"Flying By." July, 2015; Leaving Antwerp, Belgium

They always say that life flies by when you’re young, when you’re having fun, when you’re not paying attention; so the idioms carry on. What might surprise this third person plural entity to which we give so much power over our behavior, is that time also flies by when you put your nose to the ground and work tirelessly toward a goal that is so very close to heart.

All four family members
gathered for the first family
photo since the divorce.

After five intensive years of my Bachelor career to earn two degrees -one B.Sc. and one B.A.- working two jobs simultaneously to pay for them, studying abroad for three semesters, and taking two summers of extra classes, I thought I had clearly understood the definition of exhausting yet rewarding ambition. I was wrong. There was still that itch for something greater, something which I had not yet uncovered, that I had to do. I had countless meetings with advisors and respected professors at the University of Northern Colorado as well as career mentors with whom I had associated along the way; this led to a clearer idea of the field to which I felt called: international, cross-cultural, innovative, and strategic management implementation. The problem was, none of these professionals nor myself had the faintest idea of what this actually could mean, but we had a tracing of a path that might lead to this Bermuda triangle into which I would quickly yet not quietly disappear. Rather than desperately job-seeking in the trenches alongside all my fellow colleagues following our basic qualification of a diploma, that path etched out the idea of a graduate degree. Abroad. I knew that if I wanted a career to stretch across the borders of the United States of America and the united countries of Europe, then I would need to stretch my accredited education as well. The perks of that include a new adventure and a slightly more affordable tuition bill. Tireless hours of searching and applications led to a full calendar of interviews and deadlines during a pressured final semester at UNC, but it was all worth it when the Antwerp Management School said yes. AMS was my top choice in European universities for its location in Western Europe, AACSB and European accreditation so that I could repatriate when and if need be, and a clearly outlined leadership development track. It was in Belgium, which was a land in which I had not yet in my life set foot. Not only that, but I accepted and moved there (after painstakingly following toilsome visa documentation procedures) without knowing a single soul within the Belgian borders.

How’s that for a sense of adventure?

The Ferris Wheel at Antwerp Central
Station made for an astounding welcome.

So here I am, 10 months after I began lectures at AMS. I just completed the most difficult year of my life financially, academically, relationally, and mentally. The laudable news is, this challenge has shaped me in ways I am still struggling to comprehend. I have two new, incredible best friends from Belgium who invest fully in my life and future. I have an outstanding long-distance relationship that we have managed to build to extraordinary heights over the last four years. I have visited so many new places and deepened my understanding of the French and Germans languages, as well as added some basic understanding of Flemish. Not only that,

Antwerp's MAAS area made a great place
to picnic and bike-ride with my new friends.

 but after applying thoroughly for 35 positions, I was invited to join the team of an inconceivably amazing firm which just so happens to be my dream job, a dream which shaped itself over the last several years. Needless to say, my life flew by this year. It wasn’t because I was too young, because I was having too much fun, or because I wasn’t paying attention. It was a combination of being young and ambitious, having a life-changing experience, and working to the constant best of my abilities in order to achieve unbelievable heights in my personal life story and my career.

Voted Vice President of the Student Council,
I was honored to share the graduation speech.

Idiomatic expression or not, what comes next will be one for the history books. 

Unterwegs. Journey home. July 25th, 2013

Flying back to the US; feels so surreal

As I watch the tiny icon of an airplane inch its way west across the virtual Atlantic on the screen in front of me, I can feel each inch as it tugs me farther away from the German borders to which I have become so accustomed. Each time the friendly, multilingual staff drops by my row, the words that slip off my tongue have defaulted to Germanic tendencies despite the Anglican fluency of all those around me. Preferential, you might say. Flight after flight, checkpoint by checkpoint, I cross the point of no return, or do I? My heart is unable to adjust in such tumultuous situations as it is beckoned in many tongues from many lands; how can it find method of settling if I have no solid plan, no final destination as of yet? Denver. That's where I'll start. Then what? I have two final semesters of my double bachelor's degree at the University of Northern Colorado that will be complemented by workshops, conferences, visits to my family, rebuilding my harp callouses and desperately seeking both franco and germanophones to keep the polyglot, that is multilingual, version of myself adrift.

Managing to take root on rock
(Mallorca, July, 2013)

A word of my own language struck me today as I mindlessly glanced at the episode of the Big Bang Theory playing on the airline's entertainment program: Roots. I picture a tree, a flower, a tracing of origin to that which fed and built you. Trees grow, harbor life, shelter life, give life, but they do not move except when adjusting to wind patterns and changing climate. Flowers can be moved, picked, transplanted just as a tree. Traditional doctrine teaches us that roots are the beginning, the foundation, the lifeline, the nourishment. Can we ever change our roots? Can we take them with us or will we always leave some piece of us, some straggler of a memory or life behind in the ground from whence we came? Pardon the extended metaphor, but I feel completely uprooted and am also contemplating the notion of searching for a new garden.

Counting Down to Change

My time is wearing thin; I'm not saying that I'm starting to feel wrinkly, but rather as if I've hit a wrinkle in time. I just purchased my return ticket, one-way, to the United States of America. I'd like to say that I am “headed home” in July, but that words tastes funny on my now tri-lingual tongue. My father is living in a new house, my mother is about to move into her new house, I will return to a new apartment and my brother will probably not even be in the same country next year. What does this mean? To attempt an explanation: home is beginning to take on a German accent.

I have now hit my 13 month mark of living in Germany and thus the ideas of home are naturally starting to reverse themselves. Now, the countdown begins. 43 days. The sheer amount of accumulated material possessions is starting to weigh me down kilo by airline approved kilo. The stretched distance of the Atlantic ocean that will stand between my love and I seems to lose every echo I curse at it. I have stacks of maps, postcards, and brochures filed as neatly as a haystack might be. My poor hard-drive is overloaded with smiling photos and my suitcase is giving me a sneer rather than the usual wink. What is happening here? 43 days.

Challenge becomes my comfort zone
(Groningen, the Netherlands)

No exaggeration, I am sitting in my warm kitchen with the rain tapping the window and a glass of Rot Wein (red wine) beside my computer while the smells of fresh herbs wafting from my window garden are teasing my senses as I write this. Today, I chatted with my roommate in German, invented a new dish, had a fresh pretzel from the baker by school and received my daily nod and wave from the silent man who lives above his shoemaker shop on the corner. I feel as if my cup is not only full but brimming with happiness and opportunity. Though the US is often nicknamed the “Land of Opportunity,” I feel as if my heart is calling me to dwell on different shores.

The sun sets over the snowy gardens
during Christmastime in Oldenburg, Germany

Admittedly, my parents' reactions to this realization are not what I expected; they seem to look forward to the European trips they can now justify but are fairly quiet as to their own emotions about me being so far away. Perhaps they realized a long time ago that I had a different calling. Perhaps they're keeping their true emotions to themselves in order to let me be individually inspired and jump out of the proverbial nest as far as my international wings will carry me. I must admit that I fear being so far away from them, being so far removed from familial relations, holidays and laughter. This life is most definitely not what I had expected, but it fills me with excitement everyday that my eyes settle on a German sunset (sunrises are often missed by my sleeping-in eyes).

Alas, this journey I've chosen shall not be an easy one. Two final semesters in the US will mark the greatest decision-making time that my 23 years of life will have seen. 43 days.

Finding peace in Freiberg am Neckar, Germany

 

Student Budget-Worthy Adventures: Bike Tour

My Italian friend Radiana and I
enjoying the beautiful countryside

There are many advantages to being a student. I'm not talking about free pizza on campus or the world's permission to shirk reality's responsibility for 4 consecutive years, but rather about the ability to sniff out adventure on a dime. As a student, I have backpacked sans-electronics through eastern Europe purely on the direction and charades of locals who have only learned English by watching undubbed episodes of Walker Texas Ranger. I've had homemade wine with some friendly Ukrainians while locked in our 10 euro shared flat in the Czech Republic while Neo-Natzi marches took place outside. I've had half-price, day old bread on the steps of churches in Italy and hitched a ride from a Greek and a Bosnian in search of a Master's degree in Germany. Life is certainly open for the taking if we only open our minds to it and jump right in. Cliché as that sounds, I've had more adventures than I can count and they keep pouring in.

Yesterday, my student budget and hunger for a new undertaking led me a sore “Popo,” (German slang for “bum”), a Vegetarian's nightmare and sand between my toes. Ladies and gentlemen, my first European Bike Tour. According to my rough sketches on Google maps, this journey with 8 Germanophones (German speakers) but 4 different passport origins took us approximately 22 kilometers (13.67 miles), over 3 hours through the hills and small cities, and to 3 sparkling lakes! In case you were wondering, the rocky descents to the lakes is where both the soreness and the sand came into play.

Sillyness by the seashore
(Otto-Maigler See)

Though we numbered only 6 at the end of our journey, we arrived at the home of a local friend of mine, Anna, and were warmly greeted by 7 hungry friends freshly arrived by car. For the next 6 hours, we feasted on all sorts of German delicacies in flesh, flour, potato and hops formats. While struggling to switch between French, German and English speaking, I made several new acquaintances and filled my belly to the brim. Unfortunately, these festivities went so late that I had missed the last train home and biking would've been madness. After my Swiss friend heroically tried to fit my giant bicycle into his not-so-giant vehicle, I ended up having a lovely 12 year old version of a slumber party with my hostess, chatting far into the wee hours of the morning until we both passed out mid-sentence.

Bike perspective of the wake-boarding
course at Bleibtreusee

How did this adventure hit my pocketbook? Free entrance to the lakes, free flowers in the fields, free sunshine, free laughter, 9€ for the 24 hour Deutsche Bahn Bike Rental and 4€ for food and beer pitch.

Needless to say, I crashed into my apartment this morning with a sleepy grin on my face, just 13€ ($16) absent from my wallet but incalculably richer in experience.

Our route as best I can estimate

-www.callabike-interaktiv.de
-Otto-Maigler See: They offer a cafe and white-sand beaches with volleyball courts
-Bleibtreusee: This lake has a massive wake-boarding course that resembles a ski lift on the water

-Liblarer See: Surrounded by beautiful forest, this lake is quite extensive and is perfect for a day in the water.

The city of love without my love: Valentine's Day 2013

Guess where we took this one!

February 14th, 2013
Paris, France


Imagine nestling lovebirds in cafe corners. Picture whispering couples hidden under rain splattered umbrellas. Envision dozens of men on one knee before the Eiffel Tower. Think of the rose petals scattering sidewalks, drifting giggles, gloved hands clasping. This is the city of amour on the day of amour; welcome to Valentine's Day in Paris.

I can't say that I didn't wish I was having a luxurious riverboat dinner, strolling down the brightly lit Champs-Elysee with roses and chocolate or nestled with a bottle of champagne and my honey with the rest of the lovebirds in Paris. I can't even say that it wasn't hard to be away from him on such a commercially and socially marked event. However, I can say that I am so absolutely, perfectly happy no matter where my globe-trotting toes carry me because my heart carries him, too. 

Taken next to Le Paris Plage in the 19th arrondissement

We recently discussed the future, as any couple with an eye on what's to come ought to do, and it evidently came as no surprise to my boyfriend that I wanted to travel for a few more years before settling down is allowed to cross my mind. In fact, it was Björn himself who encouraged me so highly to pursue graduate school and to constantly dream big. As I whispered my ideas for master's programs around the world, mentioned more than five countries on different continents, explained my vision for the future in the next ten years and commented how important my family is to me, he just nodded, held me tighter and kissed my forehead. I told him I don't want to be so far away from him, though admittedly neither of know what lands we might inhabit over the next few years. His response? “It will be so hard, I know that. But now that I know what it's like to be without you, I am willing to do whatever it takes to make this work.”


A tear slid down my cheek that day, the twin to the tear that slid today in Paris as I boarded yet another train to yet another adventure and his presence next to me is only imagined. Happy Valentine's Day, my love. I shall eat a macaroon in your honor.

Spotlight: Paris, Magical moments in magical places

The museum's exterior

February 13th, 2013
Paris, France
Though many inquiring travelers receive a high recommendation from me for the Musée d'Orsay, I have found something that finally has a fighting chance for the renowned position as my favorite place to be in Paris. Upon my 7th visit to the capital of France, this time accompanied by my German roommate Katrin, I chanced to meet a professor from Brno, Czech Republic who offered me several location recommendations concerning the educated mind of the wanderer. Due to the time constraint of our last day in the city of lights, we selected the one closest to the Gardens of Tuileries (les jardins de Tuileries) called L'Orangerie. Somehow I had never visited this gem of a building and it became the highlight of my Parisian rendez-vous this year. As I am technically a German student at the moment, all of my museum tickets were free since I showed my current, student ID and my German residence card; what a surprise bonus!

A group of ladies peers at the odd arrangement
in the gallery downstairs

There are two floors of this gallery and it is your whim's decision as to where you should start. However, I must spoil you and say that the basement is quite interesting with a collection of several, French artists (both male and female for a refreshing change) and the upstairs contains a breathtaking assortment of previously unseen, unprecedented magic. If that phrase alone doesn't entice your wanderlust, then you are certainly missing the point of my articles. As I entered the first of the two large, oval rooms, I most literally had my breath taken away by Monsieur Monet. Certainly, I have seen many lovely works by the master of impressionism, but the works before my eyes not only took me hours to absorb but had never, in print nor paint, crossed my eyes before. Each room holds four stunning, panorama paintings included in Monet's collection of waterlily works. As with most of Monet's masterpieces, the art critic has multiple perspectives to choose between (and shall repeatedly vary such perspectives before the work can be grasped in the least). The nature of the marriage between oil on canvas and impressionism provides you the up close and messy angle that is severely lacking in details or overall concept. The further removed from the paint one becomes, the clearer the image and the idea becomes. With the help of Monet's paintbrushes, palet choices and the museum's dedication to preservative lighting, the magic moved through the lilies more vibrantly than that to which I am accustomed. Simply said, allow at least an hour for this museum as it is quite prepared to inspire and calm you, granted that you lose yourself in the strokes and shadows for a sufficient amount of time.

Borrowed from Panoramio.org as photos were forbidden

“Musee de l'Orangerie” Metro station: La Concorde
Jardin Tuileries 75001 Paris
01 44 77 80 07
EU students: free!

Borrowing windows

If you have never lost yourself in staring through a train window in the countryside of Europe, you are surely missing out on a beautiful part of life. The more train windows I lose myself in, the more of myself I actually find. The Regional Trains of your university's state in Germany are included in your semester transportation ticket so I highly recommend jumping on one every few weeks to watch the countryside pass by; this is a spectacular time to process your time abroad, recall fond memories, and lay out the goals of your next months or years as a cultural explorer.

Gena and I at the Regiobahn (Regional Train)
(Bietigheim Bissingen, Germany)

There is by no means a limit to the things that can be accomplished on a train. I carry my computer, books, homework and even sometimes my art supplies so that I can fully benefit from the people and landscape surrounding me. Just a few moments ago, a dog wandered over to me and woke me up with a gentle poke with his nose; I had no idea that there was a dog on board, but he took it upon himself to curl up at my feet and beg for cuddles. The owner, just a seat away, apologized in German and attempted to reclaim her pooch, but he had other ideas. It was only after several moments of petting and cooing that I realized this sweet, gentle dog was maimed and only had one eye remaining. I then thought, how many people refuse him love just as we tend to shy away from those in the same conditions in the streets who approach us for help? This thought then caused me to turn my eyes to the window, my own desk of self-discovery, in order to roll the idea through my figurative fingers. How easily we ignore those in need who are just in front of us! How quickly we judge those who may not be as blessed or tended to as we are! This word, ignore, generally holds a negative connotation.

I often describe the German people as having their own path of concern and they will warm up to you if your path happens to cross theirs, but they rarely stray or break from this patten (as Germans tend to be fairly patterned people). In describing it this way, the negativity seems to break away. However, as I look around the seats surrounding me, I see 10 young people my age or younger, each and every one attached to some sort of electronic device and no socialization is taking place. Granted, it's midday on a Saturday and perhaps Friday took its festive toll on the naïve souls of the young, but I would expect more joy among such blessed adolescents! We have privileges coming out of our ears in Germany; the country, government and citizens have provided for every possible need imaginable except Ranch dressing, yet the people wander with somber or expressionless faces.

Flowering train tracks in the spring
(Hannover, Germany)

Someone on a local bus through the Czech Republic in summer 2011 pointed out to me that “the war wasn't that long ago for some people. If you had a look on your face, a smile, people thought you knew something. You could be put on a 'list' with your family and associates. Hide your thoughts and expressions; it's for safety!” Perhaps this is a similar sentiment for citizens of Germany? Perhaps I'm just accustomed to the sometimes shallow mask of customer service and friendliness that Americans wear (the “Hi! How are you?” without further inquiry)? Perhaps there is a cultural gap in addition to the history of Europe that drives this mystery deeper , but I sure feel like the most expressive person around here. I suppose, though, that I am starting to fit in and learn the values of contemplative silence as I borrow a window wherever I go.