tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4174519367233752382011-10-22T02:16:22.004-04:00The Post-Gradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12603438605956989313noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-417451936723375238.post-83643731127586407542011-04-04T13:05:00.003-04:002011-04-06T12:23:24.329-04:002011-04-06T12:23:24.329-04:00

When I first arrived in New York after three months of living in France I forgot all the reasons I had loved this city. In three months I had roamed the streets of Paris, traveled to Barcelona, drove through the French countryside, explored the Normandy coast and gained a new found appreciation for savoring life. The best example I can come up with is one night, over a meal in Normandy, I was

The Post-Gradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12603438605956989313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-417451936723375238.post-3522528702453051522011-03-26T05:34:00.002-04:002011-03-26T05:48:35.348-04:002011-03-26T05:48:35.348-04:00

While walking along the cliffs in Étretat there's a small path that diverges from the main trail and leads vertically down the cliff to a secluded beach below. At first glance the path would turn any one away as it is narrow and equipped with ropes to aid your descent and climb, but as it seems to be my lot in life to take the path less traveled so I took this one. Words don't do this path

The Post-Gradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12603438605956989313noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-417451936723375238.post-3383481002933872232011-03-21T06:01:00.005-04:002011-03-22T07:02:23.530-04:002011-03-22T07:02:23.530-04:00

The brave may not live forever but the cautious do not live at all While driving through the French countryside I was surrounded by fields. The landscape that flew by was beautiful and lush with budding flowers, rolling hills, charming farm houses and farm animals roaming lazily in the grass. After an hour of countryside the fields suddenly gave way to the ocean and I was confronted with a view

The Post-Gradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12603438605956989313noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-417451936723375238.post-80412797806347222242011-03-18T10:33:00.001-04:002011-03-18T13:36:55.522-04:002011-03-18T13:36:55.522-04:00

Omaha Beach today I don’t know if I will ever find the words to describe what it felt like to visit the Normandy beaches and walk along the shores of the D-Day landings. I once read somewhere that a single death is a tragedy while a hundred deaths is a number—a concept too immense to wrap our minds around. When I went to the Normandy beaches it was with history lessons of WWII and movie scenes

The Post-Gradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12603438605956989313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-417451936723375238.post-33653966259339979562011-02-28T16:57:00.001-05:002011-02-28T16:57:39.569-05:002011-02-28T16:57:39.569-05:00

London is expensive & as a new graduate 'expensive' is a word I am shying away from; so in an effort to save money I traded three days of scraping by in London for a road trip through the Loire Valley in France. Loire Valley is riddled with old castles and châteaux that date back to the Renaissance--of the many châteaux the three most famous are Chiverny, Chombard & Chenonceau, the 3 Ch's.

The Post-Gradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12603438605956989313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-417451936723375238.post-77427078284839438922011-02-17T09:13:00.005-05:002011-02-17T13:39:43.855-05:002011-02-17T13:39:43.855-05:00

One of my favorite spots while in Barcelona was Parc Güell. Just like Mercat de la Boqueria captured the flavors of Barcelona, Parc Güell captured the essence of it. This park, which is more like a modern day Alice in Wonderland, draws together the whimsical works of Gaudi, the sounds of Spanish music and a hilltop view of Barcelona as the backdrop. Coming from the back of the park, I first

The Post-Gradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12603438605956989313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-417451936723375238.post-64047667287271402922011-02-16T13:24:00.000-05:002011-02-16T13:24:29.879-05:002011-02-16T13:24:29.879-05:00

One of the things I love about Barcelona is the flavor of the city. I'm not talking about the flavor of the food (although that is divine as well) but the personality of Barcelona. Walking along Barcelona's main avenue, Las Ramblas, it is like stepping into a carnival. Starting at the beginning you are whipped into a frenzy of people snapping photos of the costumed people posing along the street.

The Post-Gradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12603438605956989313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-417451936723375238.post-45419983096166771462011-02-01T08:40:00.013-05:002011-02-04T10:28:09.498-05:002011-02-04T10:28:09.498-05:00

 I get now why Paris is the city of love. On an evening in Paris everything is conducive to romance--the Eiffel Tower glittering, the waters of the Seine reflecting its surroundings, the Champ-Elysee with its lit up Arc de Triomphe and Roue de Paris ferris wheel. As the sun melts away and the pink streaked evening sky takes over, the entirety of Paris is made even more beautiful; but when

The Post-Gradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12603438605956989313noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-417451936723375238.post-4887576304839851972011-01-24T05:28:00.002-05:002011-01-24T05:31:12.642-05:002011-01-24T05:31:12.642-05:00

The tidal island of Mont Saint-Michel rests at the mouth of the Couesnon River in Normandy and is connected to the mainland by a thin, natural land bridge that would become submerged during high tide. Today there is a hydraulic dam that allows uninterrupted access to Mont Saint-Michel, but you can tell by the surrounding beach and rocks how far the water rises to this stony island. Mont

The Post-Gradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12603438605956989313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-417451936723375238.post-68807113196940191422011-01-22T19:32:00.001-05:002011-01-22T19:37:18.151-05:002011-01-22T19:37:18.151-05:00

Within minutes of stepping off the metro in Montmartre I was whipped into a frenzy of people, surrounded by sounds of accordions and bag pipes and sipping on warm red wine or 'vin chaud'...I was in love. Yesterday I roamed the streets of Pigalle, passing such places as the Moulin Rouge, in search of the old Bohemian Paris that inspired such notable artists as Renoir, Picasso and Van Gogh. Pigalle

The Post-Gradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12603438605956989313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-417451936723375238.post-10921027256420888182011-01-22T06:04:00.001-05:002011-01-22T06:06:27.652-05:002011-01-22T06:06:27.652-05:00

The iconic Moulin Rouge rests in Paris's racier part of town, Pigalle, nestled in between sex shops and erotic theaters that line the streets. I had anticipated visiting the Moulin Rouge, seeing it as some sort of homage to old Bohemian Paris and the many artists that frequented the Montmartre/ Pigalle area. In my mind I had envisioned a vintage front where chipped red paint and an antique

The Post-Gradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12603438605956989313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-417451936723375238.post-45346175588233160722011-01-20T09:31:00.008-05:002011-01-21T07:20:45.058-05:002011-01-21T07:20:45.058-05:00

What is the perfect vacation? Is it defined by how many museums you visit and how much history you digest? Or is it summed up by how well you become part of the place you are visiting? Do you measure a good trip in sights seen? Or in steps taken along city streets? Can a vacation simply be enjoying a glass of wine at a sidewalk cafe or is the mark of a good trip only in the amount of knowledge

The Post-Gradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12603438605956989313noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-417451936723375238.post-83062850829966931352011-01-11T13:50:00.002-05:002011-01-13T07:37:14.744-05:002011-01-13T07:37:14.744-05:00

Today I ordered lunch in French. I woke up early  and roamed the streets till I found a quaint café where I ordered deux macaroons, un baguette and un croissant avec formage et saumon. A seemingly simple task to many, but to me it was as though I had passed my first initiation—to explore the streets and speak French without help. I have traveled to different places in the past and beyond seeing

The Post-Gradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12603438605956989313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-417451936723375238.post-66128604356107127182011-01-10T12:56:00.003-05:002011-01-10T13:26:30.443-05:002011-01-10T13:26:30.443-05:00

The city of Rouen isn’t anything that I expected, it is like a cross roads of the old and new, playful and severe. The buildings are bright, cottage-like, as though plucked from an old-time movie set based in the Swiss Alps. The town is vibrant where a turn around a corner reveals quaint merry-go-rounds and playful Ferris wheels set against a backdrop of colorful buildings and historic cathedrals

The Post-Gradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12603438605956989313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-417451936723375238.post-61266519314388595892011-01-07T12:30:00.013-05:002011-01-07T13:27:32.924-05:002011-01-07T13:27:32.924-05:00

There is place in Chicago where the air smells like chocolate; it is near the Hershey factory and when you drive or walk there chocolate smells waft lazily over the usual Windy City smells. Walking along the streets of Corbeil, a town outside Paris, I smelled the fresh bread and desserts of the pâtisserie before I saw it. The modest store front of the pâtisserie gave way to a quaint space where

The Post-Gradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12603438605956989313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-417451936723375238.post-3136481538985706462011-01-06T09:10:00.011-05:002011-01-08T04:26:21.551-05:002011-01-08T04:26:21.551-05:00

Walking around the Eiffel Tower on the Champ de Mars a small detail caught my eye--the Parisian litter on the ground. I have been to New York and live in Chicago and unlike the usual city garbage, the ground around the Eiffel Tower had remnants of rose petals and tops to champagne bottles; the perfect representation of the city itself--romantic and full of life. Paris, La Ville Lumière or the '

The Post-Gradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12603438605956989313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-417451936723375238.post-59348200567244631212010-12-18T15:57:00.000-05:002010-12-18T15:57:49.744-05:002010-12-18T15:57:49.744-05:00

Congratulations Class of 2010! Me, ML & KM--the new graduates :) and my family ended up surprising me and coming! --The Post-Grad

The Post-Gradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12603438605956989313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-417451936723375238.post-62959243296707582422010-12-17T13:40:00.000-05:002010-12-17T13:40:19.564-05:002010-12-17T13:40:19.564-05:00

My university (and soon-to-be Alma mater) requires us to have a pass phrase to access our student email and account information. For years my pass phrase has been 'keep your head up gorgeous'. The phrase came from the beginning of a quote I stumbled upon that said 'Keep your head up gorgeous, they would kill to see you fall.' During tough times the phrase served as a mantra, a token of

The Post-Gradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12603438605956989313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-417451936723375238.post-55179301523075381702010-12-12T01:32:00.000-05:002010-12-12T01:32:07.200-05:002010-12-12T01:32:07.200-05:00

I can see the photo perfectly: my two girlfriends and I in our cream and crimson caps and gowns, huge smiles plastered on our faces, our new Alma Mater's signature fountain or arched gates in the background and off camera our smiling families taking pictures. For years I have imagined the way my graduation would be and now this abstract idea is becoming a reality in less than a week but the

The Post-Gradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12603438605956989313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-417451936723375238.post-23582367348364899302010-12-08T01:51:00.003-05:002010-12-08T01:56:28.580-05:002010-12-08T01:56:28.580-05:00

When job searching there are an elusive few people that are difficult to find but are like Willy Wonka's golden tickets in your quest for work; they are the recruiting and HR people. When applying for jobs at face value (no contact and no reference) it is like sending your resume into outer space--forever floating into oblivion. The problem with online career search engines are the impersonal

The Post-Gradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12603438605956989313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-417451936723375238.post-9290894546879115812010-12-05T18:22:00.008-05:002010-12-06T00:53:59.580-05:002010-12-06T00:53:59.580-05:00

It's done. I have a confirmed ticket to Paris for Monday, January 3rd at 7am. Against the advice and judgement of family imploring me to stay put and take the more financially secure route, I have decided to go to France with or without the wishes of a Bon Voyage. I remember last year having a conversation with my friend, ML about the differences between people who settle and people who dream.

The Post-Gradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12603438605956989313noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-417451936723375238.post-71901726592402190112010-12-03T01:53:00.007-05:002010-12-06T11:41:23.029-05:002010-12-06T11:41:23.029-05:00

Sitting here and listening to Carolina Liar's song, 'Show me what I'm looking for' I have to say these words are resonating with me. Yes world, PLEASE show me what I'm looking for. I have roamed countless job searching sites and applied to every entry-level position ranging from a receptionist to an editorial assistant to a PR/Marketing assistant and let me be the first to say, the post-grad

The Post-Gradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12603438605956989313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-417451936723375238.post-88752342601005192092010-12-01T23:40:00.003-05:002010-12-06T00:54:34.309-05:002010-12-06T00:54:34.309-05:00

My story begins here, today: I am less than three weeks away from graduating college and haven't the slightest idea where the next year will take me. That's a lie, up until today I had (what I thought were solid) plans to travel in France. It seemed (and still does seem) ideal and romantic to jump on a plane with a one-way ticket to Paris and eat croissants, parle Francais and live the life of an

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