Fair Winds and Following Seas....

The year was 1994.

The day was December 18^th.

The bullets were five.

The blood was crimson.

The story is mine.

I have always been a talker. From the moment I muttered my first word and every day in between. But, on a cold winter’s night days after turning thirteen, my talking developed a different purpose: understanding people.

I firmly believe that as people we do the best we know how in that moment. A bit presumptuous, but maniacs aside, people do the best they know how. The challenge is to understand why, a challenge I gave to myself on the night that five bullets pierced the passenger side window of our family car.

A man I did not know sat perched in dark car, behind darkly tinted glass, down just far enough to see the shadow of a face. And then in a moment, likely compelled by his desire to have acceptance from his circle of friends, he applied the force to a trigger that sprayed five bullets into our car and he was gone. In his wake he left behind bullet casings, shattered glass and a solitary bullet, that by the grace of god, lodged itself in the palm of the hand my mother used to cover her head.

So many things came out of the day including my intrigue for understanding people. So I talk to them.

The past three months in Spain have been an amazing opportunity to talk (a lot) and listen to people from different countries, cultures and religions. We all bring our different stories to ESADE and I have been honored to spend the past three months learning about so many new people and we have had a blast along the way.

Of course, with every great story, the road to get here was accented with challenges that forced us to take a deep breath and think for a moment about what motivates and influences us all. In a way the coursework is secondary to our experience here in Barcelona. Even our group work presented a non-academic challenge: how to merge six cultures, leadership styles, communication methods and habits. Furthermore, the challenges of leveraging the knowledge of sixty ‘section mates’, creating memories with 180 classmates and sharing stories with a group of experienced 2^nd years. One thing carries us through, the understanding that in every moment we are doing the best we know how.

So thank you ESADE for listening to me talk, answering my questions and letting me understand where you come from and what motivates you.

To my beloved Team 2, I wish you the best next term and look forward to ‘work free’ time together.

Class of 2012, I look forward to more fun times come January – enjoy the break.

To the Class of 2011, for those of you moving on to your next step in life, best wishes and thank you for imparting your wisdom on us. Fair winds and following seas.

And to the man behind the dark window, for whatever reason you felt compelled to pull the trigger, I understand it was the best you knew how in that moment.

Ted Meets Ram in Barcelona

I knew that Barcelona would introduce me to cultural experiences I had never even heard of before, but on an ordinary November Saturday I stumbled upon the unlikeliest of experiences.

November. In the States this symbolizes a month to celebrate Veteran’s Day, Thanksgiving and Black Friday or remembrance, thanks and SHOPPING, respectively. My favorite of those three is hands down Thanksgiving; a US holiday predicated on family and thankfulness, not without controversy, but definitely without gifts! To non US Americans and my ESADE classmates, it’s an opportunity to taste some of the famous Thanksgiving Turkey they hear about. Unfortunately, it’s quite a labor intensive holiday so we’ve limited the official 2010 celebration to US Passport holders. Lo siento!

The thing about Thanksgiving is that you cannot be a chef and enter the day cold turkey (pun very much intended). In an attempt to acclimate ourselves in a Spanish kitchen, Stilts, OVietnam and I set out to practice the big day with a rehearsal Turkey Day. We educated our Lebanese sous chef and even allowed two Canadians to the table, but not after an eventful preparation day throughout Barcelona.

The day before our rehearsal, we met OVietnam at Mercat de la Boqueria to pick up none other than ‘Ted the Turkey’. Upon first entering la Boqueria I smiled with a hint of rebellion; my sheer presence here was me turning my nose up to the food standards of the States. We meandered through food stand after food stand until we found the selected meat counter…OH MY GOD is there going to be a HEAD on our TURKEY….ok focus, not all the turkeys have heads on them. WAIT! I signed up to help with Thanksgiving, but I did not sign up to chop the head off of a turkey. Thankfully, we ordered the headless variety and so what if Stilt’s hasn’t yet mastered the metric system and grossly overestimated kilos. We were now the proud owners of a 20lb turkey (WAY too much meet for 6 people). Practice Thanksgiving here we come!

But first, we had to run some errands as I was headed to a Diwali party later that evening. Prior to the week leading up to Diwali, I had never heard of the holiday. Shame on me, but this is all part of me learning! I learned a little about Ram coming back after being banished and the symbolism of good defeating bad and the marking of this event known as the ‘Festival of Lights’. In an effort to fully explore my newfound education, I decided to drag Stilts through Raval in order to find a festive outfit to wear to Bollywood Restaurant later that night. Ted came too.

Earlier, I mentioned the food standards of the US for a reason. In the States, you pick up your Thanksgiving Day turkey and it’s wrapped up nicely in a tight plastic wrap and its innards are neatly placed in a plastic bag inside the carcass. Not in Spain. As we weaved through tourists, pickpockets and policemen on La Rambla, Ted the Turkey was sticking half way out of the disproportionately small plastic bag, each leg flopping in an opposite direction with my every step.

I borrowed Stilt’s Spanish to ask a local souvenir shop owner where I could find native dress for the Diwali party. Ted and I stood off to the side and drew awkward stares from passersby. After being pointed in the proper direction, I stopped to grab some cash from the ATM—American female with an excessive amount of bags in her hands, fumbling with her wallet on Rambla equals prime target for some of the ‘wallet regulars’ in that area. But the 20 pound turkey hanging halfway out of the bag and now leaking from a small hole was more baffling than anything else.

But Diwali and Bollywood were our motivation and we charged on until we stumbled upon the desired location. The shopkeeper quickly dressed me with some festive garb. I am still not sure if she was excited that an overly eager American Catholic was dressing up for Diwali party or if she wanted to rush me out the door because a turkey was poking out from my bag and leaking on her floor, but that is neither here nor there.

The Diwali party was a blast! I showed up in my new outfit and shocked a few people with my commitment. ESADE took over the restaurant and transformed it into a dance floor, hired Bollywood dancers to boot! It was great to see some of our more reserved classmates relish in the glory of the Festival of Lights and teach us a few of their native dance moves. The following day, in between basting Ted and slicing apples, I looked at the photos from the evening. My favorites were the random ones I snapped from my toes focusing on the center of the dance floor. I never captured a specific person or persons, but I did capture smiles on EVERYONE’s face. For me, east met west in Barcelona for a day.

It was an experience that I am thankful for this November.

Vernacular Abuse

Dear Facebook, Skype, GChat, BBM, Whatsapp and Email,

Boy have we had a big two months!

I never really understood the impact you have on everyday life. You should be commended…well I’m pretty sure the monetary compensation you generate for your founders is commendation enough. So I just want to personally thank you. Over the past two weeks we united forces and really made some monumental impacts.

You see, I have this thing with words and unfortunately when the stork dropped me off at mom and dad’s house 28 years ago he forgot to leave a filter. I’ve been grappling with this oversight for years. Here in Spain they blame it on me just being American, but back in the States the lack of filter still provides countless hours of entertainment and embarrassment beyond acceptable levels. It’s a work in progress, but the sheer volume of words I use is tough to manage. After a detailed analysis a co-worker and I came to the conclusion that I talk on a 9 to 1 ratio compared to the average person. I talk in riddles and rhymes at all the wrong times. And that is where you come in to the picture.

Who would have known that I could exercise the 9 to 1 ratio on 6 platforms simultaneously? Do you know how much we got accomplished this week? I’ll tell you.

Let’s start from the beginning, when I lost my voice. Detrimental, I know. I was lost too, but Skype you really stepped it up here. The phone was clearly not an option as I intermittently made honking noises that sounded like an injured goose. I had a speech to give and I practiced (at a whisper) over Skype with my audience. I also used your instant message feature when whispering gave way to pure silence. I never regained my voice in time to deliver the speech, but time wasn’t waiting for me and the week moved on.

GChat, Whatsapp and BBM, thank you. You carried me through a rather long week of anticipation. Election results and a top secret retreat provided a little anxiety and I still could not speak without sounding like an overweight truck driver. Using your technology I could still keep up my communication level, just in written and far more permanent form, but most importantly I could still express myself across platforms. Amazing. I really seized the opportunity too.

I owe a lot of thanks to each of you for the past few weeks.

Skype: Thank you for allowing me to interact with my mother as she packed me a box of winter clothes. Barcelona is getting colder and the cold marble floor in the morning is getting painful. I have contemplated not showering twice now to avoid the long cold barefoot walk down the hallway to the shower. I’m going to start losing friends if I don’t get my slippers sent sooner than later.

GChat: You hide so discretely behind the pdf version of marketing slides on my PC. I’ve promised to give you up during class time except in the case of emergencies, but I just wanted to tell you that you have been incredibly useful in talking to people on the other side of classroom. I will miss the flashing orange during class time, but I have you on my phone too, so do not fret.

BBM and Whatsapp: You allowed me to connect with people across the globe at all hours. Allocating time between the two of you is tough, but my dedication really picks up as the night drags on. I find more and more time to devote to you right around 2am. You facilitate my ability to put my foot in my mouth quicker than I could have ever considered. Wow, the wonders of technology.

Email: You add value too. For after insertion of foot-in-mouth, you step in and allow me another opportunity to poor salt in a wound, but in a far more permanent fashion. What would I do without you? You allow me to make permanent reminders of temporary feelings….you are kind of like a tattoo. Plus the fact that I can have you in my pocket…priceless.

Facebook: I haven’t fully embraced your chat feature. I was turned off by you when you first showed your face. You had too many glitches and I really just lost interest. I am considering giving you another chance, but you too have served a purpose these past two weeks. After my uninhibited communication, follies included, you were there as the perfect spot to post some esoteric message about my latest blunder. You are irreplaceable.

Wow. Countless reasons for gratitude. It’s been a long two months and all of you have been key players of dragging it out so painfully long. I look forward to more useful interaction as we continue on our journey together. I flirt with the idea of separation, temporary of course, but I never have the ability to part. I feel we just go together like old ladies and slot machines.

Until our next IM, Email or ambiguous post….

Unaccustomed Earth

Human nature will not flourish, any more than a potato, if it be planted and replanted, for too long a series of generations, in the same worn-out soil. My children have had other birthplaces, and, so far as their fortunes may be within my control, shall strike their roots into unaccustomed earth. –Nathaniel Hawthorne

Pause. Breathe. Reflect….carry on.

Pre-term has come and gone. Marks are set and rather inconsequential at this point. Term 1 and everything it has in store for us has pierced our reality and we strap in for another several months of academic pursuits.

But September was more than just another month in our calendar year. We all set out on this journey with different motivations and varying goals. We converged on Barcelona – a foreign land to some but home for others. We blindly opened ourselves to 179 others from day one. We walked into living situations with perfect strangers without question. We humbly accepted new roles and accommodated new norms to promote the success of five other people. We stumbled a time or two and will again, but for the coming months this is our unaccustomed earth.

These are our days to learn from each other and exchange ideas, opinions, cultures, food and drinks. And we are going to have a blast doing so. So perhaps for a day or a weekend and maybe even just for a moment…

Pause. Remember the streets and sidewalks that robbed the soles from our shoes, where we promised ourselves this opportunity. Oh! the carpal tunnel syndrome we still battle, developed from writing our essays, our ideas and our beliefs.

Breathe. Now that it seems the ESADE West-Nile-Bird-Sars epidemic has subsided – we can all breathe.

Reflect. We had ideas in those essays, we had goals – personally I may have thrown in a little blue sky to help with the admissions process, but the message was still the same – grant me this opportunity and watch me flourish.

In my moments of reflection, I have realized:

In this single month I have made ‘lifers’. (How can you possibly NOT remain lifelong friends with someone that shares more than 100 friends in common with you on Facebook?)

I am an amazing air fiddler.

Sundays are not for shopping, perfect for drinking.

The flashing lights at the pedestrian crosswalk are less a warning-more a sign of imminent danger.

You can bond over happy meals from McAuto at 4am.

If this whole clean energy thing doesn’t pan out, I have a future in horse whispering.

Just because the hairdresser cut your neck – no discount is guaranteed.

Taxis don’t frequent uphill neighborhoods quite as often after midnight.

Everybody loves a good nickname.

Some people just need to sleep right here. Right now.

And also, that while our stay in Barcelona may only be temporary, we are all setting about to strike new roots in our own unaccustomed earth – watch us flourish.

Now carry on….