"'cause every little thing, gonna be alright"

Two months until graduation and apart from abundant weekend festivities and lunchtime banter, there’s an unsettling frenzy descending upon the student body of the graduating class. Several different sentiments are suspended in the air above our heads. It’s like a current- an electrical charge that we are each carrying with us manifesting itself as fear, desire, apprehension and even some sadness. A few people are doing their best to party as hard as they can every chance that they get, because they know that this is it. For this particular crowd, school has taken a backseat to everything else- but to no detriment- as classes are generally light in both time and work-load.

Other people have been hiding out, due to job search anxiety- and the reflections in their eyes consist only of career search websites and cover letter drafts on their overused laptop screens. I get these people- I see why they feel the way they do and occassionaly, I can commiserate. But at the same time, I’m not one of them- not yet. I’m still working on finding my balance.

Of course, I have my freakout moments. Of course, my CV is perpetually in an open window on my laptop. And of course, my wheels are always turning, visualizing, scheming and thinking about what I will be doing after the MBA.

Monday and Tuesday of this week was “Winter MBA Career Fair.” Around 30 companies came to ESADE, generally industry-focused. Presentations ranged from L’Oreal and Nestle to Roche and Pepsico. I never actually expect to find a job at a career fair, and to be honest- my time is probably better spent working on my resume. At the same time, one never knows when the best opportunities may pop up.  And at this point in the MBA game- with graduation looming at less than a two month distance, skipping any networking occasion would be careless.

The fact of the matter is, I’m not sure about anything other than the fact that I am not sure. And that the day after graduation- I’m not going to just disappear if I don't have a job. I’m not going to discintegrate into thin air. Something will happen. Something will come up. Time will push forward, I will move on, and one day- hopefully sooner rather than later- I will end up doing something that I can say with some sort of conviction; “I was meant to end up here.”

In other news, ESADE fell to numner 19 in the FT MBA rankings. As long as it stays in top 10 in Europe and top 20 in the world, I wont ask for my money back.

And as a side note, I beat all the boys in their weekly poker game the other day. I think that's the MBA’s numbers/probablility/statistics working… And then as an homage to all the CSR courses and seminars, I donated my winnings to Haiti.

Here’s the Red Cross link, should anyone else desire to give a little back: http://arc3.convio.net/site/PageServer?pagename=ntld_main&s_src=RSG000000000&s_subsrc=RCO_BigRedButton

The funny thing is though, except for the brief moments in the middle of the night when I wake up sweating, imagining nothing but a dark abyss after the MBA…and the all-too-often converstions I have with those “super motivated” students wondering how many CVs I have sent out and how many networking events I have attended, Im really not that stressed. I’ve always said, excuse my language but, “shit just has a way of working itself out.”

So as much as I do sympathize with my fellow classmates who cry themselves to sleep at night, experience has taught me that- above all else- I will be just fine…probably better than fine.

And recently, while revising the 1000th version of my CV and his 50^th job application, my classmate gently declared, “I hate you because when its all over, you are going to walk away from this MBA with the dream job I will never be able to get.”

God, I hope he’s right.

Maoz and Montjuic

There comes point when a place- a city, a town, a country- transforms from existing merely as a current address to when it becomes a home. Barcelona is home to me now. I don't know when this change took place, but I can pinpoint the moment when I realized it. I was at my family’s house in Miami a few months ago and as time began to drag, I remember thinking to myself, I can’t wait to get home.

And that was that.

Barcelona, in my mind, is now home.

It's the one place on a map that I can point my finger to and say that's where my stuff is, that's where my bed is, its where my current network is to be found. In flight search engines, my local airport is saved as Barcelona and the little flag that comes up next to my name on Skype is the red and yellow banner of Spain. Barcelona is not just where I live anymore. It's a city where the guy at the café on the corner knows what I want before I order it and where the teller at the bank greets me by name. There is nothing scary left about this city- there’s nothing waiting to jump out at me from around the corner and nothing that I have to try for the first time. I have my favorite restaurants, my hairdressers and my own locker at the gym. I know how long it will take to get to almost any point in the city- and I know which bocadillos to stay away from in the school cafeteria. I know my favorite corners in my favorite plazas, where to get the best patatas bravas in the city and who has the cheapest beer. These things don't necessarily make a place a home, but for me- it's the closest I’ve come in a long time.  

Unfortunately, my time here is limited and in about two months, I will have to go off into the world again and find myself a new home.

Therefore, I must keep reminding myself to enjoy it while it lasts- and I can only hope that my next home welcomes me as readily as this city did. Barcelona isn’t a bad place to occupy for a couple of years.  Its not my ideal- but I’m glad I chose it.

In the beginning of my time here, I established a few lists of my favorite places and features the city has to offer. Now, the lists have changed a bit as I have learned to tailor the city to my own needs and desires. Over a year and an entire MBA degree later...the things I love are not the same- but they are plentiful nonetheless.

I love…

-Saturday morning coffee dates on Passeig De Gracia.

-Strolling along Diagonal on beautiful sunny days- reminding me when I’m just about to forget- that Barcelona is pretty cool.

-Falafel runs to Maoz at 3 a.m. on Las Ramblas.

-Discovering the underground, lesser known side of Barcelona’s nightlife with locals.

-Montjuic at night- and the view of Barcelona from Monjuic at night.

-Massimo Dutti. Who knew?

-Terminal 1 at El Prat. I could spend hours there. In fact, I have.

-Window shopping at Rabat on Rosello. Can’t help it. The glare of the jewels gets me everytime.

-The Vueling in-flight magazine, Ling.

-The skyline full of the long white masts of the boats docked at the port.

-Manchego (secco)

-Plaça Reial’s palm trees

-I love that I figured out the bus system after all this time- it may have taken me over a year but I finally worked out a route that swings me right by Starbucks.

The biggest changes I find between the beginning and the end are the differences linking what I loved then and what I love now. I suppose this, in effect, is what makes a place a home- as opposed to a temporary visit or an impermanent residence.

The most glaring example of this change is what I saw when I looked up then, as opposed to what I see when I look up now.

When I first got here, I loved the drive to school- glancing up and seeing the curves of Gaudi’s designs and the bright blue of the sky that never seemed to darken. Now, the buildings are old news and the weather proved susceptible to nature’s follies. These days, I love looking up in the middle of class and seeing the faces of my classmates. Whether they’re smiling, deep in thought, deep in gchat conversation, rolling their eyes, or even sleeping (you know who you are…), it is their faces that have been the glue between me and this city- making it my home. It is the faces of these people that make me smile to myself knowing that they are in my life- even if its only for another few months.

"Of our elaborate plans, the end."

OK, so it’s been a while since I last wrote and for that I apologize. If I had a valid excuse, I would probably mention it. Truth is, I don’t. Whether it was the fact that “Christmas Break” was three weeks long and I did nothing but eat, drink and be merry- or the fact that I decline to admit to myself that the MBA is reaching its end and therefore am refusing to acknowledge anything of the sort- I have barely opened my laptop since finals.

Now, after an idyllic Christmas in Rome, an absolutely perfect New Year’s in Cortina and many long and lazy days eating my way through Italy- I find myself back in my sub-zero Barcelona apartment- complete with a new family of roaches who seemed to have made a home of my kitchen cabinet. Nonetheless, we are two days into the final term and I’m already short on sleep. This deficiency, however, is no longer due to absurd amounts of work and early classes. Instead, I am now losing sleep as a result of the knowledge that in less than 10 weeks, I will be graduating.

School commenced as it always seems to do after any sort of break…classes began as seamlessly as they ended, we welcomed the new faces here on exchange, said hi to our old friends, dusted off our computers and dug the course books out of our mailboxes. I’m not worried anymore about making it through- If I’m still on the roster after the first year, I am confident that I will be a permanent fixture in ESADE until I am handed my degree.  What I’m worried about is the imminent end. On March 26^th, we will be official MBA’s. That’s exciting. What’s not-so-exciting is March 27^th. “The Morning After.” I will wake up…and then what?

Of my classmates, I think only between 5%-10% have post-grad job offers. And of the remaining 90% of us, there are a good number who are still unsure of what they want to do and where. Although I do wish the best for my schoolmates and their futures, it makes me feel much better that I am not agonizing alone in this quiet disorientation.

It seems that throughout the last four years of my life, I’m continuously heading towards the end of something and the beginning of another.

I’ve heard, read and described the life of an MBA student in countless ways. From “incredible whirlwind,” to “bizarre ride,” MBA students around the globe assume a broad array of emotions throughout their programs. To me, its like I’ve lived an entire miniature life in this finite period of time. In the all-too-short 18 months, I’ve experienced more than my fair share. But the part I’ve loved most about it- is all the many little beginnings and endings wedged in between the margins of the one big beginning and end- the day we began to the day we finish. It’s almost as if- in this one imposing pink building on this one quiet street in this one European city, we have all lived a whole life together, complete with a dawn, a period of growth, a dusk, and a new family that we probably would not have chosen but have grown to love. Now that we are approaching the ultimate end of this part of our lives- all the slightly inconsequential beginnings and endings begin to take on more significance and I have found myself trying to cram as much as I can into the next two and a half months. I’m already starting to miss parts of my life here in Barcelona.

My best friend said to me as we were discussing job searches on the way to school today, “Our little party has come to an abrupt end.”

I couldn't have put it better myself.

Cover Girl

The new ESADE MBA brochures came out last week. I knew they were due to materialize around this time- as they do every year. For that reason, I walked into school one morning and there, on the wall, was a stack of brochures- with my very own face smiling back at me.

I have to admit, I was moderately surprised. I knew I was in the brochure but I didn't know I was on it. Of course, its fun to view oneself on any type of media- its like that “15 minutes of fame” thing. I’m not sure why humans get a kick out of visible recognition, but we do- from the reality TV craze to any type of artistic endeavor. As a writer, seeing my name in print is one of my greatest joys. For anyone in the film industry, I’m sure that seeing their names as the credits role brings an immense amount of satisfaction. For an artist, seeing one’s own works hanging on display in a public arena must bring with it indescribable joy. Therefore, when I saw the brochure, I couldn't help but smile.

My MBA class is comprised of over 100 students the face on the pamphlet could have easily been any one of us. I’m beyond certain that there is nothing more that I bring to the business school than any one of my other classmates- we are all comprised of individual strengths and diverse weaknesses- we have each faced various struggles within the MBA and we have each attained distinct goals. I know that there is no more reason for my image to be on display than anyone else’s. Because of this, it’s not an ego-thing. Instead, after grabbing a few copies (for posterity’s sake)- I leafed through the brochure and put it away.

Yet….it doesn't end there. Later in the day, as I was sorting through my bag for tomorrow’s classes and I caught a glimpse of the brochure, I finally realized how much the recognition means to me.

I was brought back to a moment nearly three years ago when I had an informational meeting with an ESADE representative in London. It was before I had finished my applications and before I was completely sure where I would go or if I would actually end up doing an MBA. Sitting in the Hyatt Regency in London’s Portman Square, resume in hand and a massive knot in my stomach- I introduced myself to the first person I had ever met from ESADE and she handed me a neat little information packet. It was then that the MBA became a reality. For the next few months before my trip to Spain for my interview, I took the “ESADE Full Time MBA” brochure with me everywhere. I flipped through it on my commutes and before I went to bed, I looked at the faces of the then-current students.

I was never one of those people with a path from the very beginning- in that, I didn't know when I was an undergraduate student that I would one day be an MBA. I had no idea what I would be. Therefore, when I flipped through the brochure and saw all these professional looking students in big blue classrooms, studious and determined, I wondered if I would ever make it there. I know that back then, I seriously doubted whether I would actually fit in- if I would ever belong.

Then, a few months later, I finally made it to ESADE where I was introduced to the school and a number of students and met with career services for my official interview. On the way out, I grabbed another brochure- the newest version. And again, I was fearful of the fact that these individuals, these students, would ever fit into my world. Rather, I in theirs.

And then the MBA began. The brochures still lined the walls we walk by everyday and every so often, I would pick one up and browse the photos of the faces I see around the halls, the profiles, the descriptions and the ideals I have come to know so well.

The MBA began so quickly and as I am sure any current student will note- we are thrown so aggressively into it that we stop wondering whether we will fit, whether we will make it, and if we belong.

I know I stopped wondering and simply started doing.

And amidst all this DOING, I’ve nearly reached the end…

And then the brochures came out today and there I was on the cover. I realized that I AM that person- the face that will represent the ESADE MBA for thousands more students who are considering an MBA, wondering where they will fit in, speculating as to whether they will make the cut, and basically- in the middle of some of the decisions that will change the course of their lives forever. Moreover, I looked at my face with a huge geeky grin smiling back at me and although I cant believe I am admitting this, I kind of got all choked up! I thought about that day, the first time I held an ESADE pamphlet in my hands, and had serious misgivings about my place in the whole MBA sphere. And here I am, today, representing at least a small part of the domain.

Of course, next year there will be a new brochure and although there will be plenty of uncirculated copies collecting dust- I will have my copy. And no, its not a degree, a medal of honor or a prestigious award- and I’m not attempting to make it into anything greater than it is. But what it does represent to me- is that I am an MBA student. I did an MBA. I did well enough, and gave enough of myself for the staff to acknowledge me and to allow my face to grace the cover of their brochure. And that's enough for me. For now at least.

The Pursuit of Happiness

As with most wedding receptions, guests are forced to suffer through numerous speeches with personal anecdotes that mean absolutely nothing to 99% of the people in attendance. Once in a while, we get the occasional comic who rustles up a few laughs. But beyond that, family and friends generally sit around picking at their plates, straining to maintain their plastic grins and feigned interest.  In contrast to what I have been trained to expect, there was one thing stated during a speech at a recent wedding that has resonated with me. The father of the bride coolly declared, mixed in with some other mushy stuff, that “there’s no such thing as happiness, just happy moments.”

Being that I have spent the greater portion of my life searching for the “happiness” that supposedly exists (yes, I even got the Japanese symbol for happiness tattooed on my back as a stupid 16 year old with a fake ID), this succinct idiom has put a new spin on everything I have been searching for. No happiness, huh? I wish someone had told me this before.

If there really is no such thing as happiness, which I could probably attest to, then I’m doing pretty well for myself. Meaning- in the “happy moments” department of my existence- I’ve accrued quite a few. Furthermore, when looking at my current status, I am sure that the proportion of happy to unhappy moments is distributed in a manner that quite favors the former part of the equation. 

I’m a pro-complainer. I’ve somehow inherited this lethal negativity with which I view my life. Some friends attribute it to the fact that I’ve done so much, that my threshold for excitement and satisfaction is too great. Others say it's the Jew in me. I’m not exactly sure what I should blame for this insatiable search for contentment- and the inability to oftentimes appreciate my current situation, but what I do know that I am continuously searching for something else. I am living one moment while waiting for the next- in hopes that I will find my happiness there, since it’s obviously not here. But then, if what this man said at the wedding is true, then I’ve actually found my happiness- I’ve had it all along. My happy moments have been amassed in abundance. 

I receive advice all the time. Of course this advice comes out of love and only good intentions, but it’s not easy to “just look at the bigger picture” or to “think about how much you have accomplished.” 

All sound guidance- but not very helpful, if you ask me.

Now, with this new knowledge that there really is no such thing as happiness- I can serenely revel in my “happy moments” and appreciate that no, it doesn't ever get any better than this.

In the beginning of the MBA, I made a few lists naming what I love about being here, the great moments in the MBA, and the advantages to living in Barcelona. Now, nearly a year later- this city has become familiar territory and school has morphed from something novel into something routine. And with this familiarization and passage of time- my happy moments have transformed and been modified into what makes me happy now- as a student finishing up her MBA, probably leaving Spain for a new country, and taking all the lessons I've learned and people I've encountered with me as little happy pieces of my happy moments right here, right now. 

O! Say Can You See...

A year ago, I may have lamented about being stuck in Spain during Thanksgiving- with a 7:30 wake up call, classes all day and not so much as a suggestion of a cornucopia.  What makes it harder though, is the thought of my fellow Americans at home with their four-day weekends, the company of their entire families and a table full of enough food to feed a small country. Today, however, during my second Thanksgiving in Spain as an ESADE student- I'm surprised to find myself with only a shy hint of homesickness. Instead of longing for traditions of the past, I have a new tradition in which to partake.

After class, I will be picking up the ingredients for the creamed spinach I plan to cook for 40 students at our second annual Thanksgiving feast. Being that the MBA lasts only 18 months, it’s infrequent that we have the opportunity to create traditions. This year, we're not starting something new- we're not trying something out that hasn’t been done before. This year, our Thanksgiving celebration will bring with it a familiar quality- Manu with his famous Sangria, Felix busily basting (or whatever it is you do with poultry) the turkey and Vicky with her fabulous all-American apple pie. Thanksgiving in b-school is a new tradition, but a tradition nonetheless. And for that reason, I welcome it into my repertoire of unforgettable pastimes- into my MBA memory bank.

When I was little, after sitting around the Thanksgiving dinner table with my family for hours- full bellied and nearly ready for our early evening naps, we were all acutely aware of the fact that there was something to be done to signify the conclusion of the feast. Every individual- from Nana Annie to eccentric aunt Liss, would stand up on their chairs, place their hands over their hearts- and sing “The Star Spangled Banner” at the tops of their lungs. Being that the only person in the room that could actually carry a tune was my sister, it wasn't a pretty sight. However, our feigned patriotism stands out for me as the symbol of Thanksgiving in my home.

The Witkin clan chorus is family tradition that began at some point with my grandpa’s odd outburst of song, and will continue throughout the generations to come (on my part, at least).

As I got older and didn't live at home anymore- my mom never failed to fly me in for the Thanksgiving festivities. And each year, we continued the singing ritual. In later years, my parents divorced and although our Thanksgiving dinners took place in two different locations, at two different times- we still sang “The Star Spangled Banner” with gusto. And although, as the years have passed, we have suffered the loss of loved ones and welcomed new additions to the family, the custom holds strong and the neighbors can still hear our wailing from down the street.

At some point in the last decade, in addition to our singing, we somehow managed to add another tradition to the mix. I don’t remember exactly when it began or from whom we adapted it- but it is still maintained among family members on Thanksgiving regardless of how far apart we may be.

Now, after all the food and the subsequent singing, we go around the table and ,one-by-one, give thanks for everything good in our lives- everything we appreciate, everything we recognize as a blessing. We were never necessarily patriots, nor are we religious- but I was brought up to "Carpe Diem"- and to appreciate all that I have. Maybe this tradition began because amongst the wine, turkey, tofurky, the chatter, the airport runs, the days and days of shopping and cooking and preparation- Thanksgiving loses its meaning- that is: the day of thanks- the secular type.

I was thinking...if I stand up on my chair at dinner and attempt to hit the high notes shrieking “…and the rockets’ red glare, the bombs bursting in air…”, my classmates might finally consider me certifiably crazy. Therefore, I am simply going to stick with giving thanks.

We have about four months left in the MBA, so it seems that now is as good a time as any to define what I am grateful for. Last year, when our first Thanksgiving together came upon us- each friend filled the voids left by family members back home carving the turkey and mashing the potatoes. At that time, this year’s Thanksgiving felt like a lifetime away. Now it’s here and is most probably the last thanksgiving I will ever spend in Spain. That said, I know I have plenty to give thanks for:

I am thankful to Ray, my GMAT tutor, without whom I never would have rocked the math section and therefore, probably wouldn't be doing an MBA.

I am thankful to Mary, the career services dynamo who interviewed me 2 years ago. Not only did meeting her make me hands-down choose ESADE, but she let me in. She had faith that this artsy, creative non-business person would actually be able to succeed in an MBA.

I am thankful to my mom and stepdad Peter, who have given me all the opportunities in the world. They are the ones who pushed me to do an MBA and they are the ones who pay my credit card bill when I realize I have no money left in my Caja Madrid account because the stupid Euro has skyrocked.

I’m thankful to all my friends here at school, who made the MBA what it is- who made the tough parts bearable and the good parts even better. These are the people whose faces I see every morning on the bus when the sun has not yet risen and the faces looking at me from across the room with the same tired eyes or knowing grins.

I am thankful to Papa Louie who began the singing tradition, and who I miss more and more each year.

Most of all, I have to give one more shout-out to my mom who worked her ass off to  make every thanksgiving of my childhood and early adulthood extraordinary. We should all be lucky enough to have a mom like mine.

Mustache Month

There is no doubt that an MBA degree carries with it a level of amusement. From unplanned social gatherings, to odd couplings, silly gossip, scandals, cultural celebrations and even the rare in-class excitement- we’re never at a loss for things to smile about (much of which I am not at liberty to even note.)

Being that we are nearing the end of the whole shebang, I’ve been tuning in a bit more to the odd and quirky things that happen around me each and every day.

With the help of my blackberry camera, I’ve had the opportunity to document two such notable occasions.

Firstly, and this is a totally new concept to me, apparently the month of November is also known as “Movember”- the month for prostate cancer awareness. According to Movember.com, “The idea for Movember was sparked in 2003 over a few beers in Melbourne, Australia.  The guys behind it joked about 80s fashion and decided it was time to bring the moustache back.  In order to justify their Mos (Australian slang for moustache), they used their new looks to raise money for prostate cancer research… never dreaming that facial hair would ultimately lead to a global movement that would get men talking about a taboo subject – their health.”

So when I saw a bunch of my classmates rocking mustaches, I just had to ask…

Anyway, the facial hair movement here at ESADE is providing some much needed comic relief. And here are a few of the winning Mo’s: (sorry guys…had to!)

And who ever said MBA’s lacked in social responsibility???

Secondly, during my “Transnational Manager” course, we were broken into designated teams in order to work with a given group of MBAs studying somewhere else in the world. Our assignment was to develop a new product- an “Egg Drop Protector (EDP).”

Sound stupid? Yeah, I thought so too. And when I was done complaining about the foolish assignment, I actually enjoyed it. Our trans-national teams worked for about a week designing, analyzing and executing our product plans. Today was the “test” where although the rules were strict (i.e. “NO parachutes allowed!” or “the egg cannot be taped, secured, strapped or tied into the vehicle”), we all somehow managed to bring our devices into class only to be tested in the school stairwell covered in newspaper.

Below are the pics. It was fab.