The Long Way 'Round

Another haunting photo, some people will recognize this as the graveyard from Hocus Pocus, the Old Burial Hill in Marblehead, Massachusetts.

When I was a kid (and realistically, even now) and I said something obvious, my mother would always say “Light dawns on Marblehead” and now every time she says it I have an image in my head of the sun rising over this graveyard. Movie magic is great and all, but this graveyard is more than meets the theater-goer’s eye. The bodies of real accused witches live here, as are hundreds of Revolutionary soldiers. If you’re ever in town, check out some of the names and dates on the headstones and research the history behind them - you’ll be surprised what (or who) you may find!

The picture that started it all (or at least, the first picture I posted to this blog) - mist begins to lift over La Verna, Italy. 

Quite possibly the most beautiful place on earth, this monastery helped hide 14 Jews during WWII. If you come here and look around carefully, you can find the cave where they were forced to hide during the war. This monastery was founded by Saint Francesco himself, and is said to be the site where he received the stigmata. In addition to the famous ceramic art the monks are known for, La Verna is the site of one of Italy’s most scenic hiking trails. 

I’m attending a “Russia themed” party for New Years Eve, and in honor of this event I’d like to share a “Russia themed” post I’ve been working on.

The summer after graduating high school, I visited a small home in the city of Vladimir in Russia - it belonged to the host family of my favorite teacher from when he completed his Fulbright research project there.

I have never experienced anything else like in Russia. I arrived in Vladimir on a rainy day in late June. The architecture was a mixture of old and new, concrete and brick apartments surrounded by paved streets. In the rain it seemed very bleak to me. It wasn’t until the next day when the clouds parted that I realized how beautiful the medieval town is. We explored some churches in the area and devoured our pickled lunches. Our tour guide bought us non-alcoholic beer to wash them down, and explained that in Russia, they sell it on the streets like soda.

It was also immediately clear that there were a number of homeless people, and you could see them hiding in the nooks of buildings, protecting themselves from the wind and the rain (not unlike what you see here in Boston).

During his time in power, Joseph Stalin heavily focused his attention on the working class and the commuter, following communist tradition. Because of this, there are no parking spaces downtown, and people randomly park their cars, motorcycles, buses, and even limos anywhere they want - the sidewalk seems to be the most popular option. 

In the evening, we went to my former teacher’s host family’s home. A middle aged woman greeted us at the door and introduced us to her mother, who spoke no English. Translating for her mother, the hostess explained why the elderly woman thought Americans were so crazy. “It is not normal for people to smile so much - there is simply no way someone could be that happy all the time”.

Across Russia, it’s an oddity for people to walk around the streets smiling - not an easy habit to kill for a friendly optimist like myself. That said, the people are warm and amicable. Our hostesses told us funny jokes and even paused to try and explain what a homeless person is, because they genuinely believed we didn’t have any in the U.S. We also received an interesting lecture on the concept of pets. In Vladimir, animals are animals - why spend so much money and food on an animal when there are so many people in need?

All in all, it was a truly one-of-a-kind opportunity to compare and contrast a different culture’s social norms, as well as a chance to clarify common stereotypes of both Russians and Americans. 

My favorite part of the stay, having just turned 18 at the time and very eager to begin exploring the perks of adulthood, was when my hostess insisted I try her vodka. Locally distilled, there were a number of tasty, berry-infused concoctions available. I was told it would be an insult to their culture if I had travelled all the way to Vladimir and not tried their local drink of choice.

To this day, I have never had such a smooth sip of vodka. The berry flavors were sweet, but not sugary or overpowering, and it set my expectations for alcohol very high. Though this was 7 years ago, I can still see my hostesses laughing, taste the vodka in my mouth, and feel the crisp evening air as we opened our taxi window on the ride home. 

Happy Halloween! After the three or four trick or treaters finished grabbing their fistfulls of candy (they may not be king-sized, but I stand by the fact that we are clearly the best stop for trick or treating), I decided it was time to lock up, grab a seat on the couch and get back to writing, so here I am folks.

I thought it would be a cute idea to write a bit about the origins of Halloween, then it occurred to me that I hadn’t the slightest clue as to what those were. A quick Google search led to a giant slap in the face.

Did you know that Halloween originated with the Celts? That’s right... Ireland! 

According to this article from the History Channel, it started as a ritual where people would dress in costumes to ward off ghosts, then it sort of snowballed into All Saints Day (November 1st) with a unique “costume” (do dead animal skins count as costumes?) tradition the night before, which became known as All Hallow’s Eve. It wasn’t until the Romans invaded and conquered the land now known as Ireland that the day became associated with the dead. The American conception of Halloween was born in the southern colonies, as the protestants up north were apparently a little too strict for all that costume nonsense (hey without us you wouldn’t have the cult classic Hocus Pocus, so there). 

I can’t believe it... Ireland. Italy. America. The three cultures I most strongly identify with merged over time to create my favorite holiday (and don’t judge me for not knowing the history behind my favorite holiday until today). 

Not to mention, I have spent the last three Halloweens travelling back and forth between the three nations. In fact today marks two years since the Siena/Florence/Milan/Dublin/Limerick fiasco - you can read more about that crazy adventure in some of my previous articles (missed connections, violent breakouts, and the mysterious missing bus; what more could you want in a Halloween read?). 

Is it fate? Destiny? Or have I been having a little too much fun with my ouija board and pumpkin beer lately? I’ll leave it to you to decide, and in the meantime, enjoy this hauntingly accurate history of Halloween: 

It’s been a little over a year since my last post. It has not been an easy year either - a car accident (and massive concussion), my dog - the famous Penny of the Penny Face - had a stroke and passed away the same week I had tonsillitis to the point of hospitalization (my throat closed up… fun), tonsillectomy (#firstsurgery #finally), I’ve moved three and a half times - I could go on.

The half move is from the most recent struggle - hip surgery (#secondsurgery amiright?). I had to move back to my parents for a month because apparently hip surgery means not even being able to sit up for a month, let alone get up and down stairs, shower, walk etc. Fun stuff… actually I’m not being sarcastic… the past two weeks have been the “staycation” I didn’t even know I needed - I’ve had time to reflect on the past year, where I am now, and where I’d like to go. 

After graduating with my Italian and Comparative Literature degrees, I explored a couple of teaching roles and ultimately decided to follow the most obvious, logical path for someone with my work and educational background: Business Development. At least, it was obvious to me - not so much the businesses I applied to.

The thing is, I knew that if I could just explain to the hiring managers why it made perfect sense that an Italian speaking preschool teacher is the ideal candidate for any business role, I’d be able to get my foot in the door. That said, something I quickly learned in the process is that most companies won’t let you get even your smallest toe in the door if the proper qualifications are not spelled out across your resume. 

I got calls - multiple calls - from HR reps telling me to not bother applying to their companies without 3-5 more years of experience or a different degree because I would never be able to work there. But, as anyone who has ever met me will tell you, I am persistent. I am persistent to a painstaking level. The most valuable qualities a person can have, in my opinion, are loyalty, empathy, and persistence, in that order.

So on my first day at one of the biggest enterprise companies in the world, at an internship that was created specifically for me, I pondered the idea of shooting an email over to that rep in Texas who told me I’d never find a job there. I didn’t though - I had better, more exciting things to do. The story as to how I got that job involved some travelling, and is definitely a story I should share with you all, but I’ll save it for later.

Flash forward to December 20th, 2016. My fourth month into my first ever full time job - sales rep at a tech startup (the natural career path of any Italian/Lit major) - and my CEO asked if anyone wanted to buy his tickets to the Patriots game. I’d never been to a football game before (went to an all girls’ high school, sorry U of R but football isn’t a main attraction there either, and Pats tix are so $$$). I couldn’t pass up such a huge discount, and to this day, it’s probably the second best impulse buy I’ve ever made (I’ll get to the best impulse buy in a minute). 

On December 24th, 2016, my best friend and I hopped in her car and made the trek to Gillette Stadium. We grabbed some champagne - the pre-game drink of champions, found our seats, took some fabulous pics (if it’s not on Instagram, did it ever really happen?) and settled in for what turned out to be a fantastic game. Neither of us cared that it rained the whole time, nor did we mind the freezing winds on the walk back to the car - we were still high on life from being that close to Gronk and Brady. 

So we weren’t thinking about rain or ice when we went to get out of the car, that is we weren’t thinking about it until I was lying on the ground two seconds later. Totally ate it. But like I said, I’m persistent. I got up, laughed it off and went on my way. A week later, I felt the bruise on my hip, and remembered my fall. Two weeks later, I noticed that I wasn’t able to walk so well. A week after that I was in agonizing pain, and that’s when I decided to call the doctor. 

I told her it was a sports injury, since it happened after a football game. She and I both thought it was a bone bruise, maybe a pulled muscle, but she sent me to a specialist, since it was concerning that the pain was getting worse with time. Good thing she did because I tore my labrum.

Even the specialist was shocked that someone could have sustained so much damage to their hip, just slipping on black ice. C’est la vie.

Because of how badly I bruised the bone, I couldn’t get my labrum repaired until exactly 15 days ago (October 11, 2017… only took 10 months). 

And here we are, a year after my last post, a year after I started my full time sales job, upon completing a fulfilling internship. After all the rejection I have faced, both early on with my job applications, and the continued rejection that is simply a part of any sales job, I have pushed myself as hard as I can over the last year. 

I’ve moved through the ranks faster than anyone, our head of recruiting bumped into another HR rep that rejected me and even made a point of saying I was one of the top reps at my current company, and I’m hoping to soon earn a spot on the closing team. There’s a lot to be proud of, especially considering how tough of a year it’s been on me physically, but I’ve also been thinking a lot lately about what I’ve sacrificed to get here.

Before my surgery, I was feeling overwhelmed, overworked, and exhausted. I wrote an article on here earlier about feeling the need to run away, escape, and travel when I’m stressed, and it’s safe to say that in the three or four years I’ve been writing here, that hasn’t changed. 

So I stayed up late one night, thought long and hard about where I’d go, what I’d do and in the end, the decision was easy. I went where I always want to go, a place that feels like home, that always helps me clear my head and refuels my faith in humanity.

I went to Ireland. 

“Again?!” my mother asked when I told her. Turns out if you buy tickets 3 weeks in advance, they’re quite affordable (shout out to my office for unlimited vacation days and flexible scheduling).

5 days, 4 nights, new places in old towns. As always, I saw some old friends, and I made some new ones as well (if you’re in an Irish pub, it’s really impossible to walk out without 10 or 20 new pals). I danced, ran through the rain, and kayaked with seals at sunset. 

For the first time ever, I rented a car and had another “first” driving on the left side of the road. 

By the end of my trip, I was ready for my surgery. Ready to lay in bed for a month straight (in case you’re wondering how I have the time to write all this down) and I have quenched enough wanderlust to focus on getting back on my feet, literally. 

My persistence has greatly helped me push through this. I’m healing well, and I’m already planning my next few trips - California, Chicago, Romania, Australia… time to start budgeting ;) 

These words sum up my last few weeks of school. I finally graduated yesterday- the ceremony was chaotic but beautiful, and it came with a few surprises! I learned that not only was I the only person in my year who majored in Comparative Literature, but also that I won an award for excellence in language within the major. To sum up, I feel smart, the University of Rochester thinks I speak English well - thank goodness - and I now have a small bit of money to spend on further travel plans. 

In regards to the third component of my title, my car has been through a troublesome semester. It had the traumatic hit and run experience in March, resulting in the most exquisite duct-tape art you will ever see on a motorized vehicle. I almost prefer the duct-tape to an actual bumper, because other drivers now give me much more space on the freeway. On the drive back from Miami, a rock flew from a truck that was going about 80 mph into my windshield, resulting in a crack that grew and grew until I had to replace the entire window. Then there was the terrorizing turkey incident on my drive from Boston to Rochester in April. Essentially, a bird who almost represented America (even with Benjamin Franklin’s vote, the turkey still lost to the bald eagle) committed suicide on the front of my car. There was blood, there were feathers- I think I screamed in horror for a good ten minutes, tears streaming down my face- it was all very dramatic and I have since stopped eating this delicate poultry. Which leads to the May tire-popping incident. Much less traumatic and resulted in a cute guy from AAA showing me how to put on the spare tire. The drive back to Boston today was scary- I made sure to give trucks plenty of berth and I kept a keen eye out for particularly active fowl- but I did make it home safely.

In the meantime, I am inspired by the opportunities unleashed upon me this week. I can apply for jobs, careers, abroad placements, grants, and I can relax and I can play basketball or my guitar or do whatever tickles my fancy. I am smart, according to my university and, more importantly, according to myself. I love to work with people and I enjoy writing. I am confident in my ability to not only find my niche in the “real world”, but to find a place where I am happy and where I get to do something that I love doing- something that will lead to further travels and new adventures!