Travels

Returned from Paris on Tuesday and left for Puerto Rico on Friday afternoon for the Labor Day weekend. Unfortunately, it was bad timing, it was the day of Hurricane Enrico (I think that is the name) which even though had calmed down could be felt in full force. For a moment, I was wondering what the hell had made us (Eric and I) choose such a day to go on vacation without checking the weather. I wasn't sure we were going to make it to PR safely.

My frustrations began to build as the turbulence caused by the hurricane became consistent, a little kid kept screaming in the plane, the guy sitting ten seats up decided to play reggaeton at the highest volume level, the kid behind me kept asking his mum the same questions about why we had to sit and the mum kicking behind my chair. With all this turmoil we landed safely at PR and just my luck, my suitcase did not come with the flight and apparently, had not even left Newark airport.

PR was different, it was interesting to see that due to it being colonized by the Americans, their infrastructure was excellent. The island was no different from home country Ghana. They had the same beaches maybe greener water, very little to show and have a history of being colonized. Their advantage was the easy access they had to the American market and the excellent infrastructure. Trust me, if my country had access to America the same way as PR, we would be so much further ahead, and if not, every single person would learn English and leave the next day for mainland USA.

The beaches and the food were excellent and the attractions were not too bad. Old San Juan was beautiful and our trip to the Bacardi factory was enlightening. Talk about excellent marketing, the Bacardi family had the right people doing the right stuff.

Anyhow, on the day of our return to New York, was the day, the Miss World who happened to be Ms. Puerto Rico was arriving. Catch this, PR is part of the US, but they present a different person for the Ms. World. The streets were lined with people waiting and waving, at cars in wait of the woman who had made their island / "country" famous, by being the most beautiful woman in the world according to a couple of judges. Come to think of it, none of these judges, have ever chosen a black woman as Ms. World in the so XX years of the existence of the Pageant.

However, the point I am trying to make is that, it made me think of my own return home that I was planning, there was no doubt in my mind that I was not going to see the whole country on the streets because I was a nobody and had returned with nothing. But rather, what would my homecoming mean to my family and my friends and how was I going to fit in again.

Road to Freedom

I finally gathered the courage to resign from my job. To celebrate prior to handing in my resignation letter, I decided to take a trip to Paris, France to see my friends. The friends who through my turmoil and suffering at work, had decided to stand by me and tolerate my grumpy self. I left for Paris at the end of August and had a wonderful time.

Paris as usual was beautiful, the food was excellent, the wine was perfect (parfait) my friends as usual were adorable and the shopping was just the therapy I needed. I could not control myself, even though I had specifically told myself I was not going to shop, but what is the point in going to Paris if I can not even buy a pair of shoes, which finally led to not two, not three pairs, but four pairs, but enough of my frivilous side. My excuse is, I shopped for people ;-).

My days were filled mostly with sharing cherished moments with my friends and their families, sitting for hours talking about everything and nothing, sharing good laughs, people watching and gossiping (which the french are very good at...if you think Ghanaians are bad), drinking "Monaco" (red beer-- Please try it) from 10am till God knows when, visiting the beautiful churches to pray that the decision I was going to take in the next 3 weeks was what needed to be done.

However, after lazing around, I decided to do one of the things that had led me to Paris, visit Insead. One of the major decisions I had to make was also figure out which business schools I was going to apply to, that is if I pass my GMAT. On a monday afternoon, Alexis (a good friend from NYC, who is from and lives in Paris, and currently attends Insead) and I decided to drive to Fontainebleau, the hometown of Insead on their first day of school. Fontainebleau, is 45 minutes outside of Paris, a quaint little town. I was finally going to see the school he had spoken so highly of, which through the process, I had grown to fall in love with. Upon my arrival at the school, I expected to see another Harvard but Insead, was quite different and in its own special way understated. The buildings were different, modern architecture but not too glamorous. There was no campus with dormitories for students, but instead students had the opportunity to stay with groups of friends in houses, that looked like mansions and old castles. Inseads diversity with regards to female to male, was close to zero, yet still, I fell in love with the students. The students were from all over the world (which was the kind of diversity Insead could boast of) , had a lot to say and share apart from their food and homes. I got the opportunity to experience not only the acdemic life of Insead, but also the social life. A community that seemed to be tied together, not in little groups held together by their nationalities, like most US schools I had visited, but together by common goals and a strong sense of global community.

At the end of my trip, I had fallen in love with Paris again, fallen in love with Insead for the first time and hoping that I would take my GMAT some day and hopefully get accepted.