During my junior year of college I was lucky enough to go abroad and study at the Universidad de Granada in Granada, Spain.  The opportunity was one that I knew I would never get again.  The price was right, the curriculum was right and the scholarships were available.  I hoped on a plane, lived with a host family and did a summer semester abroad.  This was truly an amazing opportunity for me and opened a kid from the Midwest’s eyes just a little bit more.  I had a few fellow friends who also studied abroad in the UK, Czech Republic, Italy and Spain so upon our returns after our respective semesters we all had a little bond we could share. 

 During my time in Spain, I was immersed in culture, language, new public transportation systems, and massive backpacks while still living on the college student budget.  I learned a lot about myself, the world and other people during my semester.  I returned to the States hoping I could one day have another global experience.  [Side note:  I have some goals in my closet that I look at every morning; Teach Someone to Read, Live Abroad Again, Visit all Major Continents, Run with the Bulls, Endow a Scholarship at Kansas State (my alma mater),  Obtain an MBA or JD and Work Abroad.]   As I returned to home to the US, I started back to the ways of the typical US citizen- very little global awareness, inability to name foreign leaders, and sole focus on the economy of America.  This is partially my fault but also it is how America and “media America” tends to operate.  We live in a giant US bubble with 2 neighbors that really do not affect us unless you love Montreal (like me) and socialist healthcare or if you are involved with the drug/gun cartel or like to vacation in Puerto Vallarta. 

About the 2^nd week in August, my old manager who is currently a Sr VP of our division called me on my mobile asking me to swing by his office.  As I got off the phone with him I was going thru other e-mails from the morning on my blackberry and saw an e-mail from roughly our divisional CFO asking me to swing by his office as well.  From this e-mail and phone call I knew something was up because why would they both want to talk on a Monday morning?  I quickly dropped in and was presented with the idea of going to China.  When I first heard this I was a little in shock and imagined it was for a few weeks or the like.  But when I asked “For a week or 2?” they quickly replied, “Nope.  Just go there and make some stuff happen.  When you want to come home we’ll get you back but we’d like at least a year.”  I was in shock…and kind of giddy.   But China?  This was something new…and not Western… wow, non Western is kind of a big deal… 

Being in my 20s with no family, but some awesome friends, this was the ideal time to pack up and head west.   My friends have been amazing during this process, while certain family members have other thoughts.  But I look at this as a once in a lifetime opportunity.  China is the last frontier we will see develop.  To be on the ground floor of this amazing growth and explosion of a country is quite unreal.     

So here I am.  I will leave it at that for now and hopefully post again on Trina’s blog as my experiences continue to grow and take place in China with work, people, and my overall thoughts and opinions of China.  In the meantime, find me here.

A Shanghai Photo

Another Photo of Shanghai

I recently started on a project in South Florida, and it had been awhile since I’d been a road warrior.  I had forgotten some of my strategies for staying organized and keeping my blood pressure down.  I’m sharing some of my tips and tricks to keeping it all together when living on the road, and I’d love for others to share theirs.  This article is all about knowing your airplane seat via Seat Guru.

Airplane Seats--so much to learn about them!

Until I started traveling frequently, I never had a clue what type of plane I was aboard.  A plane is a plane is a plane, right?  Wings?  Check.  Pilot?  Check.  Seat?  Check.  Liftoff?  Check.  Boom—satisfied customer.  Eventually, I began to realize when you spend your 3 hour commute in an aircraft, the type of plane and where you sit sometimes matters.

My first few weeks on the road led me to observe people using their laptops during an entire flight; however, my laptop would inevitably die.  I started to ask seasoned consultants how this miracle of battery life could be.  That was when I became informed of what I call the “cigarette lighter plug thing” (aka DC power port) on certain seats of certain types of aircrafts.  I couldn’t believe that I didn’t know about this power port! 

It was this sort of conversation that caused a very well-connected, seasoned consultant to enter a magical supply closet and pull out an ownerless laptop charger with said DC power hookups.  I embraced my new power source and immediately began planning all of the great things I would accomplish with it.

That was when I realized the big question hadn’t been answered.

Q: How do I know if there is a power port in my seat? 

A: http://www.seatguru.com/

The very well-connected, seasoned consultant described seat guru to me, and it rocked my world.  It’s quite simple: first you sort by airline in the left-hand column, then sort by aircraft type in the left-hand column (you can find this you when you book your flight) and you can analyze where to sit based on the map of the plane.  On the map, there are little dots marking which seats have power ports (NOTE: some planes have more ports than others).  Seat guru color codes the seats for good, decent and bad and describes the logic behind the rating (hover over the seat with your mouse to read the description).  It tells you important things you don’t normally think about, such as media box taking up space under seat, lots of kitchen noise, limited seat recline, etc. 

I’ve now used seat guru for both personal and professional travel, and it is one of my favorite travel websites.  When a website assures that I’ll be able to watch many episodes of 30 Rock on my flight, I’m happy as a clam. 

Please comment if you have a similar tool in your travel tool belt as I always love to have more!

Many of us have lived a life with minimal risk.  It is in this riskless lifestyle where we create comfort zones allowing us to continue on in a steady state of happiness.  Others of us have shattered our comfort zones by taking major risks, such as moving to Colorado or traveling abroad, as soon as we were able. 

My life up to my twenties was mostly lived in my comfort zone: Iowa.  I was born and raised in Ida Grove, IA (Northwestern Iowa).  Although it was small with only 2,350 people and one stoplight, Ida Grove was a truly blissful place to grow up.  I was among life-long family friends, close to a majority of both sides of my family, able to roam the streets on my bike at all hours and felt very safe—the only crimes I can remember were drug related and rare.  My parents were happily married and both had steady, full-time employment.  Life was grand.

Despite all the comforts, I had been yearning to experience culture and life in a big city from an early age.  Ida County is particularly rural and far from…everything.  We were 1 hour to Sioux City, 2 hours to Omaha and around 2.5 hours to Des Moines.  Wal-Mart and fast food places were 26 miles away, and the nearest shopping mall was in Sioux City (you shopped with a mission).  The population was homogenous to say the least with nearly 99% of residents being white (most of them probably Christian), less than 1% foreign born and less than 2% speaking a language other than English at home. 

Country Roads Back Home

When it came time to end high school and leave this safe haven, I went as far as in-state tuition would allow: IOWA CITY.  My first few years at the University of Iowa were incredibly happy.  I was surrounded by a mixture of native Iowans, Chicagoans who migrated over for school and many free spirits.  Iowa City is a very unique spot in Iowa filled with artists, liberals, academics and free thinking people.  I finally settled on Biology/pre-medicine as my track and was pushing myself intellectually in the best kind of way.  Iowa City seemed to be the perfect stepping stone for a small-town girl desiring a bigger city (the Chicagoans thought the “Iowa City is a big city” bit was hilarious).

It was in my final months at Iowa when I started to have these intense moments of clarity.  It was a combination of study burnout, self-inflicted exhaustion, a desire to know who I was and a gut feeling that screamed “GET OUT OF HERE ALREADY!”  I was having a flash of my twenties in expensive medical school in the state of Iowa (where I got accepted)…and I HATED it.  I had an epiphany that I needed to use my twenties to discover who I was, and I knew I wasn’t a life-long Iowan.  I had nothing holding me back…why not leave?

I looked for grown up jobs in Chicago, but I wound up finding a company out of Plano, TX (North Dallas) with a development program for healthcare IT consultants.  I was to be in Plano for 3 months, learn all about healthcare IT systems and then be deployed to any of the cities with open roles.  This was a huge RISK and unlike anything I’d ever done before.  Also, was I really going to be moving to Texas? 

Prior to my Texan adventure, I spent my last few days in comfortable Ida Grove…comfortable is perhaps the wrong word.  I was stressed, not sleeping particularly well, experiencing heartburn (it’s horrible!) and losing my appetite (this really never happens!).  I’d made the decision without hesitation, but the enormity of it was hitting me like a freight train.  Part of me was thrilled about the adventure and potential self discovery, but the other half was terrified of the unknown.  I took deep breaths and headed to Texas.

My first 3 months in Plano wound up being some of the happiest in my life.  Texas was warm in the winter, I fell head over heels for an Irishman and I met some of the most wonderfully diverse and funny people.  I grew up, learned about self awareness and started to build confidence.

Leaving Iowa for Texas was a 751 mile leap outside of my comfort zone.  After the development program ended, I was sent to Chicago very briefly, then to Rhode Island for 8 months and now back to Dallas.  All of these moves were out of my comfort zone and some of them were NOT POSITIVE experiences.  Even though there was a lot of pain, I wouldn’t change any of them, because I grew up in the process.  I’m a tougher, better person because I stepped out of my comfort zone, and I amassed some great stories through it all.

Dallas Mates in Austin

I knew some time with my family was what I needed, because I find spending time with people who get you down to your core is an amazing way to refocus and re-center.  This Saturday I boarded a plane to Omaha to spend a week at my parent’s house in my hometown.  It has been almost 9 months since I’ve been home (a reality I accepted when I left two years ago). 

You may be thinking: what about that pesky thing called work?  Well…due to the client’s budget restrictions, I have only been traveling to Fort Lauderdale every other week.  My “off weeks” usually consist of me playing musical workspaces between the amazing Starbucks below my apartment and my favorite chair in my room (a bedroom chair was quite possibly the best thing I have ever bought).  Earlier in August, I thought to myself, “Why don’t I work from Iowa one week?”  It was like the flexibility of my work situation finally hit me: if I have wifi and phone reception, I can answer emails and dial into calls anywhere which includes my parent’s house (they have internet in rural Iowa along with electricity and running water…).

At this point, I haven’t even been home for 48 hours and already there is a calming effect.  I’ve had the stereotypical, yet wonderfully familiar, meal of grilled pork chops, potatoes and corn on the cob.  My mother’s side of the family came over yesterday, and it felt great to see my aunts, uncles and some cousins.  Also, it was reassuring that my aunts still have their talents in the kitchen (I may never eat again after yesterday’s buffet).  My cat who is nearing 20 barely remembers me, but we are working on our strained relationship – she doesn’t much care for me…or anyone for that matter. 

Yummy!

Until I have a home of my own that truly feels like home, this house will be home, home.  I’ve moved A LOT in the last few years, and no place has felt permanent.  Dallas feels closer to long-term but definitely not permanent.  I don’t know how often I will make it back to this house, but it has a soothing power that my apartment will never have.  There is such a special place for home, home.

My work partner for the week, Amelia the diva cat, is not so much into work

My First Indian Wedding-Me with the Couple

There are a few certainties in the summer months: BBQs, blockbuster movies, tan lines, humidity and, of course, weddings.  My earlier Iowan summers were filled with family cookouts at Lake Okoboji, endless days at the city pool achieving horrid tan lines, sticky nights up to no good in tall cornfields and the traditional exchange of nuptials between two Christian Midwesterners.  This summer I’ve managed to take in all the aforementioned certainties in the form of hot dogs, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, wicked Texas-induced tan lines, makeup-melting sweats (myth buster: Dallas has humidity!) and two of the most wonderfully unique weddings I’ve ever attended.

Two August 2009 weekend road trips brought me to steamy Houston, TX for an Americanized Nigerian wedding and a traditional Indian wedding.  I had no idea what to expect other than cake and some shameless dancing where others look on in horror.  I went in with an open mind, and each one presented me with a different perspective on weddings, love, traditions and the union of two people ready to officially start their lives together.

WEDDING #2:

Another weekend and another trip to the suburbs of Houston (quite a bit like the suburbs of Dallas really), and I was thrilled about attending my first Indian wedding.  I’d heard legends about how fun and how beautiful Indian weddings are, and I’d seen Slumdog Millionaire—therefore, I must be an expert on Indian culture (that’s a joke).  I met the bride earlier this year as she was new to the company and I was to be mentoring her during her first 30 days.  It was love at first sight, and we have been close friends ever since.  She was engaged when she started with the company, and I’d been anticipating this happy wedding for months.

Roommate Lindsay, my faithful co-pilot, and I headed to the temple mid-morning on Saturday.  We weren’t sure where we were going and somehow wandered around the side of the temple.  In between two buildings were lovely gardens where a drummer was bringing rhythm to celebratory dancing and the groom was hoisted onto the shoulders of friends and family.  You could see the groom’s smile from our far off vantage point, and it nearly melted my heart.  Like the prior weekend I found myself in awe of the clothes.  The colors, the draped fabric, the jewels, the beautiful people, etc all took my breath away and felt so wonderfully foreign.

Party in the Temple Gardens-Groom Hoisted Up

Lindsay and I decided that we should probably be inside the temple, and we managed to find a side door leading into the room where the ceremony was to be held (a banquet hall with tables facing a stage).  The first person I saw was my lovely friend, the bride, in traditional Indian wedding clothes, and I had to fight back tears.  She was more beautiful than any Bollywood movie star or person I’d ever seen.  It’s an odd thing to see one of your friends in their traditional ethnic clothes…this is such a huge part of who she is, and I’d never seen her in this way.  I must say that a sari is far lovelier than a power suit any day!

The Beautiful Bride

Lindsay and I found our other Dallas friends and reserved a table with a VIP view of the stage where the ceremony was to be held.  We headed out from the banquet room to the lobby area where the groom, drummer and party had migrated from the gardens to the temple doors.  I could now clearly see he was wearing a turban-like hat on his head (again, surprising to see him in traditional clothes) and that melt-your-heart smile.  Like the bride, he looked like a movie star.  The crowd in the foyer parted, and the bride was led by her sisters out to the groom.  They were both hoisted in the air and placed garlands of roses around each others’ necks.  After being gently placed back on the ground, they headed inside separately for the ceremony to begin.

Back in the banquet room, the bride’s parents were sitting in two chairs facing the audience on the stage.  After a procession, they were joined by the groom who sat down in a chair to the side of the bride’s father.  After welcoming him, the bride’s sisters placed a tapestry in front of the groom to prevent him from seeing the bride until she was sitting across from him.  The bride’s friends walked down the aisle holding candles and filed to the sides of the aisle waiting for the bride to pass by.  My friend was breathtaking as she walked down the aisle and up onto the stage with her aunt and uncle.  She took the seat across from her soon-to-be husband, and the ceremony continued in Gujarati and Sanskrit.

The Bride Approaches the Groom

From this point on, the room was full of chatter and movement (very different than most American weddings).  I wasn’t too sure about what was happening on the stage, but I was enchanted by it.  Suddenly (or so it seemed to me since I didn’t know what was happening) the bride and groom stood up and they placed garlands around each other’s necks as they had done earlier.  There was a flurry of activity and the photographers began to snap tons of photos.  After a few more rituals—one of which a varamala (rope) was placed around them, husband and wife took the seats where the bride’s parents were originally sitting.  I assumed at this point that they were married which was later confirmed to be true.  From this time until we left, waves of people were coming up to the stage for photos with the couple.

The Happy Couple!

As I beamed at the couple onstage, I was beginning to feel the effects of the Indian wedding ceremony: desire to wear a sari, be Indian, spontaneously start dancing with the music and understand Hindi.  Lindsay and I know one of the bridesmaids, and she assisted with filling us in on what was happening throughout the afternoon.  We were most thankful to her!

People had been eating for some time (hence the chatter and movement), and I decided to get in the buffet line.  I watched the Indian people in line around me and copied them.  The food was Indian (of course), vegetarian, spicy and wonderful.  I didn’t recognize very much of it, but I tried it all and enjoyed it!

Wedding Food

My mind was in a whirl after all of this (exactly like the prior weekend), and the day was only half over!  I couldn’t even imagine what to expect for the evening reception.  Lindsay and I found our way to the hotel and then later to the room where the bride was getting ready.  Up close I was able to notice the amazing intricacy and detail of the henna on her hands, forearms and feet.  I’ve tried to draw it on my hands before, but it never looked quite like this… I was informed that everyone was going to be changing outfits for the reception which made me as happy as my mother in an antique store.  The wardrobe change meant that I was going to be ogling at all new saris for the night!!

As the reception kicked off, it wasn’t only the clothes that enraptured me but the whole event.  There were entertaining MCs running the show, fantastic Indian music, family introductions, several choreographed dances and an adorable skit about the bride and groom put on by their close friends.  It was all bright, fun and joyous.  Eventually it was time for the dance party, and I was dreading it after seeing all the other talented dancers throughout the night.  I was pulled onto the dance floor, informed of a few simple ways to dance somewhat like an Indian person would (lift your arms, screw in the light bulb and move your hips) and wound up having one hell of a great night.

The Happy Couple Watching the Skits

Besides the clothes, a few things really struck me about my first (and hopefully not last—Jilan, Pranav???) Indian wedding:

• There were a lot of customs and rituals that were completely foreign to me.  I felt really honored to be a part of such a traditional Indian event.  I was humbled at how respectful the ceremony was to Indian culture.
• It was a huge crowd – it seemed like people had come in from all over for the big day.
• The close and extended family were recognized and paid respect throughout the weekend.
• Colors, everywhere.  It was not just white with a hint of Tiffany’s blue.  No, it was reds and oranges and pinks and blues and lilacs, etc, etc.  I LOVED IT.
• The bride and groom had a natural glow of happiness, but they were also sparkling with jewels and sequins on their clothes.  In addition, the ceremonial area was filled with sparkles.  I LOVED IT.
• Music was an integral part of the event.  Between the drummer and the Indian music playing overhead, I couldn’t help but keep the beat with my hands.
• Dancing was inevitable: we saw dancing when we first walked up to the temple and we ended the night with dancing which I really got into.  It was the beat in that music…

The approximately fourth-generation German-American-Iowan girl (hence the last name ending with –DORF) went to Houston and attended a Nigerian-American and an Indian wedding.  The German-ness is mostly non-apparent in our customs back home.  I love that my friends who got married this August still have such close connections to their home countries and their customs.  Those rituals all had special meaning about the act of marriage making for two weddings that were very different but equally spectacular to me.

If I decide to ditch the elopement idea, I’ll have Nigerian headdresses, saris, Indian music, Nigerian music, Indian dancing, Indian food, the Nigerian custom of throwing money on the couple, that slightly-coconuty cake from the first wedding…

The Couple's First Dance

American-Nigerian Wedding Reception

There are a few certainties in the summer months: BBQs, blockbuster movies, tan lines, humidity and, of course, weddings.  My earlier Iowan summers were filled with family cookouts at Lake Okoboji, endless days at the city pool achieving horrid tan lines, sticky nights up to no good in tall cornfields and the traditional exchange of nuptials between two Christian Midwesterners.  This summer I’ve managed to take in all the aforementioned certainties in the form of hot dogs, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, wicked Texas-induced tan lines, makeup-melting sweats (myth buster: Dallas has humidity!) and two of the most wonderfully unique weddings I’ve ever attended.

Two August 2009 weekend road trips brought me to steamy Houston, TX for an Americanized Nigerian wedding and a traditional Indian wedding.  I had no idea what to expect other than cake and some shameless dancing where others look on in horror.  I went in with an open mind, and each one presented me with a different perspective on weddings, love, traditions and the union of two people ready to officially start their lives together.

WEDDING #1:

The lovely pair who wed in the Americanized Nigerian wedding are first-generation Nigerians who both work for the same company as me.  I met the couple in Rhode Island and quickly connected with them one night out for coffee on Wickenden Street.  I haven’t had the pleasure of knowing many continental Africans and hearing about their strong Nigerian roots was fascinating to me.  I followed the couple from the Ocean State to the Lone Star State and was elated to celebrate their American wedding with them (their traditional Nigerian wedding was held earlier in the year).

Besides heavy humidity, I wasn’t sure what to expect when my roommate Lindsay and I pulled up to the Catholic Church in the suburbs of Houston.  When I first noticed the traditional Nigerian dresses, hats, headdresses, etc I remember being in awe due to the sheer beauty of the attire.  The headdresses alone were stunning and so wonderfully unlike anything I’d ever seen on a person’s head.  The bride and groom wore traditional westernized wedding garb and looked elated on their big day.  I was so consumed by all the beautiful people around me that I planned to spend the majority of the ceremony analyzing the clothes in the sanctuary.

Women in Traditional Nigerian Clothes at the Reception

I was brought back to the rest of the world by the engaging priest who had a thick yet easily understandable Nigerian accent.  Normally sermons lose me when they talk about scripture, evangelizing, evolution or the need to have God in our lives; however, this priest focused his sermon on life and had my full attention the entire time.  He spoke about his pride in watching the next generation of Nigerians live and make decisions not based on a world of distress but based on their own accord.  The act of engagement and marriage is a point where young Nigerians can fully pour themselves into each other and truly become adults.  His message was one of the best I’ve ever heard at a wedding, and the mentions of the couple needing to have children were delivered more as witty hints rather than a main point.

Lindsay and I headed to the reception, and I was deep in thought about the priest’s message (when I say “deep in thought”, I mean appearing dazed to the rest of the world).  It was in this deep/dazed state that I listened to the breaking of the kola nut ceremony delivered in Igbo by a high-ranking elder in the audience.  Lesson Learned: don’t throw a giant chunk of kola nut in your mouth–eat only a tiny bit of the kola nut at a time because it’s surprisingly bitter and awkward to spit out in front of the Nigerians watching the table of white kids from Dallas.  The food was similarly themed to the rest of the event: a mixture of traditional Nigerian and classic westernized.  The traditional Nigerian food was spicy and delicious, and the cake was amazing (I’m still dreaming of that cake).

Bringing Out the Kola Nuts

Kola Nut Ceremony: Elder Speaking to the Family of the Couple

The rest of the night was filled with traditional music and dancing by different groups in the room.  Money was thrown over the couple to bless them, and they were very blessed by the end of the night!  Of course, some hip hop music was played at the end of the night for the young Americans (the couple are both amazing dancers!).

I was swept away by the Nigerian clothes, music and hospitable crowd willing to share some of their traditions.  Marriage is an important event to Nigerians who celebrate with passionate happiness and hope for the bride and groom.  The blend of Nigerian and American customs was classy, unique and made for one of loveliest weekends in this young former Iowan’s life.

I’ll be posting the second half of this article about the Indian wedding I attended later this week.

Right now I am in this fabulous life stage: I’m educated, single, emancipated from my parents, employed, full of life, cute (I have to give myself some credit), and blessed with a derriere that rivals JLO and Kim Kardashian (I’m learning to embrace rather than hate it).  This is the time when I am supposed to be dating these great guys and going out for cosmopolitans with my fabulous girlfriends.  Instead, I find myself going through the same routines and doing unglamorous things like drinking wine alone and watching the BBC Pride and Prejudice miniseries (I nearly tackled the delivery guy when it arrived from Amazon).  Where do the cute boys and dates come in?

People always say that “he” comes along when you aren’t expecting it which is exactly how both of my two serious loves happened.  At this time, I’m not even looking for Mr. Right; I just want to have fun, flirt a little and date interesting boys.  In college, this was all so easy: get gorgeous with girlfriends, drink a bit, go to the bar, drink a bit more, meet that cute guy from Organic Chemistry II (that’s a joke by the way) and flirt all night.

For over a year now I have been doing my usual “thing” and haven’t met anyone that has really caught me.  I go to the gym, work, get groceries, meet friends for drinks and dinner, etc yet nothing has happened.  Looking for men at bars has never led to GOOD dates for me.  I started to wonder if I was too boring and thought maybe I needed to try another avenue to meet the men folk. 

That’s when the marketing geniuses at Match.com sucked me into their world of “It’s ok to look”.  I had been curious about online dating for a long time and wanted to know how it all worked.  One Tuesday night after a glass of wine, I typed match.com into the browser and hit enter.  I searched for males in Plano, TX from ages 23-30, and a lot of interesting profiles appeared.  I created my own profile, wrote in some of my interests, added 3 of my most flattering photos, wrote a little about what I was looking for and submitted it for approval (content and photos have to get approved by match.com). 

Just as the ads promise, you can look and wink (equivalent to a facebook poke) at others all you want, but that’s about it.  In order to read/send emails, see who has viewed your profile or IM online users, you need to shell out some cash.  I had received several winks, emails and IMs, and the curiosity was killing me.  It was at this point that I decided to give this a try for one month.  In addition to the previously mentioned privileges, match.com starts sending you 5 daily matches which is a nice little treat in your inbox.

The main attraction I had to the entire process was being able to select who you communicate with based on criteria that are important to me.  For example, I am not religious, and I was able to select guys that shared my lack of beliefs.  Therefore, I prevented myself from going on dates with a big deal-breaker for both parties.   

I emailed and IM’d with a few different guys that looked great on paper to me and went on dates with 2 of them (both happened to be engineers…maybe I have a thing for them).  Guy 1 and I chatted on match.com (it’s a crap chat client) twice and started emailing back and forth for a week.  After seeing that we had a great deal in common, he asked me to meet him at an Italian restaurant.  I was a slight train wreck, because this was the first time I had done anything like this.  I changed outfits too many times to count.  I fretted about being too sexy or too closed off.  Finally, I got myself together and went.   He was nice, smart, quiet, sweet and laughed at my jokes (usually a winner for me).  However, there was something that I just couldn’t put my finger on and declined the second date offer.  I later realized that he didn’t make ME laugh much at all, and there just wasn’t a spark.

Guy 2 and I emailed twice then talked on the phone.  He cut right to the chase and asked to meet me at a café near work.  I was much less nervous and equated this to me being in my suit from work (a comfort zone: flattering, classy and screams powerful woman).  Again, he was nice, smart, quiet, sweet, laughed at my jokes (obviously), but he didn’t make me laugh much and there just wasn’t that instant spark.  Although I had reservations, I accepted the second date because I thought I would give him another chance.  The dinner went alright (about the same as the first time), and then we saw a movie.  During the movie, I kept thinking he was nice but I just didn’t feel “it”.  Perhaps by accepting the second date I confused him, because he tried to kiss me at the end of it.  Leaving nothing left to be confused, I muttered something about “being nervous and not having dated much” and promptly drove home (just imagine stuttering, fumbling for my keys…horribly awkward).  He received that message very clearly as he did not try to call again.  Nice guy just not for me…

I did a lot of deep thinking on the subject and realized I was looking for a spark/connection/chemistry that just can’t be identified on a profile.  If I had put more effort into match.com, I’m sure my dates would have been better.  I truly feel that online dating is entirely what you make of it, and I could have tried harder to find a non-religious, tall, educated comedian in the Dallas-Fort Worth area.

Pros: I went on 3 dates, satisfied my curiosity, experienced a whole new approach to dating and now understand why this is such an effective method.

Cons: I can’t pinpoint who I will spark with based of a few details, and it requires a lot of work to find that special someone on match.com.

My recommendation is to give it a shot if you are curious.  Remember, it’s ok to look…just screen for the creep-o’s and always MEET them at places.  Also, try out the other dating sites as their approach may be more effective or less work for you. 

As for me, I am going to continue my usual routine of flirting with the cheese guy at Whole Foods (best goat cheese in the metroplex) and coyly waving at the gym guy for now…

We live in a world that teaches us from the beginning not to talk to strangers, and it’s not shocking that when we get older we have trust issues with our fellow humans.  I am usually skeptical of every other person around me and hope they won’t try to rob or sexually assault me (that might be the scared little small-town girl inside of me).  Then there are the times where you let your guard down, and some jerk store takes advantage of you – that’s right, you know who you are car fixer guy in Woonsocket, RI.  On the flip side, I find it hard to trust the people I work with on a daily basis.  It seems like everyone has some sort of anti-you agenda, and this planet is every man for his/herself. 

That is why when I boarded my plane last night from Fort Lauderdale to Dallas I had every intention of sitting down, writing a superb LA article I had promised to Dan (hadn’t a clue what to write) and not talking to any strangers.  Enter: adorable 30-something Texan blonde woman.  She started talking to me about how she was a little nervous about flying.  It seemed harmless enough, so I chatted to her about pretty surface level topics (weather, flying, why we were both in town, etc).  After all, I couldn’t start my article during taxiing anyways, right?

Well, I spent the entire flight engaged in non-alcohol-induced conversation with this woman!  It was fascinating to me how INCREDIBLY open you can be with a complete stranger.  She was in her mid-thirties, recently divorced, recently began reinventing herself and had two sons.  She gave me a lot of frank, good advice about marriage and your twenties.  Divorce is something that terrifies me to my core, and she answered all of my questions.  I told her about myself, and it was delightful to get opinions from someone who doesn’t have a vested interest in my life.  There were no awkward tensions or political agendas (ah work drama) – just straight up here is how I see it.  I got off that plane feeling like I had just spoken with a breath of fresh air. 

I’m not suggesting that everyone should talk to everyone, but I am suggesting that once in a while it is extremely refreshing to have a positive encounter with a complete stranger.  It is nice to know that there are still genuinely good and friendly people out there from whom you might even learn something.  I’d like to give a big tip of my hat to the adorable 30-something Texan blonde woman onboard the 5:40pm flight from FLL to DFW for a great conversation.

Most people imagine the life of a travelling associate is a glamorous one.  Although there are perks, it is pretty far from attractive a lot of the time.  Dragging a controversially large carry-on suitcase around an airport at 5:30 on Monday mornings, sitting in an oddly-smelling rental car in Humidville, FL, eating overly-priced, mediocre room service by yourself, working long hours and spending several hours of your week sitting next to strangers on an MD-80 airplane is reality. 

I recently started on a project in South Florida, and it had been awhile since I’d been a road warrior.  I had forgotten some of my strategies for staying organized and keeping my blood pressure down.  I’m sharing some of my tips and tricks to keeping it all together when living on the road, and I’d love for others to share theirs.  This article is all about organized packing.

For me, carrying your bag on is the best way to go.  Many males are probably chuckling and thinking, “Why would you need to check a bag for 4-5 days of travel?”  I can’t exactly explain it, but I always feel the need to be prepared for any situation which causes me to over pack for trips (what if there is a spontaneous cocktail party??? I’ll need a dress!!!).  The reality of this type of travel is that you won’t be in many situations.  You go to work, you go to the gym, you MIGHT get food somewhere after work and you MIGHT go out one night (I never do, but if you are one of the cool kids…).  I rarely do much shopping during business travel, so the extra space isn’t a problem either.

The best way to be prepared and still condense your wardrobe is pack in one color scheme.  Pack your black dress/work shoes, black suit jacket, black suit pants, black suit skirt, one shirt that goes with black for each day of work and make one of the shirts able to transfer from work to play.  I place the minimal amount of jewelry that I will want to coordinate with the packed outfits in a bag and toss that into the suitcase too.  After all that, you just have underwear, workout clothes, sneakers, a pair of jeans/shorts, a pair of flip flops, bathing suit if you sit in the hotel hot tub and a good book.  Bonus: using only one suit is less dry cleaning! 

Also, hotels have a lot of your needs covered.  You don’t need to pack a hair dryer, shampoo, conditioner and soap which means you don’t have to take up space for those in your small suitcase or liquids baggie.  My carry-on suitcase came with a clear, durable, 1-qt bag.  These days it always contains my face wash products, small lotion, small perfume, small toothpaste, small mascara and favorite lip gloss.  I rarely take them out of the bag, and I store it in the uppermost outside zipper on the suitcase (easy to get out at the security checkpoint).  My other hair products and big liquids I just live without for the week on the road.  Do I really need a bottle of volumizing spray? No. 

Also, I keep a makeup bag in my suitcase with non-liquid necessities, such as q-tips, a razor, a tiny sewing kit and deodorant.  I seem to always have extras of those things anyways…  On Monday mornings/Sunday nights, I get ready and throw my tooth brush, hair brush, straightener, thinned out makeup bag (I only need the basics) and phone chargers in my suitcase. 

This may sound like a lot of effort but the organization is worth it, trust me.  When you are able to waltz straight to the security checkpoint, breeze past the people waiting for extended periods at the baggage claims or saunter by those unfortunate travelers at the lost luggage counter, you will be smiling the whole way to your final destination.  I’ve found the minimalist approach to travel can go a long ways.  I went to visit family during a weekend on the road and shocked them by going with one carry-on suitcase for two whole weeks!!!  Granted I was able to do laundry at my brother’s house, but it was still an achievement for me!

In college, free food was like gold.  The promise of free pizza caused college students to sign up for credit cards, attend meetings for organizations they didn’t care about and show up to sorority functions (this one I know about personally).  Even though I have had a steady paycheck for over a year now, I still get excited at the promise of free food.

For traveling I was told that I had approximately $40 per day (or whatever was within reason) to spend on food which caused feelings of extreme joy.  I thought I could eat like a king and drink Starbucks every day with that amount of money.  I found myself saying things like, “Make that a grande instead of tall…of course I’ll have dessert…I’ll take the one with sprinkles and glaze…I can’t take that home so I’d better eat it.” The early mornings in the airports and late nights at the client sites also led me to make poor decisions.  I was going out to eat every night, having a few drinks with dinner, not exercising and running on little sleep.  Like a fool I was hoping my metabolism would ramp up and my hips would be immune to airport fast food.  Not too surprisingly, I was wrong.

If someone had sat me down and given the following advice, I wouldn’t still be trying to get rid of the remaining “traveling weight”.  A quick disclaimer: I am not a trainer, nutritionist, dietician, aesthetician or any other professional related to health or fitness.  I am just a busy girl with an average metabolism and a passion for food. 

My first piece of advice is: remember that being exhausted doesn’t mean it is ok to order whatever you want.  Making healthy choices and knowing your body’s limits are essential all of the time, even if you are at the airport at 5:00am on a Monday morning.  Depending on your airport, client site and hotel location, you may not have a lot to choose from.  Most fast food restaurants have their nutritional information posted on the walls or available in a pamphlet.  Look at it and choose something that is low in calories, high in protein and has some sustenance.  Another great source for nutritional information: the internet. 

Secondly, keep your favorite fuel on your person.   I keep a bag of almonds and several luna bars in my laptop case and munch on them when I’m starving.  If you love a certain kind of protein bar, keep some handy.  There is nothing worse than rushing around and missing meals.  When I am starving, I get cranky and am much more likely to make bad decisions.  Another hunger-fighting tip is to find a grocery or convenience store near your hotel or client site and pick up some healthy snacks and lunches.  A girl can only eat salad bar for so many lunches before you break down and get something sinfully wonderful.  Ironically, I work in hospitals and find it hard to make healthy choices in the cafeterias…

A third suggestion is to take advantage of what the hotel has to offer.  If your hotel has a fridge and microwave, grab some of the healthier frozen dinners.  I’m sure my client is happy if this prevents me from eating room service once in a while.  Also, check out the hotel gym or pool and use them.  It is incredibly important to make this a priority for a traveling associate.  Leave your mobile in your room, go to the gym, work it out and clear your mind.  Remember, it is ok to miss a meal out for a good workout.  If you are morning exerciser like me, go for a jog and enjoy the sunrise in a new city (as long as it’s safe!).  When talking about hotel perks, I have to mention the free breakfasts.  The same rules apply to free breakfast as they do to fast food on the corporate card: it will go to your hips just don’t get carried away. 

A little hiccup (literally) I encountered with traveling on a team is that many associates love that “on-the-road” lifestyle, meaning long working days, dinners out and lots of drinks.  My advice is to know your team and know your limits.  I was following the “when in Rome” rule, but many people drink more than I care to on a Tuesday night.  It is always acceptable to say no thanks and head to your room.  It’s better to retire early than drink too much and embarrass yourself.

My next bit of advice is to keep in a positive mindset.  It is easy to let work consume you, but make it a top priority to do things that make YOU happy.  When you are clear-headed and content, you are more likely to treat your body with respect and be a better worker bee.   Whether you jog, read or watch episodes of The Office on Hulu, keep time on your calendar for it.

Lastly, always call your friends and family.  My mother and grandmother worry about me being in such big cities and traveling alone, whereas my father wants to know what wonderful food I ate at dinner.  Regardless of your situation, family and friends help keep you grounded when you are gone over half of your week. 

Have fun in the different cities you visit and enjoy the food.  Just remember to do so in moderation.