did I really want a beer. I had $20 in my pocket. With 10 miles left,  I seriously thought about stopping for a drink.

At mile 20 I had to use the loo and never fully got my mojo back. I allowed myself to walk – error number 1. I knew it. Before the start I promised myself that I would keep jogging regardless of how slow I was going. But my walking at that point was faster than my feet shuffling. At mile 23 a spectator ran up to my face and screamed at me to keep going. It was the shock to the system that started me running to the finish line. After 6hours and 12 minutes, it was over. I received my medal, a recovery kit, and was off for a Belgian beer, burger, and fries!

You might be asking yourself,”How could you have a lot of fun running for so long? Don’t you get bored” To be honest, in a city like New York how could you? Time passed by quickly as I passed through each neighborhood.  Every participant represented a different nationality, medical cause, or person “in memory”. The spectators were fabulous and creative with their signs of support. As I passed by, I slapped hands and “high fived” firefighters, children, senior citizens, and foreign visitors.  It was inspiring and humbling. I have been fortunate to go around the world several times, and here I keep coming back to New York. New York is an amazing place of diversity, creativity, and tolerance. It’s full of go getters, busy bees, and rockstars in the making. I am reminded for as much as I like to leave I always love to come home.

You might also be thinking that after a marathon you can eat anything you want. In reality participating in a marathon is a losing proposition. At most during the day I probably burned 2,620 calories (100 calories per mile) which is shy of the 3,500 calories in order to lose a pound. Before the race I consumed two bagels, a bottle of Gatorade, a gu, yogurt, and banana- easily 1000 calories. During the race I consumed one gu caplet of 100 calories every four miles- about 7 from the start. I also drank another 24 cups of Gatorade, ate another banana, and indulged in pretzels at mile 19!  Pre race indulgences included tartufo the night before and blondies with lunch during the week. I was not working out and could feel my waist expanding with each day that passed. And at the end, I went for a large beer, plate of fries, and burger with cheese. No pounds lost here.

After it all, you might be asking so why run a marathon more than once?  Running a marathon is a great lesson on how to be successful in life. A marathon is exactly like life. The road will be long with hills and curves along the way. There will be periods where you cruise  and then there will be rocky patches that are tough and uncomfortable. All you want to do is stop and sit, but you have to dig deep, keep going, and persevere through those uncomfortable bits if you want to be successful.

I now have 3 fancy degrees from 3 elite institutions over the past ten years. At all of these schools, Deans spoke about perseverance yet never did test us to the degree that compares to hitting the wall of a marathon.

I am physically limited for the moment but mentally stronger. My game face is back. I want to play to win.

It was the day of the NYC Mayoral election. My boss’s brother Mark Green was running again Bloomberg in the election.  My boss offered us the day off in exchange for poll watching in the early morning hours. I remember my shift had ended and I walked outside to see the first tower ablaze. I was disoriented from a lack of sleep. I thought to myself someone in that building really did not want Giuliani to leave office. Then out of the blue something high above me rammed into the next tower. Both Towers were on fire. Was I hallucinating? Was the world ending?

It was precisely at that moment that every firehouse in NYC turned on their sirens and chaos broke out. Which way to go? Given our location I found Broadway and started walking north. By the time that I reached Houston Street, I saw the first tower fall like I was watching a Hollywood film. Did that really happen? Yes it did. I wasn’t dreaming. I continued walking north and by the time I made it to Bryant Park the second tower was gone. Eventually I arrived home and learned that the Pentagon had been attacked. I settled on the sofa for the next 12 hours and watched helplessly the news reports.

It took weeks to pass before it was okay to laugh again.

It’s now 10 years later and I can’t help but ask. Have we progressed forward in any way?

Up until that point in time I was unaware of the extent to which the US was disliked outside of our borders. Up until that point, the Taliban had not even been a word in my vocabulary. Today we are fighting a war in Afghanistan, Sadam Hussein is dead, and every time that I take off my shoes in the airport security line I am reminded off the war on terror.

Perhaps as a county, we are much less naïve. We are reminded to be fearless and stand up for our value. For now the best thing to do is not forget or be afraid. We need to live on.

For our 11:35am flight to Philadelphia my mom asked me to arrive early.

I was coming from  Fontainebleau. At this point I mastered the side roads and understood the traffic pattern. My mother’s only request was to please arrive early. I warned her that we were flying out of Terminal 1 – little to occupy ourselves. Duty free shopping was minimal as well as dining option. Nevertheless I obliged. I needed my parent’s plane tickets to get my luggage on board the flight- excess baggage fees were much lower for the second bags. I also needed them to help me carry  on a few other bags. After all I am officially unemployed. I cannot waste money for the time.

So  on the morning of the 11^th I awoke at 5:30am. Packed up Marie Attoinnette (my car) to the  max. I said goodbye to my lovely house at 72 Rue Murger and La Foret de Fontainebleau and drove to CDG on Route 105/104 for the last time. My first task was to return the car to Citreon. Thanks to an excessive insurance policy the lovely white marks along the right side of the car were covered.  I was taken to terminal 1 to meet my parents, aunt, and uncle for the journey home.

I love my family, but after a week of playing tour guide I needed time to myself.  I know understand what it’s like to be a single mother of four children. I sat on the other side of our flight and watched movies all the way home. I was mentally exhausted and distracted.  I was leaving INSEAD for good and had not said goodbye to anyone.

I arrived in Philadelphia and returned to my parents house. It was like my dream had ended. Who were all those funny people and when would I see them again?

JULY 12^TH POST INSEAD AUSTERITY

So what is Post INSEAD Austerity?

I am home, unpacked, clothes cleaned and laundered. I have now entered the phase of life that I am calling Post INSEAD Austerity.

It’s the days after where my life no longer is defined by the traffic jams around the road circles at the oblisuqe, my café au lait “si vous plas” has been replaced by Columbian drip coffee from Wawa, and endless hours of Landry, sorting through paperwork, and other remnants of my pre INSEAD life. I can no longer walk into a bar in Fonty or house party and know everyone in the room. I am on my own again and re-entering reality.

So why austerity? Yes, like in Europe, austerity measures are needed. Along the journey I became too used to the student life. In my final months I relaxed a bit too much and enjoyed myself a little more than necessary.  I graduated unemployed. Along the way I discovered that looking for a job from abroad and writing a business plan during the last few weeks was not going to be as successful as I hope. With limited time, I chose to spend it getting to know the people that I came to INSEAD to meet. Over time many of my European colleagues successfully landed and accepted job offers. Their success served to motivate and inspire me.

So not only am I on a budget but I am on a diet. Nights of drinking countless glasses of wine, barbeques, and oh so much cheese piled up a good 10 kilos around the waist. With the NYC marathon only 100 days away, my life has renewed sense of discipline as I burn off those calories and find my next professional outlet.

So here I am fresh out of the forest, ready for what lies in store.

In the morninH my family was instructed to bring their bags to the car before breakfast at 8am. I wanted to be on the road as close to 8:30am to get to Mont Saint Michel before the crowds arrived.

Breakfast at Chateau les Hauts was amazing. Madame Le Roy had made an assortment of homemade breads and jams. There was fresh fruit from the garden, local cheeses and meets, and fantastic coffee. She was also kind enough to serve it early for us so that we could leave earlier.

Somewhere along the line of packing the car and paying the hotel bill, my Aunt took out her sheet music and began to play the piano. Yes sheet music was in her suitcase. Everything and anything was in her suitcase. I hated to interrupt her joy, but we needed to get on the road. It was also 8:30am on a Sunday morning . There were other guests at the hotel.

We arrived early before the crows. I will remember the time between 10  to 11am as the morning that I almost killed my father and Aunt Nerma. We entered the castle and began the walk. It’s on an incline and from my earlier trip I forgot how many stairs close together are there to get to the top. My 81 year old was a champ. He boasted, “I go to the gym three times a week”. But for my father and Aunt, the climb was a bit harder on their bodies. I felt horrible- if only there was an elevator somewhere.

Alas we made it successfully through the tour of the Abbey and descended as the masses of tour buses arrived.

Next stop- I wanted to visit Sant Malo for lunch. The town was known as the pirates port. It was 40 km further west and along the water. We found a café at the top of the hill and dined on tartines and salads before beginning our 400 km drive back to Paris.

In the evening I arrived back in Bourron Marlotte.  Before my parents headed to the airport for the night, I toured them around my neighborhood and showed them our  “downtown”. As they headed to CDG, I  decided to drive around the area one last time. I wanted to say goodbye to Villecerf, Barbizon, and Thommery. I returned to 72 Rue Murger to finish packing and preparing the house to be returned to our landlord.

Alas a full night’s sleep. The morning started with a lovely breakfast at the hotel with view of the garden. We ate with the other guests, a family from Calgary. I arrived late. Little did I know that my Uncle nearly began World War III with our neighbors. He managed to ask every American to Canadian inappropriate question possible before I arrived for coffee. I never understood the tension completely  but was happy for a cup of coffee.

For the tour of Normandy, I wisened up and hired a guide. At 8:30am our driver and guide arrived to take us around and explain the history a bit-the American cemetery, Omaha Beach, and several other view points along the way.

My father, a strong fan of American history, wondered off on his own. This visit was very important to him to experience.

At lunch we returned to Hotel Tardif.  We decided on a picnic in the hotel’s garden. I sent my mom, Aunt, and Uncle off down the street to visit the Bayeux Tapestry while I went to buy sandwiches and snacks. Along my exploration I decided to order sandwiches from a café. Their menu alluded to half a bagette which I then converted to order enough for the family. I then walked to the local butcher where I bought some other items included another interesting looking sandwich, croq masseur, and quiche to complete the picnic. When I returned to the café to pick up my order, it turns out that their menu’s listing of a half bagette was the equivalent of a whole. I returned to the Hotel with seven sandwiches, two tartines, 2 croqs monsiier, some sausage, and cider.

Before our tour of Normandy was complete, we drove to Arromanches to learn about the American built port off the coast. In the town was a Ferris wheel which my Aunt insisted on taking a ride. It was a sunny day. We were beachside. Everyone was happy.

Late afternoon we loaded back into the car. We had a two hour drive to St. Thomas for the night. During the drive everyone was silent. They managed to all fall asleep including my father who was resting his eyes. The drive went through the rolling hillside and past many farms. I couldn’t believe that this would be one of my last days on the road like this.

By 7pm we arrived at Chatuea les Hauts, a large home situated  high in the hillside along the water directly opposite Mont Saint Michel. Our host was  Madame LeRoy. We were greeted with a local aperitif cocktail and stunning view of the castle. We were all exhausted and happy to just sit, take in the view, and drink a glass of wine. Dinner was low key- leftovers from our earlier picnics sitting on the terrace and looking at Mont Saint Michel.

Shortly thereafter everyone quickly collapse into bed. I stayed outside admiring the view as long as I could. Sunset was around 10:30pm. By 10pm though, I needed to lie down and rest.

On Thursday July 7^th I woke up in my lovely house in Bourron Marlotte. The sun was shining. It was graduation day. I was sad, excited, happy, confused all at once. Today would be the last day that I wake up and head to INSEAD. The time had come to move onward.

 Our ceremony was lovely and entertaining. Nearly 90% of my class had gathered in Fontainebleau along with several members of our family. Our class consisted of 499 people from 84 nationalities. I was fortunate to have my mom, dad, aunt, and uncle with me. Outside of the administration my classmate Drew, Charlie, and Pam spoke. They provided commentary that was comedic, nostalgic, and an appropriate send off to reality. 

One by one our names were called.  We each ascended for our walk across the stage. When it was my turn, I waved to the audience and then blew kisses to my classmates. Later in the evening several people complimented me on my diva style- a found farewell to the year.

Graduation dinner followed at a restaurant in Barbizon, Les Plaides, and then off to the graduation party at a château deep in the country somewhere. My last chateau party. But I can never understand why we called it that. We essentially drank a lot of champagne under a tent next to the chateau only stopping to view the chateau on our walk in doors.

JULY 8^th- Roadtrip Day 1

The Sarkessian/Barone Invasion of Normandy Part I

The following is a true story. We have all returned home safe and in one piece. Feel free to laugh as you read without guilt. My family is still together after the next few days together.

A few hours after the NSEAD graduation party, I awoke and packed my car. Today was the start of our family road trip to Normandy. But before we departed, there were several administrative matters to sort through. It was 9am. We had an ambitious agenda- change cars, visit Versailles, and drive to Bayeux for 8pm dinner reservations at La Rapier.

First I need to exchange my car for the larger one I rented. Second I needed to pack the new car with everyone’s belongings. Last we needed to start driving towards Versailles. It sounds easy enough to implement. But it wasn’t quite the case. Remember, this is France, my family, and none of us speak French. We were all exhausted after the last few days.

In most instances renting a reserved car is a 10 minute procedure to insure that all the documentation is in place. At Europcar Fontainebleau it took nearly 1.5 hours which included finding a substitute car for my reservation that they misplaced. To add to the entertainment, I do not speak French. The guide did not speak English. Hand gestures did not go as far as they had in the past.

 After much miscommunication, I drove my Opal station wagon (yes I drove a manual station wagon all around Normandy) to pick up my family from the hotel. I parked the car and walked into the hotel. I thought that I had put the parking break in place but apparently I had not. I walked away to my car to move belongings and when I returned the rented car was not where I left it. My Aunt  stood there and explained to me, “I don’t know what happened. The car just went away.” Apparently the car rolled past Hotel Angel Noir and down to the neighboring gift shop and blocked the entrance. Alas the store manager was not happy with me.  The car was quickly moved. My father loaded the car while I sorted out a place to leave my car. Meanwhile we sent my aunt and uncle off to buy sandwiches for lunch. We had hoped to picnic at Versailles (later learning no food or drink were allowed in). In retrospect, if I was efficient, I would have arrived with a to do list and delegated from the start. It was clear that I was travel with hyper active people and they would constantly need something to do.

By 11am we were on the road to Versailles which I effectively refer to as the Disneyland of French Chateaus. I last visited Versailles in 1998. Could much have changed since then? One of the smartest decisions that I made was to buy our entrance tickets online the day before. Alas some efficiency in France.

We arrived and discovered that we could not eat in the garden so we picnicked in the parking lot. We arrived with tickets in hand and began to walk around the building. Note to future visitors, one can only walk forward and not back ways along the tour. So if you want to return to an earlier part of the exhibit, you need to start from the very beginning. This is important to note in case you want to visit the café in the building.

After our tour of the building, my mom, aunt, and uncle went off to see Marie Antoinette’s house.  There was a tram car that drives you there. My father declined to join and I decided to keep him company. We would go to the café in Versailles for coffee. But there was one problem. The café was located near the exit of the Versailles tour and security did not allow you to re-enter. We needed to walk through the Versailles exhibit all over in order to reach the café. It was raining outside and so my father and I walked the building again. However, this time the tour was packed with tourists, cameras, and chaos. I had officially seen Versailles too many times in my life.

Once there we settled down for café au lait, a salad, and éclair. Alas my first cup of coffee for the day. Immediately I became much happier.

At the end of the day we loaded the car and headed to Bayeux where we would settle for the night. Bayeux is a town in Normandy from which many visitors use as a base to visit the D-DAY/World War II highlights. I was very excited. We had reservations at La Rapier for dinner at 8pm.  La Rapier was a Michelin star restaurant and one of my favorite restaurants in France. I was craving their apple rice pudding, cheese plate, monkfish stew!

Before I continue, the series of events that next proceeded  bared a similar resemblance to my last night in Udaipur except  I was with my family and there was no Jain temple time  or cows to block the path. We were a group of exhausted adults, misguided, and hungry.

The drive to Bayeux went smoothly. However, we left Versailles much later and arrived with only 10 minutes to spare before the start of our dinner reservation. We needed to check into the hotel quickly and head down the street. If we were efficient, I would have first left my car in the driveway of Hotel La Tardif, picked up our hotel keys, and then went walking to the restaurant. But we weren’t.  I left the car on the street. I would drive the car to the restaurant, drop my family off at the restaurant, and then return to park the car in the gate. So I set off without my google maps and a hard to read map that I misunderstood.

For the next twenty minutes I drove through the streets of the town, all one way, and consistently headed in the wrong direction. It was frustrating. I was tired, hungry, and stressing out from hearing my father bark orders at me. In retaliation, I decided to return to the hotel. We would park the car and walk to the restaurant.

While there I asked the hotel to call the restaurant and tell them that we would be late. So we headed off with a new map and my blackberry with google maps. Immediately after we crossed the gate, the battery died. Slight problem. So we started to walk around with the hard to read map, once again, in the wrong direction. Along the way we found a couple who had a garmin navigation system. With their help, we were guided to the right location.

Alas we arrived at La Rapiere 40 minutes past our reservation to find out that the host had just given our reservation our way. I was devastated. I had just dragged my dad, my 81 year old uncle, and aunt through the streets to find out the restaurant was closed. I tried to reason with the restaurant owner. She clearly had no interest in maximizing her profits.. My mom and I were yelled at. My fantasy of the beautiful meal at this restaurant, the cheese platter, and rice pudding for dessert was gone.

http://www.hoteltardifbayeux.com/house.html

I broke down. It hit me all at the same time. Graduation. Lack of sleep. Managing the family. On the surface I was crying about lost restaurant reservations. My family couldn’t understand the issue given the row of restaurants outside to choose from. But in reality my time at INSEAD was over. I have never said goodbye to anything in my life without tears. We settled into the restaurant across the street. Exhausted. Famished.

We finished our meal at 11:30pm and waddled home. We were all beat.

 Tomorrow would be another full day. We were off to conquer the beaches of Normandy.

Happy Graduation to me and my 498 classmates.

It’s official – I am now Robin Nevart, INSEAD MBA 11J, NYU MSRE 2003, UPENN C’98. That’s a whole lot of acronyms standing behind my name. So what’s next?

For months I wondered how I would document the experience. Should I be funny and cute, serious and intellectual. INSEAD was about working hard  and playing hard. Just like my undergraduate school UPENN and my life in NYC. Except INSEAD brought along a French forest and South East Asian islands thrown in between. I had moments of regret in my choice and for months I complained about life in France and the disorganization of the INSEAD administration. And before I knew it, my time was up. Graduation arrived. With a handshake and diploma, Dean Dipak Jain pushed me off the cliff!

How do you say goodbye to the 10 craziest months of your life? How do you describe and undescribable life experience that only the people that join you for the journey can understand? With a song, joke, a photograph. The memories are too numerous and too extreme to understand for those who never experienced life inside the bubble.

I can’t accurately portray what I experienced. But I can share answers to the most commonly asked questions

What did I learn?

How to drive a manual car. How to brown onions.

So what did  I really learn? Stereotypes of nationalities, at the end of the day, are really true.

How to stay focus and thrive in chaos (the Indians)

Hand Jive to any song (the Italians)

How to stay up to sunrise (the Brazilians, the Spaniards)

Efficiency- how to see everything in Europe in a week (the Chinese)

How to feel at home (the Lebanese)

Reliability and trustworthiness (most notably from my favorite Brit Charlie Ford)

Serenity (the Swiss, the Thai)

Efficiency in all aspects of life (the Germans)

How to take risks and be fearless (the Israelis)

How to have fun (the Bolivian – notice not plural)

Good manners though not always applied in practice (the Japanese)

How to eat massive quantities of meet (the Koreans, the Dutch)

Patience, an open minded, renewed curiosity (the Dutch)

Approaching life with ZEN attitude(South African)

How to appreciate our freedom, meritocracy and capitalism (from my fellow Americans). I was always an American with a passport leaving town. I am now an American with a renewed love for my country.

What was it like?

Imagine that you are a rubber band wrapped around a set of papers. Every day the rubber band keeps holding together more pieces of paper. The band becomes bigger and yet does not snap.

Why INSEAD?

I went to PENN for my undergraduate. I wanted something different. Ten months. Life on two continents. Real diversity and a school with more personality than I could ever handle. 84 nationalities. For me it’s officially a small world!

Are you glad you went?

Yes. I am sure that in five years I will be much happier for the experience. For now I left with more questions than I had when I first entered and a hangover not directly caused by alcohol.

Any regrets?

That I did not take the P1 exemption exams, that I did not apply sooner and that I did not start in Singapore. There just wasn’t enough time.

How is my French?

According to my Aunt, I say this a lot “No, no, no, no, no,no”.

What was my favorite part?

Not sure where to start. Which conversation, event, trip, meal, or party. Every hour at INSEAD brought something new to my life. For those memories, I am grateful.

Living in a French farm house and them moving to a high rise in Asia. Running through the streets of Singapore in a thunderstorm dressed as band leader. Cold calling INSEAD alumni and asking them to pay for  a pig roast and unlimited Bourbon in support of an American national bid. Organizing Thanksgiving dinner for 40 Americans and nearly loosing the house chickens. Every national week amphi storming, dinner, and event that provided a glimpse into their world. Learning how to crawl on the floor like a cat for  Cabaret. Traffic circles. Marie Antoinette, my Peugeot 307 – may she rest in peace. Earning 30 Euros in statistics class to spend it on beer and pizza with my groupmates. Barbeques until very late. Chateau = old French house in the middle of nowhere/ not penthouse in NYC.  It’s easy to get lost in the forest without a GPS. Too many bottles of red wine and ounces of cheese.  Saint Michelin and Saint Emillion. Yum. Ordering a café au lait after lunch only for the chocolate.  Tartine with butter and jam is an appropriate pre final breakfast. Who knew that financial concepts could become a comedy routine? When I hear about call options and swaps, I will always imagine a hockey stick. When I go to negotiate any type of deal, I will put on my penguin face. When I read a book, I will remember YFCD and never go buy a printing press factory. And lastly, every time that I visit London and the Mayfair neighborhood, I will walk buy the Hilton hotel and think fondly about the pursuit of the land parcel behind it that my REP group tired to buy.

What am I going to do next?

I am looking for a job in the real estate field. During the interim I have picked up an advisory assignment for a developer. I am also writing a business plan for fund raising in Asia to invest in US real estate.