I tend to not speak much about my gang here on the blog, as I typically "respect other people's right to not be written about on the internet", but this past weekend was a major event in the Alpha-Alpha-Alpha-Alpha-Alpha (you get the picture) sorority and is worth note in this journal of goings-on in my life.
I am so, so, so fortunate to have found myself surrounded by a collection of brilliant, beautiful, funny, smart, brave, honest, susceptible, humble, up-for-anything, loving ladies. Friends with diverse backgrounds, interests, characteristics ... and all bring unique value and growth to my life.
We've come about as friends of friends or co-workers and I'm just so dang lucky we did! This weekend seven of us decided on a road trip to commemorate the escape of one of the Alphs. One of our ladies has fallen in love with a Scandalous Scandinavian and is off to move to Oslo in just two weeks now!
Ponte Vecchio
And celebrate we did ... three days in Florence, Italy - the home of food, Chianti, love, and from my experience tons of naked people cast in stone. We took an hour train from Pisa, stayed in a couple amazing apartments on the river overlooking the "Ponte Vecchio" and spent our time between shopping, resting, wining and dining.
Tuscany ... in my American-movie fed dreams, this is the land of promised green rolling hills, olive oil, and love affairs with some sort of bicycle / teacher / dark hair intertwined (perhaps I need to return some day). We remained in the city of Florence, perusing the markets for leather goods, stopping for frequent gelato breaks, staring up at the unexpected giantness of what is "David", and eating meals that included every last bit of an anti, primi, and a secondi ... woot!
As I wrote the second paragraph above and used the word "susceptible" I paused to Google it. It is one of those words that in some sense connotates weakness and I wanted to assure I wasn't describing the girls with a word that may be mis-construed in a negative way (let's be real, I tend to throw a solid jab here and there, so wanted to check myself!).
But as I ponder its definition { Adjective: 1) Likely or liable to be influenced or harmed by a particular thing. 2) (of a person) Easily influenced by feelings or emotions; sensitive. } I truly think there is no more fitting term as I reflect on this weekend, its significance, and the attendees. As often as we ladies have to put on our head-strong, lead-the-world, take-no-prisoners hats, it is nice to see a lovely woman throw it all to the wind, strip down and say there is nothing I would rather do than be with this person, the man I love, trust, want to have babies with ... so much so that I will stay for months in frigid hours of darkness, learn a new language that sounds no more understandable than tak-a-tak-tak-a-tak, meet strangers and call them family, smoke salmon and reindeer meat at home, and endlessly "train" for cross-country skiing events.
Best of luck to you sweetheart ... though scary, at a minimum you have inspired me and made me proud. I'm sure the other Alphs would agree. Hugs.
I've noticed my inner feminist is starting to stir. Amongst certain company that suggestion will provoke negative connotations and definitely raise an eyebrow or two regarding the fact that I am 37 and still a single lady (?!!??!!??), but I am not talking about being a man-hater, I am talking about being a female-promoter. Since moving to Europe certain situations have caught my attention, causing me to be aware of my womanhood ... instances where the fact that I was a woman was brought to the forward of my consciousness (and I'm not talking about those welcomed encounters).
For example, while boarding an airplane at London's City Airport for Milan, the jet bridge is jammed with men in their 30-50s, wearing sharp black suits, fashionable ties, poking away at their smartphones. Aside from a fashionista or two, it seemed as if I was the only woman flying to Milan to conduct business (at least one senior enough to justify the expense of the city airport). Needless to say, I was the only woman sitting at the table of that Board meeting. Hm.
Or, while walking through the Mobile World Congress in Barcelona last week, the crowd was at least 4:1 male, and much to my disgust the majority of females at the show were scantly clad, their only purpose being to tout the latest shiny device to previously mentioned male-dominated crowd. My skin crawled.
I've also felt the same in the UK, where Board rooms are majority male and it is quite acceptable to tell a woman leader she "sounds like a naggy wife" when she raises concerns about business decisions. Stories from friends revealing male leaders in their offices touching and embarrassing young ladies enrage me.
I just don't recall many situations like this in the US. Upon reflecting my own personal history, I never really considered the fact that I was a female when it came to my own education and career path. Perhaps the U.S. is more progressive than Europe in this sense (go us!), but I also realize now that I am fortunate to have role models in my life that helped me navigate around the oppression many women face along the way.
For starters, I remember quite vividly watching my Mom get ready to go to work when I was young. I would lay in her bed, and she would put on her power suit, pumps, and jewellery to go hit the streets to tackle business in her sporty little car. I always thought how smart, fearless, and beautiful she was, and I know this subtle ritual was very impressionable on me. I wanted to be just like her.
She taught me to get good grades, have expectations for myself and others, and beyond all, to be self-reliant with a good job. If I did those things, everything else would work out. I never remember, ever, a conversation about how I was a girl and expected to do less, or that boys could do some things and girls should do others. Bull-mallarky. If anything, I was shown that as a girl you should simply work harder.
And I have to give credit to the company I work for. From the very first position I held, I was encouraged to grow, learn and take on more. My first boss was a woman, our CEO at the time was a woman, my second boss was a woman, I was hired by a woman to move to Europe, my mentors are mostly women, and as I look at the executive leadership team today easily half are women, if not more. Never has sexuality been a topic at work, aside from the encouragement to continue to be present and to celebrate our diversity. Today, our company issued a series of twenty short videos of our leadership around the world expressing their support of International Woman's Day. I am quite proud to be part of this.
So, on this International Woman's Day, I hope everyone takes the time to acknowledge that our private bits are not an acceptable source of discrimination, to call out those cases in which you see that discrimination taking place, to encourage young woman in your lives that anything is possible, and to thank those who've encouraged you along the way. You should never feel uncomfortable or less than anyone else because you are female and societies that do not encourage their women are not realizing their full potential. And, I have to say, I'm quite looking forward to getting a copy of Cheryl Sandburg's book Lean In, coming out Monday (Facebook's COO and female activist).
Thanks Mom, and to all of you strong ladies in my life, "You've come a long way baby"!
I just downloaded 355 pictures from my trip to Barcelona - a tell tale sign that there was a LOT of eye candy in that city! Last week there was a global convention for those that supply the mobile industry (think phones, tablets, wireless technology, app venders ... eight football arena sized halls of it), and I got to attend on behalf of Nielsen (we're trying to measure what you do on your device!).
Being that I had yet to visit this favourite city of many, I made a long weekend of it to see what the city had to offer. Work has been quite busy, so I did not have much time to do the research I typically do before visiting a new place in order to assure nothing is missed. Fortunately I made do.
I did get in a quick Google search of "food markets Barcelona" and found the grand-mack-daddy of them all. And, I did scan TripAdvisor for the best tapas restaurants. Armed with that knowledge, I made my way Friday evening to "Bar Celta". A quick and easy fried tapas kind of joint near the sea that is also a pulperia (or restaurant that specializes in octopus). Gross to some, a special delight to others ... I ate an entire plateful sprinkled with parprika, along with large plate of pimentos de padron (flash-fried, loads of salt). And, they put a bottle of chilled, local white wine in front of you and you just pay for how much you drink out of it. Bliss.
Saturday was designed to wander the Bari Gotic and Las Ramblas - the old heart of the city and main drag which runs down the middle. The hotel was a metro ride form the centre, so I am now an expert on one more city's public transport system. The Bari is exactly what you want to find when you travel to a European city ... little winding alley ways, lined with shuttered balconies holding laundry, ferns, and local flags. Main stream shops are interspersed with local speciality shops, and fortunately many old businesses are still in tact.
By mid-day we made our way to the Mercat Lo Boqueria, aka Heaven on Earth. This foodie haven provides a solid challenge to my beloved Borough market in London for best in the world. It seems every kind of anything edible the great Earth provides is under this roof - every possible type of fruit, veg, spice, cheese, fish, and meat ... ohhh, the jamon! Catalunya is the home to Iberica ham ... its not cheap, but oh is it delicious. Jamon in a cone! After strolling each and every lane, eating along the way, we stopped to take a load off at a little tapas bar in the market. I had some delicious anchovies with the local Estrella beer. The only reason I could walk out of there was because I knew I would be back before the end of the trip.
From there we continued on our wondering way, seeing the Arc di Triomf (its not only Paris that has one!) with a flock of parrots feeding in front, a darling little shoe shop with every colour imaginable, antique shops with old food tins, and a stop off for a devilish hot chocolate (which was more akin to molten chocolate sauce you'd pour on a sundae, eaten with a little spoon).
For dinner we went to La Paradeta on a recommendation from a friend. This counter-service restaurant sure was popular, indicated by the line of locals winding down the street waiting to get in. It works like this ... counter is overflowing with ice and the freshest of seafood. You get to the counter and order (in Catalan) which items you want, the number of grams, and either grilled or fried. You grab a number and when you hear it called out (also in Catalan) you go to the window and pick it up. No fluff, just grilled squid, tuna, prawns, and I did have to try the razor clams (first time, and they are good). After a stop off for an after dinner glass of local red, and perhaps a couple tapas it was off to bed.
Sunday was planned to be the more cultural day focused on seeing Gaudi's architectual masterpieces sprinkled throughout Barcelona. First, to Sagrada Familia, which left me with one headline - this guy is certifiable. Nuts. Pure genius. The mathematical design concepts he had to discover to build a structure like this, combined with his awesome abiilty to integrate design from nature and inability to say "when" made for some simply unbelievable results. I do have to say, I loved the primary coloured stained glass windows, but the church itself is simply just too "Gaudi".
On our way over to some of his houses, we passed by a xurreria, or as it should be known, the place that makes best dang churro anywhere, ever. Thick, hot, filled with nutella, served in a paper cone from a guy whose been in business for more than 60 years ... fried dough will never go out of style.
Hmmm ... what else was notable ... lunch! Another highly recommended tapas spot Cerveceria Catalana, which served endless varieties of montaditos, or little slices of bread with a topper, usually tomatoes, fish, cheese, and also two key plates - a mountain of french-fried potatoes topped with tomato sauce and a fried egg (everyone was getting it, so of course we had to try it!) and also a plate of grilled green onions. Now, these onions, known as calcots, are not your every day onion (at least that is what this article says). We had to watch others around us to figure out how to eat them ... which is to peel off the outer grilled skins and dredge the soft gooey center into tomato sauce. Combined with a pitcher of sweet sangria, this was classic Catalonia lunch. After a stroll along the coast and through the little Barceloneta neighborhood, it was back to the hotel to just take it easy ... no need to eat dinner that night!
After spending two days and nights at the conference, I had some time on the final day before heading off to the airport to knock out a few more places. As if the weekend weren't enough, I was astounded to find many more foodie delights. First stop was Casa Gispert. This little dried food shop was been roasting nuts since the mid-19th century. They had the old roaster in back going when I was there ... the lighting from the flames, the aroma of almonds, and the historic shelves lined with dreamy delights was surreal. This is where I picked up my paella rice.
Making my way to another food market, Mercat Santa Catarina, I came across an old pastry shop with these crunchy, chocolate and peanut covered thingies (and its making me crazy because I didn't get the name of them) and of course had to stop for a couple since they were so unique. This market was quite nice as well, with meat/cheese stalls dreams are made of. I wandered a bit and found a little shop selling paella pans, so that souvenier was a reality.
Winding my way across town, stopping at La Boqueria market for one last mental hug and a toast with a glass of local Cava (I learned that Cava, Spain's answer to France's Champagne and Italy's Proseco, is from quite close to Barcelona), I made it over to the Parallel area of town for the grand finale meal at Quimet i Quimet. As chance would have it in a town like Barcelona, I walked past this amazing old bakery, serving bunyols, small little donut-hole like creations served in Barcelona only during the season of lent. Picked up a few of those babies and tucked them into my bag for a snack on the plane.
Anyway, in a less touristy part of town, this small little tapas counter (no seats) was epic. I did read about it online, and after seeing it in a gastronomy book I bought while in town, I had to make it there. Not much bigger than my kitchen, every bit of wall space from floor to ceiling is covered with wine and food products. They had some wicked montaditos, like salmon with truffled honey, shrimp dotted with caviar and creme freche, and the closer ... foie gras speckled with black volcanic salt. Ta dah!!!
I have been on a veg and fruit diet for three days now! Barcelona ... one of the few cities I would make a repeat visit to. Next time, in the warm weather ... throw in visits to the beach and I may never leave!
As I wrote the second paragraph above and used the word "susceptible" I paused to Google it. It is one of those words that in some sense connotates weakness and I wanted to assure I wasn't describing the girls with a word that may be mis-construed in a negative way (let's be real, I tend to throw a solid jab here and there, so wanted to check myself!). 
