kileygoestobschool-blog

[kileygoestobschool-blog]

That time we got engaged

So, we’re engaged. To be married. Not just, like, paying really close attention to one another. We’re also doing that I suppose, but in this context, I meant married. We’re getting married.

Here’s how it went down:

1. Jon (and Nell!) straight up lies to me for over a month

Starting about six weeks ago, Jon and Nell were in cahoots to get me to believe Nell was coming to Seattle (she wasn’t), we were going to meet up with her (we weren’t), and she was going to show us some awesome hike (she didn’t).

Now, you have to understand that Nell was a particularly strategic choice on Jon’s part. The proposal happened on a Thursday (see below) and required that I take the afternoon off work to drive to Snoqualmie. Day of, it also happened to be raining. Jon knows Nell is the person I would drop everything for and hike in a torrential downpour, no questions asked.

2. Jon connives with his parents to get them to Seattle

On top of his other sneakiness, Jon got his parents to book a weekend in Seattle. He didn’t have a great reason why they were coming, but I wrote it off as a visit to Judy’s family (it wasn’t).

Josh, Judy, and my parents had planned to have dinner while they were in town--supposedly just the four of them (lies). As many of you know, my parents are kind of like migratory birds--they move around a bit. So the only night that both sets of parents would be in Seattle was Thursday, June 8th. So, Jon had a date.

3. Jon tells pretty much everyone but me that we’re getting engaged so they can be involved and make it awesome. Just a few people who were in on this thing (and proof that I am far more oblivious than I like to think):

Jon’s grandma, who graciously gifted the beautiful ring Jon’s grandma proposed to her with in 1950

Some chick on Etsy, who made an incredible custom ring box engraved with my name and with a map of where Jon and I met inside

My mom, who picked out outfits to be ready for me so we could transition from hike to dinner quickly

The restaurant, since Jon made reservations at a beautiful restaurant near the ferry terminal in Seattle called Aqua

The florist, since Jon also ordered flowers to be placed on the dinner table, because he isn’t very detailed oriented (that is sarcasm.)

4. Jon gets super romantic and makes it all full circle

After showing up to the trailhead where Nell was supposed to meet us, we sat in the car waiting for her--and for the rain to slow down (it was pouring). Eventually, Nell sent a text letting us know she’d been “held up” with her boss and wouldn’t be able to make it. (This is when my radar turned on. Nell is a whimsical one, but not one to cancel plans made a month in advance.)

While waiting, Jon mentioned he thought there was a “nice viewpoint pretty early in the hike” and we could just do that to “at least say we hiked”. I won’t say I KNEW at this point, but, ya know...I kinda knew.

We started up the trail, which Jon knew especially well for someone who had never hiked it before (more mental flags), and eventually reached a turnoff, where a tree was engraved as a marker to the summit. Jon pointed it out: Mt Washington. The same mountain we’d met on two and half years ago in Vermont. Cue the waterworks.

The rest of it was a bit of a blur, but it included the following, in no particular order: an incredible, inscribed ring box (see above), Jon kneeling in a giant mud puddle, outrageous laughter, ugly crying, selfies, and lots and LOTS of “I love you” and “What just happened?!”

5. Our parents surprise us at a gorgeous restaurant. There’s champagne and wine and incredible seafood and lots of story telling and laughter and reminiscing. Basically picture your favorite rom com, except with way better looking people, obviously.

It was wonderful. The whole night was incredibly memorable and I’m so grateful for all the work he and our families put into it. I’m a very lucky lady. So now we’re just laying low, enjoying our engagement, not worrying about the wedding at all.

Ha.

No. Apparently even people who want to be “low key” about planning their wedding have to start this shit a year out. I’m kind of exhausted already, though not nearly as exhausted as Jon (read: you know I love this stuff), so the next 15 months or so should be interesting. In our particular scenario, there’s the miiinor detail of me converting to Judaism. So, we’ll be starting that process by meeting some local Rabbis while we look for venues somewhere near Seattle, put together a guest list (apparently you need the guest list before the venue?! Who knew.), and--as one particularly obnoxious wedding blog puts it--”defining our wedding mission statement”. Whatever that means.

Awwwwwww.

[kileygoestobschool-blog]

12 Months isn’t THAT long...right?

Remember back when I would apologize profusely for not posting for a few weeks? Yeah, me either. Please just picture me in the human-equivalent position to a dog with her tail between her legs but an incredibly endearing look on her face so it’s impossible to be actually upset. Perfect.

So, yes; it’s been...over a year since I last posted. Which makes sense, given how uneventful the past twelve months have been (I know it’s been a while, so you may need some time to readjust to my humor. While you do: that was sarcasm). In fact, all that’s happened since May of last year is:

1) Jon and I graduated from Tuck.

2) I got a job. In Portland.

3) Jon and I meandered our way across the country.

4) We leased an apartment. In Portland.

5) I got another job (at the same company). Still in Portland.

6) Jon got a job. In Seattle.

7) We bought a house. In Seattle.

So clearly nothing to update about there. The sleuthiest among you may also sense some geographical dissonance in the list above--very astute, dear reader. Things are indeed complicated, but what follows is a cliff’s notes of all of those highlights and an attempt at explaining how we live in two places at once (no, no metaphysics involved). You may want to go to the bathroom first...this could get long.

1) Jon and I graduated from Tuck:

This one’s pretty self-explanatory, so I won’t waste precious eye time. Suffice to say they gave us diplomas and sent us on our way. Fun extra tidbit: our graduation was outside during one of the more aggressive rain storms I’ve experienced in North America. We looked really, really good in our photos at the end.

2&5) I got a job. In Portland. Then got another job (at the same company):

(Before I start, I have to record this. I just forgot the “r” in Portland and realized how incredible and appropriate it was.).

A little less self-explanatory. Here are the key takeaways (what? You don’t summarize your life steps with key takeaways? You can take the girl out of the business school…):

Company: Brandlive They make a live video platform (read: software) for companies (mostly brands, e.g. Nike, adidas, etc.) to use for training and commerce events. Think of it this way: instead of flying 500 sales managers around the country to train 20,000 shoe salespeople in Nike stores around the country, Nike can have ONE of those sales managers host a live video session and ALL of the salespeople can tune in. In other words, scaling human interaction.

Role: first, Director of Operations; then, Sr. Dir. Operations & Customer Success. I know. It’s a lot of words. Basically, Operations means do all the little things that need to happen to make the company run and start thinking about all the other little things that will need to happen when the company gets bigger. Customer Success is a techy term for Account Manager.

The story gets a bit...proprietary, so I’ll keep it high level. If you’re dying for the juicy details, you know where to find me (tip: pour a glass of wine first. Or whiskey. Yeah, probably whiskey.).

Summary is I was hired to do Operations, which I love. I also have experience in Customer Success from my time at MuleSoft. The person who was previously heading up Customer Success was reassigned and I added that role onto my original one. It entails leading a team of four account managers, ensuring our customers are happy so they stick around and buy more things from us.

3) Jon & I meandered our way across the country:

We took two weeks driving from upstate New York to Portland. Highlights were visits to friends and family: Nana & Bompa in Wisconsin, Jon’s friend XXX and my fried Liz in Denver, Lauren in Taos, New Mexico, and stops in four national parks Badlands, Bryce, Grand Canyon, and Zion. And, of course, the highlight of ANY cross-country road trip: Wall Drug (not really, that place is pretty underwhelming after the 200 miles of signs leading up to it). Oh, and I got a job along the way, which was good, since we were already halfway across America and really needed a final destination. Also, we broke down and bought a selfie stick. It was awesome.

4) We leased an apartment. In Portland.

Also pretty self-explanatory. The apartment is on Mississippi Avenue, a trendy commercial street just on the east side of the Willamette river, in NE Portland. We absolutely love the neighborhood, and compared to SF and DC, the rent is pretty awesome too.

6) Jon got a job. In Seattle.

Here’s where we start to get a little geographically challenged. After consulting for an east coast company throughout Tuck and into the fall of 2016, Jon was looking for work here in Portland, but I also encouraged him to expand his search to Seattle, since we knew we wanted to end up there eventually (hello, free child care). Well, turns out fate wanted us there even sooner than we’d planned; Jon got a job at a startup called Dataminr and officially starting working there in February. Since then, we’ve been swapping weekends between Portland and Seattle, generally trying to go with the flow and pretend this is how all couples live. (Spoiler alert: it’s not. It sucks. Don’t do it.) Other than the 200 miles it puts between us, Jon’s job has been great. He’s learning a ton about startup life and the tech industry while doing what he does for fun anyway: reading the news. It’s kind of ridiculously perfect for him, actually.

7) We bought a house. In Seattle.

Soooo, that whole “we’ll end up in Seattle at some point” thing is pretty much happening in real time. After about 36 hours of working in different cities, we realized it wasn’t going to last. We knew Seattle was the long-term plan, and since rent prices in Seattle are absurd, we knew we wanted to buy (and because we have incredible families, that was actually an option). So after three months, one rescinded offer, one (barely) losing offer, and one or two miiiinor fights, we finally did it. The house is in Greenwood, just north of Green Lake, and we are very, very excited about it. We’re still in escrow, but should be moving in before the end of the month (also our lease in Portland is up May 31, so we kind of have to). Pictures coming soon!

And there you have it, people. Twelve months in two pages (tumblr doesn’t have actual pages, so you’re just gonna need to trust me on that). There’s a lot left out, of course; a lot of memories, laughter, tears, whiskey drinks, and ikea furniture to fill you in on, but it’s a start, and it feels really, really good to be back.

[kileygoestobschool-blog]

Back in Baku and on to Kosovo

After a relatively quick ride from Qebela to the outskirts of Baku, we spent about 35 minutes driving the last four blocks to our destination. By the time we were out of the car, we were deeply in need of a drink, so we settled into a nearby café for some beer, chips, and salty cheese strings (it’s better than it sounds, promise). We were also in need of wifi, which the café had, to figure out just where we were headed. Our hotel, the Fairmont Flame Towers, is a landmark in Baku, and the nicest hotel in the country (though at the price of an Embassy Suites in a small US city), but our driver from the country wasn’t familiar with it, so we’d had him drop us on the Boulevard in the hopes that we could walk. After checking google, however, we quickly realized another car would be wise, so we walked a few more blocks and hopped in another cab. We checked into the hotel but our room wasn’t ready, so we relaxed in the outdoor restaurant with some delicious (albeit overpriced) mojitos.

Once in our room, we spent about 20 minutes taking pictures. The place was incredible. Our view was of the Caspian Sea and just about the entire city of Baku (pictures below), and the room itself was almost as nice. Once we’d gotten our fill of Instagram-worthy shots, we showered and got ready for dinner. Jon had already chosen an amazing restaurant nearby, which was conveniently located just below a rooftop bar, where we had a drink before eating. The weather, the view, the cocktails, and the food were all incredible, making for a great and memorable last night in Azerbaijan.

The next afternoon, after Jon met up with a former student and I relaxed by the pool, we were on our way to Kosovo. Our itinerary was less than ideal, with a two-hour flight to Istanbul, then a nine-hour layover before our two-hour flight to Pristina, Kosovo. We passed our time in the Istanbul airport by paying for a day pass to an airport lounge, which gave us access to food, drinks, and couches—everything we could ask for.

We arrived to our hotel in Kosovo the next day around 9:00am, had breakfast, and promptly returned to be to sleep for a few hours (the aforementioned lounge couches were shockingly not ideal for achieving REM cycle). In the afternoon, we went for a quick walk around town before meeting up with our classmates and the University of Pristina students we would be working with for dinner.

The restaurant the students had chosen for us was on the outskirts of the city, to the point that for a significant portion of the ride we wondered if we should be concerned about being kidnapped by a group of 19-year-olds. Luckily, their intentions were pure, and we arrived at an outdoor restaurant set in a beautiful garden. For the next few hours we were treated to delicious Kosovar food while getting to know the students and discussing our plans for the week.

As a sidebar, a bit of context about our trip to Kosovo. We were there with four other Tuck students as part of an independent study, for which we received credit equivalent to one class. Officially, grades had already been submitted before we arrived in Kosovo, so nothing we did in-country would impact our ability to get credit (which was good, because we were all second-year students who needed those credits to graduate three weeks later). Our project was an extension of a consulting engagement two of our team members completed last December, a USAID-funded project aimed to close the gap between academic curriculum at the University of Pristina (UP) and the labor market. UP has about 60,000 students, which is quite a lot in a country of 1.8 million people, and Kosovo as a whole has an unemployment rate of about 60% (not good). USAID is beginning to have concerns about the unemployment rate leading to radicalization of young men in the country, and hopes that projects like ours can help increase employment and provide stability to prevent it.

The consulting project in December had revealed that a big factor in the unemployment issue was that university students weren’t learning things in school that actually translated to the labor market. Our project was to address that issue by helping students at UP create clubs where students could help one another develop skills that were more attractive to employers. We had spent the term writing a research paper and developing a two-day workshop in which we would train the students about how to run clubs. Okay, end sidebar.

Our conversation with the students during that first dinner made it painfully obvious that the workshop we had prepared was completely off-base. We had planned to talk about actually running clubs, but the students were asking questions like “what are clubs?” Woops.

So we spent the next day completely revamping our workshop. We joined up with our, for lack of a better word, “handler” a graduate student who we had asked to help us during our time in country. He was absolutely amazing, helping us with everything from buying food for snacks and making reservations at great restaurants to getting meetings with the appropriate people at the University. We met up with him and his girlfriend for dinner that evening and once again he did not disappoint. We had an amazing feast of more meat than I’ve eaten in the last year, incredible bread, and enough dips to put the Greek to shame.

The next day we began our workshop, and the students seemed to find it incredibly helpful. By the third day, they were pitching their ideas for clubs to other students, which was especially rewarding to see (admittedly the pitches were all in Albanian, so they could have been talking about the worthless workshop put on by the dumb Americans for all we know). After the final session on Thursday, we were off to Kosovo…wine country (I know, not what you were expecting. But it exists. Really.).

Next up a few observations about Kosovo in general, and our time back in the U.S. for our Tuck graduation!

For now: pictures!

Beer, chips, and salty cheese. Seriously, it’s better than you’re thinking.

View from our hotel room at the Flame Towers in Baku

Last night in Baku!

Some of us were more successful at falling asleep in the airport lounge than others. (Hint: I took this photo. While awake.)

[kileygoestobschool-blog]

Azerbaijan Days 4&5: Gebela

We left Bilǝsuvar Wednesday morning, catching a cab back to Baku, where we transferred to a small bus that would take us to Gebele. Jon seemed especially surprised by how smoothly the whole trip went, so apparently intra-city travel in Azerbaijan is normally a serious hassle. For us, though, the entire trip took only about six hours, so we arrived at our hotel in Gebele—the Qafqaz Karvansaray—by around 2:30pm. Since our hotel in Bilǝsuvar had been, um…Spartan…we were incredibly excited to discover how lavish the Karvansaray was (pictures below).

That afternoon, we walked into the town of Gebele (“town” might be generous, but it was somewhere between that and a village) and found a teahouse, where we (shocker!) drank tea and tried to ignore the stares from the other guests—all men, apparently very confused as to why Jon had allowed me out of the house that day. Later, we returned to the hotel for dinner, where we realized we were two of about 10 guests at the hotel. Since the dining room was absolutely massive and straight out of a 1920’s ballroom, the whole experience kind of had the feel of dining on an abandoned cruise ship.

After breakfast the next morning (equally packed—about six people in a 300-person dining room), we took a car to a nearby hiking trail, which took us through farmlands and into the forest a bit to the top of a beautiful waterfall. When we’d finished that, we caught another car to the mountain village of Laza, a bit north of Gebele, where we expected to find an inn with a restaurant where we would have a late lunch. Turned out Laza was gorgeous, but no inn to be found. There was another restaurant Jon had come across in his research that was situated alongside the river that ran between Laza and Gebele, so we figured if we walked back in the direction of Gebele, following the river, we’d eventually stumble upon it. Tricky thing was that we didn’t know if it was one mile or seven, and by that point we had already been walking for about four hours. We made it about a mile before we reached a bend that allowed us to see quite a ways down the river—no restaurant. Lucky for us, a few minutes later we passed a teahouse/kebab restaurant/shack in the middle of absolutely nowhere. We asked the man working there for directions, but instead of telling us and sending us on our way, he offered to drive us there. Obviously, this was either the best thing that could happen or we were about to be murdered in rural Azerbaijan (since you’re reading this, I think you can guess the outcome). Not only did we not die, but the man, after dropping us safely at the restaurant, gave us cheese! Fresh cheese he had made himself! We were obviously bowled over by the generosity of the Azeri people.

The restaurant was lovely, with several open-air huts located along what one could (generously) construe as a river, or might equally conclude was a large leak coming from somewhere uphill. Water or not, we were still in the forest, and the trees made it a beautiful setting. Jon and I ordered a few items off the menu (four to be specific. This will be important shortly.) and were very pleasantly surprised when, instead of the one appetizer we had ordered, we received a tray full of cheeses, olives, pickled vegetables, and other assorted salads, as well as some delicious juice in addition to the wine we had ordered. How nice!

No. Not nice. Not nice at all.

An hour later, Jon is in a heated debate with our server, who had brought a bill more than twice as large as anything we had paid, including much nicer restaurants in Baku. Turns out, all of those fun little dishes weren’t free, but the restaurant felt it could serve us an entire section of the menu that we hadn’t ordered. Also turns out, instead of serving us the chicken kebab we had originally requested—which cost about $5—the waiter had brought us the chicken “platter,” which cost over $20. Now, the exchange rate in Azerbaijan right now is quite favorable to us Americans, so the bill wasn’t actually that expensive in dollar terms, and much cheaper than any comparable experience we might have in the U.S. But really—it was the principle of the thing!

I was very impressed by Jon’s Azerbaijani-debating skills, which stayed strong for a solid 15 minutes, with both our waiter and the second waiter he waved over to gang up on Jon. I honestly think we could have gotten somewhere, but apparently the waiter eventually said, “we make about $3 to work here, we don’t make the rules, if we don’t serve you this, we’re not doing our job,” which obviously was the kryptonite to any argument we could really make, so Jon conceded and we—and our bruised egos—got up and left. So much for the generosity of the Azeri people (to be fair, they are deeply generous people, but we had just been scammed, so I was willing to make sweeping, subjective stereotypes).

That night we settled into our hotel room, watched movies on Netflix, and ordered some ridiculously cheap room service (really, other than those criminals at lunch, this whole country is absurdly affordable). The next day we were back on the road, returning to Baku for one more night in Azerbaijan.

Beautiful view from Laza

Waterfall hike!

Adorable courtyard at our hotel

Dinner in the empty dining room

[kileygoestobschool-blog]

Azerbaijan Days 2&3: Bilǝsuvar

Monday morning we met up with a driver who had been arranged by a few of Jon’s friends to take us to Bilǝsuvar, the town where Jon spent his two Peace Corps years. Unfortunately, it turned out the driver who actually picked us up wasn’t the one Jon’s friend was familiar with, and was instead apparently a Formula 1 racecar driver in the making, so we spent the next three hours genuinely thinking about how to contact our families and say goodbye. Well, okay, Jon did, I (as anyone who has ridden in a car with me has already guessed) was mostly fast asleep.

We arrived in Bilǝsuvar in the afternoon, checked into our hotel—not quite as nice as the one in Baku (this is me being generous; it was nowhere close to as nice)—and went to walk the town before dinner at his host family’s house. Approximately 0.2 seconds after walking out the door of the hotel (this is an exaggeration, but honestly it was less than two minutes), it was blatantly clear to me that Jon—or “Chon” in the Azerbaijani pronunciation—was basically a celebrity here. We couldn’t get more than a block without some random store owner or passerby yelling “Chon!!” and stopping him to ask how he was and what in the world he was doing back in Bilǝsuvar.  Immediately apparent to me in these interactions—in addition to the amazing impact Jon must have had on these people—was that my role as a woman was going to be very different for the next few days. None of the men that stopped Jon even acknowledged my presence, much less spoke to me. Jon had warned me about this, though, so I was mostly prepared.

After walking through town, with Jon pointing out what was new (a lot) and what existed during his time there, we made our way to his host family’s house. Jon had a bit of trouble identifying which one was theirs (to be fair, it has been six years since he left, and all of these houses looked the same), but eventually we found it, and he was warmly welcomed by his host parents (I was also warmly welcomed by his host mother. His host father…not so much, but again, I’d been warned). For the next five hours (no, I am not exaggerating) we sat with them in the family room drinking tea, with Jon chatting and me sitting silently, watching the conversation like a tennis match. Jon did a good job keeping me in the loop by translating, but for the most part I kept myself entertained by identifying Azerbaijani words that sounded anything like English words (spoiler: there are very few). After a few hours, the oldest of Jon’s host brothers came in, and later one of his friends joined us. Eventually, we ate dinner: an incredibly delicious meal of stuffed grape leaves and a chicken and rice dish called plov. After dinner, Jon’s other host brother—who we had been waiting to see—came home, and after chatting a bit with him we made our way back to the hotel.

In chatting about the evening, Jon and I both agreed it had been extremely difficult. For me, not being a part of the conversation, and feeling marginalized as a woman, was hard. For him, having to make conversation in a language he hadn’t spoken in six years was hard enough, but on top of that, being back in his host parents’ home was understandably a reminder of some of the more challenging portions of his time in Azerbaijan—adjusting to a new culture and language, thousands of miles from family and friends. We were both a bit unsettled by the whole experience, but hoped that the following day would be better (another spoiler: it was).

We started the next morning with breakfast at our hotel, then went to meet up with Jon’s student Samir, whose English is better than mine, so we were able to spend most of the day speaking in English, which I obviously appreciated. Samir went with us to visit another teacher that Jon worked with, who also spoke English, and then to the school itself, where I got to see where Jon worked every day. After, we went back to the hotel for a break, and Jon met up with another friend of his (a dentist!) while I napped (hey, jetlag is real, people).

For dinner, we went to the home of Jon’s closest friend in Bilǝsuvar, Elșǝn (Elshen). Elșǝn, along with his mother, brother, wife, and 3-year-old daughter, welcomed us with such warmth that it was immediately clear to me why he and his family had meant so much to Jon. We spent the next few hours drinking tea (why yes, you are beginning to sense a trend, there’s more than a bit of tea drinking here), eating dinner, and visiting. Elșǝn and his family made me feel incredibly welcomed and accepted—a much-appreciated change from the general approach toward women I had been experiencing. The entire family was relaxed, funny, generous, and open, and they made our time with them the clear highlight of our visit to Bilǝsuvar—maybe even to Azerbaijan in general.

After dinner, we had one more person to see: Jon’s co-teacher. Şǝlalǝ (“Shelale,” it means waterfall, which is awesome). After trying for a baby for most of the time Jon was here, Şǝlalǝ and her husband had a daughter last year, so it was especially nice for Jon to be able to visit with Şǝlalǝ and meet her daughter. We drank tea (yes, again), ate delicious desserts, and laughed about how adorable their daughter was for the next few hours. It was a great end to a day that helped show me what—or who—had been so special about Bilǝsuvar for Jon.

The next morning we were up early to catch a ride to our next destination: the mountain town of Gebele.

Elșǝn and his family! (I don’t wanna brag, but me and the little one were basically best buds by the time we left.)

Jon and some of his students--all grown up since the last time he saw them.

Tea & dessert with  Şǝlalǝ’s family

[kileygoestobschool-blog]

Azerbaijan Day 1: Baku

Travel to Azerbaijan was ridiculously easy. We flew from Washington, D.C., where Jon had his SAIS graduation, to Istanbul. Our layover there was only an hour, and by the time we were off the plane, our second flight was already boarding. We saw pretty quickly that we were at gate 215, which was great news, since we’d come into gate 228—13 gates—that’s nothing! Well, those of you who’ve spent much time in the Istanbul airport are probably laughing pretty hard right now, because 13 gates at Ataturk is still about a mile and a half. Jon and I sprinted the whole way, arriving embarrassingly out of breath to our gate where—you probably know what’s coming—they hadn’t even begun to think about boarding yet. People were milling around as if we still had hours before our departure. So much for close calls, but at least we got some exercise in (let’s face it, probably the only workout we’ll get the whole trip).

Eventually we did board, and the flight from Istanbul to Baku was quick and easy. We landed around 9pm at the Baku airport—hands down the most ornate airport I’ve ever seen—grabbed our bags, got some cash, and met our driver. A quick half hour drive across roads smooth, straight, and well-lit enough to put the Autobahn to shame, and we were in the old city of Baku. We checked into the Sultan Inn Hotel, which Jon had expertly selected after some intensive Tripadvisor research sessions (I am so, so proud), and were shown to our amazing room: sitting area, fireplace, gorgeous furniture—the works. On the coffee table was even a bottle of wine chilling in ice—a nice touch by the hotel, I thought. Upon further inspection, though, there was a letter sitting next to the ice bucket addressed to “Kiley Jean”—either this hotel was creepily good at researching its guests, or my boyfriend was the sneakiest, most thoughtful guy around (spoiler: it was the second one). After quite a bit of “oh my god…you really did this? Seriously? You actually planned this?” and maybe (fine, definitely) a few tears, we enjoyed our bottle of wine before heading out to walk the city.

We walked from our hotel to the “Boulevard,” a walking path that follows the waterfront for miles, and wandered our way to a restaurant toward the end of it. A few minutes later we had glasses of wine (yes, more. No need to judge.) and a nice spread of chocolates and mixed nuts in front of us. The upside of the eight-hour time difference meant that we were absurdly energetic for 1:00 in the morning, but eventually we forced ourselves back to the hotel and into bed.

Our first full day in Baku was about as ideal as you could want (actually, I don’t know what you want—it was as ideal as I could want): low 70’s, sunshine, and a nice breeze. After breakfast at the hotel, we went to explore the old city a bit more. It’s a beautiful, walled-in portion of Baku, with mostly cobblestone streets and sand-colored stone buildings, many of which have been reconstructed or refurbished (so, yes, it’s more like the…mostly new city that still looks old). The old city proper is pretty small, so we’d basically covered it after 45 minutes or so of walking. Next, we climbed the Maiden Tower—a huge stone tower that’s basically the crowning jewel of the old city. The views from the roof were spectacular, which was good, since climbing it meant waiting for hordes (this is not an exaggeration, there were at least 300 of them) of students to run—mostly while screaming—either up or down between levels before we were able to move from one floor to another.

After our climb down, we found a nice outdoor café and had some tea and quince jam—which is apparently a thing here. The “jam” is more like chunky fruit preserves, extremely sweet, and served alone, so not actually that close to what we would call jam at all. I learned pretty quickly that a bite or two is more than enough, even if they do serve it in giant bowls that make you think you should eat it like cereal.

After tea we went back to the hotel to rest (yes, drinking tea is exhausting) before heading back to the Boulevard (am I the only one who thinks of 1950’s teenagers hanging out in letter jackets and smoking cigarettes when I hear this term? Probably.) to meet up with three of the students Jon taught and coached during his time in the Peace Corps. The five of us walked a bit before settling in at an outdoor café and ordering (you’ll never guess) tea and jam (I was old hat at this point—only one bite for me). The next few hours consisted of Jon and his students chatting away in Azerbaijani and me pretending I was even remotely able to follow along. Fun fact: Jon is still basically fluent, and Azeri people are not used to foreigners knowing their language (weird, right?), so every time he busts it out you see people cock their heads (if you’re picturing what a dog does when you ask it questions, you’re spot on) before responding with serious respect (meanwhile I’m just sitting there, clueless).

Once we’d finished visiting, Jon and I headed back to the hotel to rest (I’m telling you, tea drinking is exhausting) and do some work for our upcoming project in Kosovo (the whole being done with school forever thing didn’t last long). Later, we went to dinner at another seriously well-researched spot, a restaurant called Firuze. Our table was in what I can only describe as a semi-private dining area, with only one other table in the room. The whole place was built of stone, and had an almost castle-like feel to it. Jon was in charge of ordering (my only requirement was that it be traditional Azeri food) and he did not disappoint. We had stuffed vegetables, fresh salad, a chicken and rice dish, and kebabs, along with traditional Azeri bread called tandir, which is basically focaccia without the spices (aka amazing).

After eating (way too much) we met up with more of Jon’s friends. One was also a past student, and the other had worked at the school where Jon volunteered. The good news for me was that their English was incredible and they were kind enough to use it for my sake. We settled in at a bar, drank some local beer, and chatted for a few hours. When the bartender was yawning in our direction and we realized we were the only people left, we figured it might be time to go. Jon and I returned to the hotel for one last night before heading off to the town where he lived during his time here, Bilasuvar.

On the plane to Baku!

Our room in Baku 

Wine & snacks on the Boulevard

View of Baku from the Boulevard

A typical storefront in Baku’s old city

[kileygoestobschool-blog]

Nine weeks in 19 minutes or less*

I feel like I start every entry off apologizing for how long it’s been since my last entry. I could totally do that, because you absolutely deserve such an apology—it’s been forever—but hey, let’s buck the trend! I’m back and I’m not sorry it’s been so long.

That last nine weeks have been pretty eventful, so to catch you up in nineteen minutes or less (*okay, fair, I have no idea how quickly you’re capable of reading. Let’s say it’s somewhere between eight and 22, depending on your skimming abilities/interest level/willpower not to click over to one of the other 16 tabs you have open right now), here is a bulleted list of the exciting things that happened, accompanied by pictures (mostly related, some I’m just hoping are from the event I put them next to. My memory is…ya know, fallible):

1.      Went to Texas for a wedding

About three days after getting back to Hanover from Spring break, we left again (I promise it’s actually quite lovely there, we weren’t avoiding it). We headed down to Dallas for a weekend to celebrate the wedding of one of Jon’s Peace Corps friends. This meant I got to meet a lot of the people Jon was in Azerbaijan with, and as you can probably guess, people who spend two years of their youth in Azerbaijan voluntarily are pretty much some of the most interesting and amazing humans around. We all shared an Airbnb in the suburbs, visited the gorgeous Dallas arboretum (apparently Texas knows how to do more than just smoked meats and great music), and got to play dress up thanks to the bride’s sister being generous enough to lend all the women saris. Hence the outfits—I don’t own anything remotely that nice.

2.      Celebrated my first Passover (not Jon’s, he’s been doing it for a while, actually)

A few weeks later, we were in Boston for a long weekend to celebrate my first Passover. For those not aware (i.e. me, like…14 months ago), the Passover holiday commemorates the freeing of the Jewish slaves from Egypt a long, long time ago. They had been enslaved by the Egyptians, and Moses—a total badass, even though he kind of didn’t want to be—went to the Egyptian king and told him to let his people go! The king, as you might imagine, was not so stoked on that idea, so what ensued was a period of some pretty terrible stuff—the 10 plagues you’ve probably (maybe?) heard of: locusts and frogs and water turning to blood and all sorts of things that were God’s not-so-gentle message to the Egyptian king that maybe he should listen to Moses. Eventually, the Jews escaped, following Moses across the Red Sea (yep, the whole parting of the seas thing. See? You know more than you thought!), and spent the next week in the desert. The thing was, the window for escape was pretty narrow, so they didn’t really have time to prep; so little time, in fact, that they had to grab their bread before it had time to rise. So, today, to honor that, the week of Passover is meant to be a time when Jews eat nothing leavened (and a few other foods whose connection to yeast I’m trying to figure out). Many families will remove any bread products from their house, and use a special set of dishes that have never had bread on them. Some (well financed) families will even have a separate kitchen to be used only during the week of Passover.

Okay, history lesson over. So the actual holiday of Passover starts with two Seders—basically long dinners during which you retell the story I just described, and think about how the themes of that story might still be applicable today (e.g. considering our responsibility to help address the migration crisis, or discussing what freedom means to us personally). You’re also required to drink four glasses of wine (okay, it could also be juice, but…why?), and there’s lots of singing and general merriment. Picture a rowdy table at a wedding with lots of speeches and songs and delicious food (minus the bread) and you’re on the right track.

So for my first Passover, we celebrated the first Seder with family friends of the Elkins’ and the second Seder was hosted by Jon’s parents at their house. It was great getting both experiences and being able to see how differently people celebrate while including most of the same traditions.

3.      Finished our last term at Tuck

Oh yeah, that. We’re MBAs now. No big deal. (And yeah, I do realize I need to rename this blog. I’ll get there.)

4.      Jon (the overachiever that he is) graduated from his other graduate program, SAIS (Johns Hopkins school of international studies)

Jon has two graduate degrees, because he’s smart, and hardworking, and wants to make the rest of us look bad (that last one isn’t true, but it makes me feel better). He earned his Masters of Arts in Economics and International Development from the Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies (did I succeed in making that sound as fancy as possible?) and I’m very, very proud of him. We and his parents went to D.C. for the graduation and it was lovely.

5.      Sent a LOT of cover letters

Since we’re not actually students anymore, apparently the expectation is that we get jobs (social norms are really soul-crushing in that way). So over the past nine weeks we’ve also been sending out lots and lots of applications. Given the next point, though, our timeline is a bit delayed, so we’ll be focusing more on the whole employment thing in a few weeks when we’re back in the U.S…which brings me to the last thing we did:

6.      Booked tickets to Azerbaijan and Kosovo

So, Tuck has this program called First Year Projects (FYPs), which are basically pro-bono consulting projects that we do in the spring of our first year. We can either try to find a project ourselves, or Tuck has a pre-populated list of projects we can select from. This year, on that list was a project funded by USAID to travel to Kosovo and deliver a workshop to teach University of Pristina students about how to start and run student clubs. Well, apparently all the first year students are super weird (not really, they’re lovely) because nobody selected the project. Normally, that would mean it just doesn’t get completed, and life goes on. In this case, though, the USAID funding meant that the project had to be done (governments, right??). So the office that coordinates the projects reached out to a few second year students who had traveled to Kosovo last year to ask them if they had any interest in returning. They did, and they asked a few other students—including Jon and I—if we wanted to join (uh, duh.). So suddenly we had a trip planned to Kosovo a week after classes ended. And what better to do with that interim week than travel to the country where Jon spent his two Peace Corps years (I mean, if we’re gonna be in the neighborhood)? So suddenly we also had a trip planned to Azerbaijan.

And that’s basically the recap. We’re in Azerbaijan now, so will have some travel posts up in the next few days!

Those might not have been just orange juice. Prepping for our last business school formal (aka adult prom) in Woodstock.

Last day of school (like, forever)!

Wedding in Dallas (where apparently I brought a camera from 1992)

This guy, amiright??

And to mix things up, a picture of Dallas Arboretum flowers, i.e. not of me and Jon (you’re welcome). 

[kileygoestobschool-blog]

Sometimes I write entries on planes and forget to post them

...this is one of those times. For your reading pleasure, an entry on our spring break...three months ago:

Whoa. And just like that…spring break is over. It was a whirlwind two and half weeks (I know, our breaks are…well, ridiculously long. It’s awesome.). We took full advantage of the time off, splitting the break evenly between fun and work (and by “work” I mean “trying to find work”).

Jon and I hit the road the day before classes ended, drove down to Boston and spent the night there before catching a flight to New Orleans first thing the next morning. We spent the weekend doing exactly what one is meant to do in New Orleans: eating, drinking, and enjoying some incredible music. Some meal highlights included oysters at Felix’s (two words, people: buffalo. oysters.), an impromptu breakfast at Slim Goodies Diner, and “world famous” six-minute gin fizzes at O Bar on Bourbon street (they make you sign a book when you order one, so I guess they’re kind of a big deal?). Jon also made the incredible discovery of a show being played a Grammy-nominated brass band that plays every Sunday in a dive bar in the Warehouse district.

After New Orleans we were off to Seattle for ten days of recruiting and family time. Jon’s mom was also in town, so she got to meet Sue and Freddie at a fun happy hour. I joined Jon’s family for Shabbat dinner and brunch, and Jon and I did a bit of wandering around the city to consider different neighborhoods we might want to live in when we move in four months (I honestly hadn’t actually realized how soon that was until I just typed it and now I’m kind of panicking). ANYWAY. We also squeezed in a quick weekend trip to Portland to visit Katrina and eat what is, without a doubt (hyperbole alert!), the world’s best ice cream at Salt & Straw. I’m not even exaggerating that much, people, this stuff is life changing. Otherwise the time in Seattle was spent meeting with people to learn more about local companies and (hopefully) begin to network our way into jobs.

Next up was a day in Savannah, Georgia, en route to Hilton Head Island, where we were meeting up with the Olson clan for our (almost) annual family vacation. The only issue: this wasn’t just any day in Savannah, it was St. Paddy’s Day, which is apparently code for a city-wide, four-day frat party. Upon checking in to our hotel, we were given mandatory wristbands (picture the neon bracelets you get at an all-inclusive resort) to identify us, since drunk people wandering into the hotel and trying to access people’s rooms was apparently an issue. We tried our best to avoid the debauchery by settling into a dive bar and watching March Madness all day.

The next morning Sue, Fredrik, Lori, and Ed drove through Savannah on their trip from Atlanta, picked us up, and swept us off to Hilton Head. After a ridiculously delicious lunch at the Sea Shack, we arrived at our rental house for the week: an eight-bedroom beauty straight out of HGTV heaven. After 20 minutes spent running around like an 8-year-old who’s just been told Santa is hiding in one of the rooms, I settled down (kind of), and basically spent the next 24 hours watching more March Madness (it was a big weekend of games, people). Highlight: Wisconsin’s incredible buzzer-beater victory over Xavier. I would pay some serious (debt-financed) money to have video footage of our collective reaction to the gorgeous game-winning three pointer. Let’s just say there was a bit of jumping up and down and more than a bit of “WHAT? WHAT? WHAAAAAAT???”

Other than fanatical basketball watching, we did our usual Hilton Head thing: rode bikes to Harbortown, had lunch (and the world’s best hush puppies) at the Salty Dog, walked along the beach, and drank one too many of Sue’s margaritas and/or Freddie’s mojitos. Three incredible days that made us wonder if returning to Hanover for these things called “classes” could really be that important. What would just a few more days hurt?

Alas, we are responsible adults (ha.), so back to school we go. Well, for 36 hours at least. We’ll arrive in Hanover Wednesday morning, go to classes for Wednesday and Thursday, then get back in the car Thursday evening to drive back to Boston and catch a flight Friday morning to Dallas for the wedding of one of Jon’s Peace Corps friends. I know, I know, every post just brings you back to the same conclusion: life as an MBA student is tough.

 And now: pictures!

Riding bikes in Hilton Head!

New Orleans waterfront

Jon, beignets. Beignets, Jon. I have a feeling you’ll be good friends.

[kileygoestobschool-blog]

Here’s how bad it got: I forgot that I forgot.

Let me explain. Normally, when I forget to blog, I have this nagging, ceaseless guilt (thanks, Catholic school) that sticks around until I finally put up a new post. For the past THREE MONTHS, though, I’ve been so busy I actually forgot that I’d forgotten to post. Downside: no posts. Upside: no guilt. 

So while I really should be posting about Cuba, and I do hope to get around to that soon (because it was absolutely magical), I’m going to catch you up to today so I can get back on track and post over the coming weeks. Not to worry, though, even though I was busy enough to forget to write, I was busy doing boring things that don’t take long to describe, so we can keep this update brief.

After spending Christmas in Wisconsin and New Year’s Eve in Chicago, Jon and I returned to Hanover for our winter term of classes. For some reason I’m still trying to figure out (mostly so it never happens again), I had a lot of homework, which kept me much busier than I like to let homework keep me (which is not at all). 

Outside of school and homework, i started teaching spinning classes on campus, which also took up an unexpectedly large amount of time (turns out biking to a beat while yelling at people requires a lot of prep). I also began working with a team of students on a consulting project with a company to help them offer healthier food choices to their employees (so I’m basically like a personal trainer/nutritionist/MBA now, sort of). Oh! I also did some recruiting, because apparently when all this is over I’m expected to go back to work. 

Jon and I also snuck in a few trips (what? you thought we stayed in Hanover for nine weeks straight? in the winter? please.) First was a weekend in Philly to celebrate Jon’s friend’s 30th birthday. We karaoke’d, brunched, tasted beer, and generally realized we can’t drink nearly as much as we used to. A few weeks later, we headed up to Ottawa with our friend Robin to experience “Winterlude,” a city-wide festival that lasts three weeks and centers mostly around the canal freezing over and becoming the world’s largest skating rink. We skated our little hearts out, tried BeaverTails for the first time (not to worry, it’s a pastry, I’m not that sadistic), and enjoyed some ridiculously delicious beer bread. Our second day in town we basically tried not to die, as it was 40 below zero and even the Canadians were saying things like, “probably best to stay inside today.” We did brave a trip to a Cold War museum in a super sweet underground bunker, though.

Aaaaand that’s pretty much been the last nine weeks. Homework, spinning, group work, and a bit of travel. We’ve just wrapped up classes (okay, fine, tomorrow is actually the last day but #senioritis) and drove down to Boston this afternoon. We’ll fly from here to New Orleans tomorrow for the first stop on our Spring Break adventures. After that it’s two weeks in Seattle followed by a long weekend in Hilton Head. I know, I know, life is rough. 

[kileygoestobschool-blog]

[kileygoestobschool-blog]

Winter Trip Week 1: Cartagena

So, I think I’m kind of failing at the whole “travel blogging” thing, considering I’m posting my first entry about this trip while sitting in Chicago, two weeks AFTER the trip ended. But as long as I’m in not back in Hanover, I’m technically traveling, so I’m counting it.

In my defense, I did actually write this post while sitting in Panama City’s Tocumen airport, awaiting our flight to Chicago. We’ve spent a surprising amount of time at Tocumen over the past two weeks, as it’s been the hub to our various South American spokes (that’s a wheel metaphor, people). We left Seattle on Sunday, December 6th, flew first to San Francisco (not to visit, just to connect, and for me to say things like “well when I lived in SF…” ad nauseum), then to Panama City, then to Cartagena, Colombia, where we settled in for our five-day visit.

We arrived in Cartagena late Monday morning. Walking outside, we noted it was approximately 845 degrees Fahrenheit, and our plans of productivity and culturally enriching activities for the week went up in smoke (or steam? cause it was so hot...get it?). We drove to our hotel, but were a bit early for check-in, so walked to a nearby restaurant for some much-needed food and cold drinks. It was here that I first experienced the borderline-magical “Limonada de Coco,” basically lemonade blended with ice and coconut milk. Aka: heaven.

After lunch we headed back to the hotel to see if our room was ready. It was, and we promptly fell face-first onto our beds and slept for far longer than a three-hour time difference really justified. After one of those disorienting “Ummm, this isn’t my bed…this isn’t my room...Where. Am. I?” waking up experiences, we got our wits about us, showered, and headed out to explore Cartagena. I had my heart set on a restaurant I’d found on TripAdvisor called Santisimo, so we spent the next hour trying to find it, piecing together with my very out-of-date Spanish that Google’s location of the restaurant was fully incorrect, and using that same terrible Spanish to interpret directions for locals (i.e. lots of wild pointing and nodding, then wandering until we realized we were lost again, then repeating the whole process). Eventually, we found it, and headed inside for an incredibly delicious meal.

The next morning, after a yummy breakfast in the hotel, we headed out to explore Cartagena. Now, as a reminder, the air temperature was hovering around the point where one might consider reheating leftovers in the oven, and the humidity level was about what you’d hope for in an especially well-functioning steam room. Not exactly the conditions you’d wish for in an ideal attraction-visiting day. We walked to a well-known church (so well-known, in fact, that I have absolutely no idea what the name of it is), spent about five minutes in the museum attached to the church, and ventured onto the wall that surrounds all of Cartagena’s old city just long enough to snap a few pictures of the ocean on the other side. By that point, we were soaked in sweat and exhausted, so we made our way to a coffee shop I had on my list (yep, you guessed it: TripAdvisor!), where we had some drinks (yep, you guessed it: Limonada de Coco!), and used the wifi to sit silently staring at our phones, together (the great American pastime). Eventually, we got hungry, so we ventured a few doors down to a restaurant for a small lunch of fish and shrimp (what would turn out to be our diet for the next ten days), then walked back to the hotel for naps and sweat removal.

That night, we had reservations at a restaurant I had found (on some little website called TripAdvisor) called 1621. It was admittedly pretty nice, so Sue and I put on dresses and Fredrik donned his best khaki shorts (did I mention it was 875 degrees out?). Upon arriving at the restaurant, however, we were informed there was a dress code (because apparently it actually IS 1621), and men were required to wear long pants (i.e. risk almost certain death) in order to eat in the dining room. We briefly considered having Fredrik go change, realized how ridiculous that sounded, and then moved our reservations to the next night and went in search of another restaurant nearby. We settled in at Juan del Mar, another well-rated restaurant (did I mention I spent a bit of time on TripAdvisor before we left?), where there was a band playing and the table next to us had an adorable two-year-old whose dance moves provided enough entertainment we considered recommending the parents ask the restaurant for a kick-back. Dinner was delicious as well, and, most importantly, Fredrik’s knees were nice and breezy. We chalked it up to a successful evening.

By Wednesday, we had learned our lesson about attempting to be culturally engaged in Cartagena’s oven-like temperatures, so we did what any self-respecting tourist would do: went to the beach. There are several islands off the coast of Cartagena that offer day passes for tourists who want to escape the city for a day. We took a cab to the nearby marina, boarded a boat with 30 or so other tourists, and rode out to a nearby island to relax, lay in the sun, swim, and generally be worthless. It was lovely.

Later that night we walked to a new neighborhood, Getsemani, for dinner. Getsemani is known for its artsy and young vibe (read: hipsters), and is home to most of Cartagena’s hostels (read: backpackers). We had some mojitos at a “rooftop” bar (okay, those quotes are a little unfair. It was, indeed, the top of a building. It was not, however, anything close to what one associates with the image of a rooftop bar. Namely, it did not overlook anything except for other rooftops and patios; an awkward experience considering those rooftops and patios belonged to private homes, and people were trying to live their lives in theoretical privacy). After drinks we went to a nearby restaurant for pizza, most of which I fed to a kitten (who had presumably wandered over after sensing my inability to say no to anything with fur).

The next morning we planned to visit the fortress just outside of Cartagena’s city wall. We could see the fortress from our hotel, and it looked pretty impressive, so, like the culturally-aware tourists we are, we knew we should visit. So, on Wednesday morning we slept in and took our time with breakfast, then flagged a cab to take us to the fortress…at 11:30am. Now, those of you familiar with weather might be thinking, “hey, isn’t that getting pretty close to the hottest time of day?” Well, snarky but well-educated reader, you would be right. We had, in fact, timed our outing terribly. We arrived to the fortress to find we weren’t the only ones, and stood in line in the direct sunlight while vendors hawked bottled water and hats at us, wondering repeatedly “what in god’s name could possibly take so long to buy tickets?!”

Eventually, we crawled our way to the front of the line, bought our tickets, and hiked the (at this point) hilariously steep hill up to the fortress. We walked around, looking at the view of the city and the stone walls, trying to deny how deeply underwhelming it all was. Eventually we admitted our defeat and walked back down to find a cab back to the hotel, where we spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing (i.e. not being in the heat). Later that night we went to dinner at Cevicheria Wippy, where the food was as good as the name is weird. The owner actually swung by as we were wrapping up our meal, and drunkenly told us his life story before handing us his card and slurring a request to review the restaurant on TripAdvisor (see?! I’m not the only one obsessed with it!).

The next morning, our last in Cartagena, we put all we had learned throughout the week into practice. In other words, we went back to the beach. This time, we chose a smaller island a bit further away from Cartagena called Carolina Island. We took a much smaller boat with only three other tourists (one of whom turned out to be the nephew of the island’s owner), riding for a little over an hour over pretty rough water to what turned out to be a very small dot of land, home to a small hotel and nothing else. We spent a heavenly day enjoying the sun, swimming in the perfectly clear water, and napping. At lunch time we were served deliciously fresh fish and white wine at a table overlooking the water. Basically, we found heaven and were ridiculously spoiled for a day.

When the time came to leave, the water was a bit rougher than it had been that morning. This meant the ride back was a mix between an incredibly deep-tissue massage and a chiropractic realignment gone wrong. There was quite a bit of white-knuckle gripping of seats and nervous laughing after any especially dramatic drops (imagine how your stomach feels on a roller coaster, except instead of a smooth drop without any real impact, you slam into a wall at the bottom. Super fun!). Needless to say, we were in need of some cocktails when we got back, so we took our time getting ready for dinner and while enjoying a few much-needed mojitos. Eventually, we headed to our last dinner in Cartagena, an underwhelming but enjoyable meal of saucy ceviches and a weirdly yummy shrimp and coconut dish, then returned to the hotel to pack up and sleep before our flight in the morning to our next destination: Havana!

Pictures coming in a separate post!

[kileygoestobschool-blog]

Spicing Things Up a Bit, or, That Time I Got Emergency Oral Surgery

So, remember how in the last post I was regaling you with tales of how boring my life was? How I spent my weeks interviewing perspective students and going to classes on the side? Well, clearly the universe was stricken by the mundanity of my schedule, so it went to work shaking things up a bit. Since my birthday, things have gotten slightly more…eventful.

After being back in Hanover for a few weeks after my birthday, I traveled down to Boston to meet up with Jon for a weekend of events. Saturday night we celebrated the 18th anniversary of his high school at a gorgeous event in downtown Boston, and Sunday we headed to the nearby town of Sharon for the wedding of one of Jon’s oldest friends (not in that she’s actually old, but more that they’ve been friends for a long time. I am just now realizing how weird that saying is.). In fact, apparently Jon and she were quite the little couple growing up; several people alluded to their “Cory and Topanga” status (if this Boy Meets World reference is lost on you, I’m sorry. Not for using it, but for the fact that you didn’t watch Boy Meets World.). I kept my jealousy reigned in, of course, no need to make a scene at her wedding, after all.

ANYWAY. After the wedding on Sunday night, I woke up bright and early Monday to drop Jon at the airport and then continued driving back up to Hanover. Throughout the weekend, I’d had some minor tooth pain, but nothing a few glasses of wine hadn’t fixed, so by Monday morning I had mostly forgotten about it. By Monday afternoon, though, it was back, and by Tuesday morning I could barely open my mouth. By Tuesday evening I was closing in on lock jaw and couldn’t speak clearly, so I figured it was time to go to the dentist, despite not having dental insurance, which should tell you something (I’m saying I’m cheap, people). The dentist took one look at my mouth and informed me (in her very heavy Russian accent) that I would need surgery immediately (you do not disagree with a Russian dentist). The big caveat? Wherever I had the surgery, I would need to be in the area for two weeks to ensure access to the surgeon should there be any post-operative infections, issues, etc. With only eight days left in the term, and no plans to stay in any one place for more than a week after that, I suddenly found myself in a bit of a logistical nightmare (I know, traveling as much as I do is a real pain). Clearly I would need to figure out some way to get immediate access to a surgeon in a place where I could convalesce for two weeks, and preferably not go through the process alone. Oh, and I had to do all of this while under the influence of enough painkillers to make an elephant dance the hula.

Within six hours, I had a new ticket to D.C. leaving first thing the next morning, an appointment with a surgeon that afternoon. I’d emailed my teachers letting them know I would be missing the last week of classes, and had found substitutes for the interviews I was scheduled to conduct over the next few days. Best of all? Sue, in her sainthood, had also booked a ticket to D.C., and would arrive around the same time as me. We found an AirBnb near the surgeon’s office, and I got to work packing not only for my time in D.C., but for the following six weeks as well, as I wouldn’t return to Hanover until January. Fun!

After a consultation on Thursday afternoon, I was booked for surgery first thing Friday morning. The surgery itself couldn’t have gone more smoothly, especially considering my body’s preference for losing consciousness as soon as someone even says the word “blood”. For the rest of the weekend, I was pretty immobile on the couch, eating baby food, popping painkillers, and generally being spoiled beyond belief by my incredible mother.

Another fun fact from the weekend: while Sue was more than happy to jump on a plane at the drop of a hat to take care of me (or so she insists), she did make a point of mentioning how ironic it would be if Sara went into labor while Sue was out of town. “Hogwash! Not a chance!” I insisted; Sara wasn’t due for two and half weeks, after all.

Well, turns out I’m not actually an Ob-Gyn, and Sue’s absurd concern wasn’t so absurd after all. Sara’s water broke Friday night, and a beautiful (albeit a bit wrinkly) Connor Gabriel Winsnes was born Sunday morning while Grandma Sue (oh yeah, she looooves that) was across the country taking care of me. Sorry, Connor, my bad.

Sue changed her flight to head back to Seattle a bit early, and Jon stepped in as caretaker. I moved from our Airbnb to Jon’s apartment mid-week, and by Friday I was feeling almost completely back to normal. Good timing, too, as it was the beginning of Jon’s birthday weekend, and three of his best friends were coming to D.C. to celebrate.

After a fun weekend of delicious meals and pretending Jon was 21 instead of 30, Jon’s friends headed home, and he and I picked up a rental car to begin our drive north to Boston, where we would celebrate Thanksgiving with his family. Along the way, we stopped in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, where I had booked a hotel that seemed a lot cooler online (can’t win ‘em all, I guess). At the hotel, I presented Jon with his gift, a book of letters collected from people from many different phases of Jon’s life. He loved it, and spent the afternoon reading with completely dry eyes (false. He was sobbing.). Later, we headed into town for some delicious tapas, then settled in at a hotel bar to catch part of the Patriot’s game.

Early the next morning we were back on the road toward Boston. After six hours and a miraculous avoidance of a freeway pile-up, we made it. The next morning we were up at 5:30am in order to get to the grocery store the minute it opened at 6am (I wasn’t about to repeat my experience at Costco the day before Thanksgiving last year, thank you very much). We did some serious Supermarket Spree work, and spent the rest of the day relaxing. Thanksgiving itself was a great success; we started with a 5k Turkey Trot with the rest of the family, then returned home to cook (and shower, don’t worry). Dinner was absolutely delicious, and was book-ended by a short, two-hand touch (it quickly escalated) football game and an elaborately planned (“second annual”) ping pong tournament. The rest of the weekend was spent attempting to finish leftovers, watching football, and generally being luxuriously lazy.

Monday morning we were up early once again to catch flights, Jon to D.C. and me to Seattle. Jon is finishing up classes over the next few weeks, while I head off with Sue and Fredrik on our next great adventure. Stay tuned for updates from our trip to Colombia, Cuba, and Panama!

Picture time!

Chipmunk status. And yes, it is taking a ridiculous amount of self-restraint not to remove this photo. I actually have no idea why I’m including it. 

Apparently, I am the aunt of this gorgeous little creature. Prepare to be spoiled, little dude. 

Late-night pizza after birthday celebrations. I.e. the most romantic picture of Jon and I to date. 

Happy Birthday, Jon!

Turkey Trot with Jon’s family!

[kileygoestobschool-blog]

What I Do These Days, or, Interviews, Trips, and Some Classes on the Side

Well, I promised Katrina I would write a new post ~3 weeks ago, so, ya know, now seems like a good time.

Somehow we’re already past the halfway point of the fall term, with three more weeks until “winter” break, which lasts a borderline-embarrassingly long time. So before we go back into travel-writing mode, a quick update on what the heck I’ve been doing this term.

So far, second year has been decidedly different than first. I spent a significant portion of my time (~15-20 hours a week) interviewing prospective Tuck students, a job I’ve really enjoyed so far. I spend about 30-45 minutes with each candidate hearing about their backgrounds, hopes, dreams, aspirations, musings, concerns, questions (no, I’m not getting my PhD in psychology, but in retrospect…). It’s especially interesting for me to reflect back on two years ago, when I was in their seat, nervously answering questions about why I wanted an MBA (“um, it’s a good degree?”) and why Tuck was the right choice for me (“I’m from Seattle, so I really like trees.”). If anything, it’s opened my eyes to how little I actually knew about the path I was embarking on, and how hard it is to really get a sense for the MBA experience as a prospective student. You can do all the googling and conduct all the informational interviews you want, but, in my case at least, this time is kind of like an open-heart surgery: you really don’t know how you’ll react until they’ve already broken out the bone saw. (Graphic? Sorry. On a bit of a health care kick recently.)

So, interviewing has been great, it’s kept me busy interacting with interesting and ambitious people, given me a great opportunity to reflect more on my decision to attend Tuck, and (probably, though it hasn’t be tested yet) made me more comfortable as an interviewee as well.

Oh, I also go to class. Yep! Still in school. My schedule this term has been pretty light (on purpose to allow time for interviewing and visiting Jon, and because there are more classes in the next few terms that interest me), and unique in that my classes are actually in the evenings. Instead of the usual 90-minute, twice-a-week schedule, these classes are three hours long and meet only once a week. I’ve enjoyed this cadence a lot, and been pretty spoiled by it—returning to a heavier one next term could be a bit of an adjustment (yes, please do keep me in your thoughts, thank you so much.).

Of course, I don’t go to class that much, because, business school. So last week, after four continuous weeks of classes (oof!), we had our fall “recruiting” break (the quotations are for me, because I’m not recruiting yet. For others it was legitimately a break from classes so they could interview. My classmates are hardworking people, people.). Since I’m hoping to get a job in a less traditional field (health technology), my recruiting schedule will pick up in the new year, so this break was a great chance for me to head down to D.C. to visit Jon and remember what warmth feels like (yep, it’s already cold here, cue the whiney posts.). Jon was smack in the middle of midterms (his other school is a real school, it’s weird), but he still managed to make time for some delicious meals and fun outings around the city. Most notable was an early birthday celebration, for which Jon surprised me with a happy hour from the best viewpoint in DC (pictures below, of course), an incredible dinner and delicious cocktails at Firefly (there’s a tree inside the restaurant!), and an elaborate, hilarious, and wonderful gift, including a “day of birth” narrative approximating what Sue and Fredrik likely went through all those years ago on October 29th.

Back in Hanover we have a few more weeks of classes, during which I’ll be picking up the pace on recruiting (I suppose I’ll need a job one day) and continuing interviews with prospective students. We’ll finish up exams (yes, sometimes we have those) the week before Thanksgiving, and I’ll head back to D.C. to celebrate Jon’s big 3-0 before driving up to Boston for Turkey Day with his family, then flying to Seattle to meet up with Sue and Fredrik before we embark on our big trip to Colombia, Panama, and Cuba (what? You didn’t think I’d be staying put for more than a month, did you??).

And now, pictures!

Oh yeah! Jon came to visit and we went apple-picking!

Hanover in full Fall mode!

D.C. is not too shabby

Grainy night-time picture in front of the White House

Birthday stop one: happy hour at the W Washington D.C.

View from the W rooftop at sunset.

Birthday stop two: dinner at Firefly. 

Birthday stop three: back home, the aftermath of a wonderful and elaborate gift.

[kileygoestobschool-blog]

The Rest of My Summer, or, How I Spent Two Months Hopping Between Awesome Cities

I’ve avoided writing this post because I thought to myself, “hmm, a review of the rest of your summer will be boring. There aren’t very many things you could make jokes about…it’s basically just a recap of awesome time with your family. People don’t want to read that crap.”

But then I remembered, “hey! It’s MY blog. I can bore people as much as I want!”

So here we are.

The second half of the summer. Whoa. It already seems like a year ago I left Boston for the second half of my internship in San Francisco. I spent three weeks living in a sublet in Oakland, commuting to the city (no, not New York. We Bay Area-ers know what people really mean when they say “the city”) to work for the same company, helping them prepare to launch in San Francisco. The work was interesting, but living so far away from SF meant I had no time to really experience the city I remembered or see my friends. So, despite my love affair with SF, I was ready to go by the time three-week stint ended.

Before I left, though, I did get to spend a few days in the city. My sublease ended mid-week, and Jon was coming to visit for my last few days, so I found us an AirBnb in San Francisco. While I worked, Jon enjoyed a virtual walking tour I concocted for him on his first day, taking in all the touristy spots. The next day, we did the “Hopper’s Hands” run, one of my favorites from when I lived in SF, tasted some wines at Bluxome Street Winery, drank some more wine while lying in the grass at Dolores Park, drank some Pisco at Destino, then ordered—but failed to drink—martinis at Martuni’s piano bar (yes, apparently even we have our limits). The next day I showed Jon my old neighborhood and we walked the city in search of gifts for Sue before flying up to Seattle that night.

The next two weeks were split between Seattle and Portland, where Katrina recently became a resident in an adorable new house. We had a family reunion of sorts there, with Bob, Kimi, and Kate flying out from Chicago, and Carsten and Sara driving down from Seattle. Jon also joined for a few days, though his trip down from Seattle wasn’t as smooth as one might hope for (and by that I mean he was rear-ended by a large truck while driving a car that belongs to my parents. Yeah. That kind of “not smooth”.) In Portland we visited the Rose Garden, ate some delicious ice cream, and discovered my new favorite coffee shop in…the Pacific Northwest? The world? Blue Kangaroo. The Cubano Latte. Seriously, people, this thing is a coffee gamechanger.

After Seattle Jon and I flew back to the East coast, where we spent an amazingly relaxing few days with his family on Cape Cod. We rode bikes, played game, read by the lake, and generally did nothing of substance in the best way possible. The next week, I was back on a plane to Chicago to meet up with Sue, see Bob, Kimi, and Kate, and visit Nana and Bompa.

After my week in Chicago/Ridgeway, I flew out to DC to visit Jon, who had started back at school (sucker). To explain (read: brag): Jon is an overachiever and is earning two degrees—his MBA and a Masters of Arts in International Development/International Economics—so before coming to Tuck, he spent a year at Johns Hopkins in DC, then a year at Tuck, and now, in his third year, is spending his fall term back at Johns Hopkins before returning to Tuck to finish out the year (confusing enough for you?). So, long explanation short: Jon is going to school in DC until January, and I went to visit him.

The week in DC was awesome. We ate AMAZING food, the highlight of which was probably our dinner at Zaytinya, a Mediterranean restaurant in DC’s downtown area. The restaurant itself is large and airy—almost warehousey (yep, made that word up)—but every dish was more delicious that the last. Highly recommend it to anyone traveling to DC. (in other news, I apparently now write a food blog.)

After DC, even I could no longer delay the inevitable: it was time to head back to school. I needed to be in Hanover for a training (“How to interview prospective Tuck students”) a few days before classes started, so I spent the weekend unpacking, building furniture, and generally trying to get my life in order.

And that brings me to today, back in Hanover, interviewing prospective students, taking classes (oh yeah, I do that, too), and spending the rest of my time trying to find myself a job for after school. The exciting news about that? I’m only looking in Seattle—Jon and I will be heading there after graduation next year, assuming we can secure jobs, that is : )

Now, pictures!!

A little blondie reunion in SF

Running my favorite route, Hopper’s Hands

A GORGEOUS sunrise run in Portland with Katrina!

Family visit to Portland’s Japanese Gardens

Another sweaty run, this time in DC to see good ol’ Abe.

Family dinner in Portland. Kate agreed the meal was top notch.

Gum wall at Pike Place Market. Jon was not impressed.

Cape Cod!

Pretty much one of my favorite photos of all time. 

[kileygoestobschool-blog]

Boston (cont’d), or, America! (and temper tantrums)

Aaaand we’re back. In my mind, you have been staring at your screen, angrily pounding on your cursor to refresh the page and muttering, quietly but angrily, “but what happened the FOURTH week?!” I don’t blame you, imaginary obsessive reader, I really did leave you in the lurch back there, didn’t I?

 Week 4:

Week highlights: apparently my company’s founders are hippies, because we had June 22nd—i.e. the Summer Solstice—off, presumably so we could celebrate nature and worship the sun, or something. Instead, I spent the day worshiping my pillow, as any sane person with a random Monday off of work would. Tuesday we were treated to SWEET tickets by Nell (the most effortlessly hilarious human I’ve ever met). Friday we were at Jon’s parents for an astoundingly delicious (actually, it wasn’t that astounding. Everything we eat at the Elkin’s is delicious. But who doesn’t love the inappropriately used hyperbole every once in a while??) Shabbat dinner, then jetted (actually, we drove, but apparently I’m in my misnomer phase right now) off to the train station to fetch Lucy, my lovely and stylish and storytelling friend from my undergrad study abroad program.

Weekend highlights: with Lucy in town, the weekend was—as expected—full of the usual touristy activities. We walked. A lot. Saw Fanieul Hall (not, apparently, “Nathaniel Hall,” as I had been calling it since…well, forever.), wandered around the adorable Beacon Hill neighborhood, stopped for a few (lie.) beverages, then met up with Tuck friends for dinner. Pre-dinner we had been full of the grandest plans: we would go out, we would drink, we would dance, we would be young and we would LIVE. Post-dinner, we hobbled our overstuffed bellies into the nearby Modern Pastry to stuff them even further, then—on our way to being youthful and fun and dancing the night away—while waiting for the light to change on a raining Boston street corner, a car passed at juuuust the right speed and juuuuust the right distance from the curb to catch a giant puddle and redistribute every. Single. Drop. Of it onto Lucy and I. Nothing quite says “buzz kill” like being drenched in Boston street water. New plan: sit in a warm bar until one of us gets up the nerve to say, “ummm, do you guys maybe just….want to go home?” Sunday we had breakfast at “The Breakfast Club” (clever, right?), then drove to Newton, where Lucy’s dad was born, to take awkward photos of her standing in front of his childhood homes hoping the current owners didn’t come out and yell at us. After, Jon and I dropped Lucy at the train station, then returned home for an outstandingly productive day of watching every episode of the Netflix series “Happy Valley” aka “The World’s Darkest British Crime Show”.

We saw little kids sitting on duck statues. This seemed the only appropriate next step.

Beacon Hill: not ugly.

Our super romantic lady date to Modern Pastry.  

Week 5:

Week highlights: pizza and candlepin bowling (I know, I hadn’t heard of it either. So retro. So hip.) at an awesomely unique (albeit over-airconditioned) place in Davis Square called “Flatbread Company”.

Weekend highlights: it was America’s birthday, which we planned to celebrate in the most appropriate way possible: with beer and grilled meat. Thursday after work we drove my car back to Hanover for storage, then spent the night at Robin’s (because he’s the most generous man in the world) before getting back on the road Friday morning to Augusta, Maine. We stopped on the way to pick up groceries for the group, which ended up being, quite possible, the single most stressful event of my life (and no, this does not bode well for when I have children). The store itself had one of those frustratingly illogical layouts where nothing is where it should be. Add to that the 10,000 other people who decided that Friday mid-morning was the IDEAL time to shop for the holiday weekend, as well as the 300 store employees who were seemingly everywhere with their massive stocking carts in an (unsuccessful, though admittedly valiant) attempt to keep up with the ridiculous demand. I was already having one of my adult “I need food NOW” temper tantrums, so my blood sugar was in no place to deal with this level of fiasco. What resulted was behavior that I am not proud of (yes, there were tears), but that made for a great test of Jon’s (mostly) unflappable patience. We survived, escaped, and discovered what became the single vindicating part of the experience: the most delicious egg sandwiches on homemade biscuits (BISCUITS!) across the street at a tiny roadside coffee shop called St. Joe’s. Saintly, indeed (sorry, I just…I had to.). The rest of the weekend was fantastic. We generally did what our forefathers clearly envisioned all those years ago: relaxed, swam, invented yard games with milk jugs and a foam football, grilled, and drank a whole lot of beer.

 Sunset from the dock in Sidney, Maine. America was clearly in the bragging mood on her birthday. 

This week (Week 6 for those of you counting) is my last in Boston. Next week I jet (literally, for once) off to San Francisco, where I’ll spend the next three weeks working for the same company as we prepare for our launch in San Francisco.

 -k.

[kileygoestobschool-blog]

A Harsh Return to the Real World, or, My First Month in Boston

It’s officially the first day of July (and by “officially” I mean, “according to my computer’s calendar”). Cue my wondering what, exactly, I even did with the past month. Wasn’t it just June 1st? Wasn’t I just beginning my internship? It sure feels that way; but I’m old enough now to know that, for the most part, time passes in funny, funny ways. It might feel like it’s been 30 seconds since my last post (more likely feels like 30 years, amiright?) on June 1st, but alas, that is not the case. In fact, it’s been four exciting and educational weeks:

 Week 1:

Week highlights: Started my internship (more on this later) and moved into our sublet in Davis Square in Somerville, just North of Cambridge

Weekend highlights: Apparently, in the real world, you only get TWO days for your weekends. This was a very jarring wake-up call from the dream life that is Tuck (did I mention I had five-day weekends for a while there? Ha!) So, after an entire FIVE DAYS of working (ridiculous, borderline inhumane), Jon and I met up Friday evening at Christopher’s in Porter Square for drinks, and food, and more drinks. Eventually we wandered next door to a bar called The Toad, where a local blue grass band was playing. We made it through about four songs before I was basically falling asleep on Jon’s shoulder (I had just worked for FIVE DAYS STRAIGHT, people, I was exhausted!), so we headed home for some much-deserved sleep. Saturday morning we discovered our now go-to breakfast place, Renee’s (thanks for the rec, Robin!), and our now go-to omelet combination: sweet potatoes, caramelized onions, and avocado (don’t you dare judge it until you’ve tried it, and when you do try it: you’re welcome). After a few hours of digestion, we explored the running path next to our apartment, watched a hockey game at a sports bar in the North End (Boston’s Little Italy), and met friends for a delicious Italian dinner. Sunday was for settling in: we ran errands, made dinner at home, and watched the NBA finals from the living room floor (new apartment = no couch, but Jon was very resourceful in building us a makeshift one. Kind of).

Renee’s. Best breakfast in Somerville.

Week 2:

Week highlights: Week two marked my company’s start to its “Work from Home Wednesdays” policy (so much for that whole “five days straight” thing), which meant I spent Wednesday morning working and Wednesday afternoon riding my bike on the awesome bike path by our house (I seriously think it goes to, like, Maine. Or at least to the next town over). I also found myself a CrossFit gym nearby, so I’m finally back at it: lifting heavy things and putting them back down again. It’s the best.

Weekend highlights: Friday we were hosted by one of Jon’s childhood friends and his wife for a ridiculously delicious Shabbat dinner. Saturday we drove north to Gloucester, where we discovered the breakfast place to beat all breakfast places: Sugar Magnolia’s. Gloucester itself is an adorable little waterfront town with a quaint, tree-covered main street lined with local shops and restaurants, including Sugar Magnolia’s. We gorged ourselves on goat cheese omelets and—you might want to get a napkin to wipe the drool that’s about to be on your face—Crazy Monkey French Toast. It was out-of-control good. From Gloucester we continued our drive up to Rockport, where Jon instantly fell in love (with the place, people). I’d had several people recommend a daytrip there, and it was quickly clear why: the place is straight out of a postcard. A small harbor full of sail boats surrounded by a curving peninsula full of Cape-style houses lining tiny, pedestrian-only streets. Adorable.  

Rockport. Not too shabby.

Gloucester!

Sunday we had tickets to a Red Sox game, so we headed down to Fenway (after sweet potato omelets at Renee’s, obviously) and I bought myself a hat so Bostonians wouldn’t glare at me (or kill me. Seriously, these Sox fans are kind of scary). The Sox lost pretty badly but the weather was gorgeous, and I’ll never complain about sitting in the sun drinking beer on a summer day (never!). After the game we headed to Jon’s parents’ for a BBQ dinner, then home to bed (because in the real world, you actually have to wake up for work on Monday mornings).

Sox game!

Week 3:

Week highlights: NBA finals game six and seeing Annie (sister-in-law) in Cambridge.

Weekend highlights: Friday afternoon we headed to Newton for Shabbat at the Elk Inn, where we stayed for the night and for breakfast on Saturday. Jon and I ran a bit around Newton (the Boston Marathon route is nearby. I.e. I basically ran the Boston Marathon. Or, ya know, three miles of it. Details.), then met up with friends in Central Square for dinner at an Eritrean restaurant. Jon prepared me for the meal by telling me I “might not actually like it that much,” so I was super excited for the meal (sarcasm). Turns out, he was wrong (it’s food, people, of course I liked it), and I actually really liked it. After dinner we went to an Improv show nearby. I had prepared Jon for the show by telling him he “might not actually like it that much,” but turns out he wasn’t the only one who was wrong that night. Sunday was pretty low-key: I got to Skype with Sue and Fredrik on their European adventures, we saw the new Pixar movie, “Inside Out” (spoiler: bring tissues. A LOT of tissues), and had absurdly delicious Sushi at Genki Ya (working theory: the best sushi is found in strip malls).

Technically, there’s another full week I could tell you about, but I just scrolled up on this entry and realized I’ve channeled Charles Dickens. So, in the spirit of saving your vision and giving you your life back, I’ll save the rest for another time.

Happy Independence Day!

-k.

Pictures!

[kileygoestobschool-blog]

That time I was halfway done with my MBA

That’s a wrap, folks.

Okay, fine, it’s…half a wrap. But it is official: I’m done with my first year of Tuck. I know saying things like “I can’t believe it!” or “The time really flew!” are about as cliché as it gets, but seriously, people, this year was a Boeing Dreamliner and I am sitting here awe-struck.

It’s almost as cliché to do some sort of look back, to reflect on the “lessons learned” from this year, but as I’ve already made pretty clear: clichés are kind of my jam right now. So here we go: a few takeaways from year one of my MBA.

  4.     Choosing the right length of program is important:

This is something I’ve been thinking about for the past couple of months, a question that really surprised me when it arose: is a second year really necessary? Looking back on my admissions process, I didn’t even consider one-year programs. In all honesty, I kind of considered them…sub-par. I’ve always thought of the MBA as a two-year degree, and doing it in one year seemed like a cop-out. Not to mention, at the time, a huge factor in my decision was getting out of the working world for a while, and two years sounded approximately 200x better than one year (that’s MBA math, folks). But as I approached the end of year one of Tuck, I couldn’t help but wonder: do I need another year? Honestly, I don’t know if I have an answer yet. As classes were wrapping up, I thought it was a pretty strong “no”. Now that I’ve been away from school for a few weeks and am back in the working world, I’m closer to “yes”. What I do know for sure: it’s an important, and personal, factor in the MBA decision, worth serious consideration.

3.     I was more prepared than I expected:

Coming to Tuck, I basically imagined I would be ten years younger than everyone (yes, I know the average age of my classmates. No, this did not deter my irrational paranoia, thank you very much.), would be completely lost every time I stepped into a classroom, would feel incredibly intimidated by my classmates’ resumes, and would basically just feel like I’d somehow snuck my way into Tuck. The truth? Academically, I was just fine. In fact, not to toot my own horn (weird, weird saying, by the way), but I was more than just fine. I felt comfortable in all of my classes and even felt quite familiar with some of the topics we covered. I was pleasantly surprised by the strength of my undergrad program (props, Santa Clara) and its business curriculum. That being said, there were definitely times when I was completely overwhelmed by an assignment, and relied heavily (okay, completely) on my study group. And there were definitely times (read: all the time) when I felt intimidated by my classmates’ resumes. But hey, they’re just that impressive. And trust me, it’s much better than going to school with people whose backgrounds don’t blow your socks off (I’m full of fun axioms today!).  

2.     The real challenges weren’t academic:

The hardest part of this year, by far, was the time outside of the classroom. Leaving the life I’d built in SF, being 3,000 miles away from friends and family; trying to balance my own preferences with the perceived social norms of Tuck life; figuring out it’s not the end of the world not to go to that party; realizing it’s also not the end of the world not to be best friends with everyone. I’ve come to see that Tuck is about as easy as a moss-covered rolling log when it comes to finding a balance, but attempting to do so is a lesson in itself, one I’m sure I’ll continue to struggle with through second year, but also one I think will be defining in my overall MBA experience.

1.     The true learning wasn’t academic, either:

The topic I learned about most this year? Nope, not Excel (seriously good guess, though. I’ll put that at #2). #1 for me—and I’d venture to guess for just about every one of my classmates—was myself. The intensity of an immersive program like Tuck, paired with the small size and strong culture, makes for an incredibly self-reflective experience. Just getting through the year requires a level of self-awareness and thought that’s easy to avoid in the “real world”. Questions we mostly don’t have to (or choose not to) face as adults are constant: “What are my priorities? Am I spending my time in a way that reflects those priorities? What kind of people do I like to surround myself with? What do I hope to do immediately after school? What do I hope to do 10 years from now? What attracts me that career path? Is that dream in line with the priorities I’ve outlined?” That level of mental dialogue is exhausting, and can make the whole experience feel a bit heavy, but that kind of self-learning is also the greatest gift we’ll get from this time. Making the effort to remind myself how unique it is, and embracing rather than avoiding it, is, in my humble opinion, the hardest lesson Tuck will teach me.

There are so many more lessons I could probably think of, but I’m kind of tired and you’re probably really tired (of reading, because this entry got out of hand FAST). Maybe I’ll regale you later on with a second entry (I know, almost too much anticipation to handle, right?!).

And now I’m sure you’re wondering (you are almost definitely not wondering anything, except if this post will end soon): if school is over for the year, what comes next? And for you, dear, dear, curious reader, a quick rundown of my next three months:

           June 1-July 12(ish): Interning in Boston

           July 12(ish) – August 9: Interning in SF (same company)

           August 9 – August 15: Interning remotely from Seattle (same company)

           August 15 – August 21: Hanging with the fam in Seattle

           August 22 – August 25: Vacation on the Cape (I’m so east coast now)

           August 26 – September 4: Hanging with the fam in Chicago

           September 4 – September 9: Visiting Jon in D.C.

           September 10: Back to Hanover

 Oof. I’m kind of overwhelmed just looking at that. And by “overwhelmed” I mean “bouncing up and down in my seat with excitement.” Summers don’t get much better than this. I’ll keep you posted along the way : )