Apparently I Love Culturally Significant Crowds

So, it turns out I really love big crowded events that massive amounts of people flock to.  I didn’t realize this until I found myself in DC the weekend of October 30^th, going to Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert’s Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear.  Armed with our posterboard signs, Joya and I walked over to the national mall, where we became so smushed in a crowd of people that we couldn’t even see the jumbo screens set up around the mall, let alone the actual stage where the various performances were taking place.  Sure, we had a few good laughs at some of the wittier signs around us, “Save Jon Stewart, he’s our most important Jew,” and “Mr. Stewart, my mommy says you’re my daddy, but all I want is a hug,” (ok, that was my sign), and “Rally to Restore Santa,” held up by a man dressed as Santa Claus.  But when out of nowhere, Cat Stevens took the stage to perform Peace Train, we were all pretty startled and amazed by what we were about to witness.  First of all, who knew Cat Stevens was allowed back in the country after being put on the no fly list because of his pro-Muslim sentiment?  Second, we never thought we’d hear Cat Stevens sing this song live, in our lifetime.  Third, the performance made us understand what we were doing there.  It didn’t even matter that seconds later, he was interrupted by Ozzy Osbourne playing “Crazy Train,” as part of Colbert’s schtick – we all got the message loud and clear.  Jon Stewart brought this Muslim man on stage, a man who was also known for his song about peace during a time of political and global unrest, quite the antithesis of what Muslims are usually thought of in our country.  It was pretty damn inspiring.

 I went home to New York the next day, only to meet two of my friends an hour after arriving back in the city to march in the annual Village Halloween Parade.  I hadn’t celebrated Halloween much that weekend, and marching in the parade sounded like a fun idea – I had been to the sidelines to watch the parade and it had been a disaster in years past, but marching sounded less intense for some reason.  And it was.  Waving to groups of Asian tourists in my Dorothy costume was one of those incredibly unique New York experiences that I won’t soon forget.  I plan to go again next year, but in a much less generic costume.

This Sunday, my best friend Drew ran the New York City Marathon.  I went to watch the marathon about half a mile from the finish line so I could see her as she passed.  But in the 45 minutes before she came running by, it was really incredible to watch these thousands of people who were about to complete a race that started 4-5 hours earlier, took them through all five boroughs, and was about to give them the feeling of accomplishment that only incredibly dedicated runners can ever obtain in a lifetime.  I even caught a glimpse of the Chilean miner who had been rescued two weeks earlier after being trapped underground for over two months.  Talk about dedication.  Also, walking through the streets after the marathon, whenever we saw people with the signature “burrito” wrapping signifying their completion of the race, we went up to each person to congratulate them.  Some people were wincing in pain and limping, but it seemed to lift their spirits when we, strangers on the street, stopped to tell them how proud we were. 

So apparently I like big crowded events that have widespread meaning and cultural significance.  I guess it’s like having school spirit.  And I’m always going to be a cheerleader for uplifting events that bring all types of people together for one unified cause, from a political rally in the nation’s capital to a silly Halloween parade.

The Girl Effect

I really wish more people knew and/or cared about this problem. I learned in reading Nicholas Kristof's book, Half the Sky, that maternal mortality and young girls being kidnapped and sold into the sex trade are the biggest problems women in the developing world face. And the developing world is a lot larger than the developed world. I know it's easy for people to turn their heads and ignore the problems that exist outside their own backyard, but I urge you to take a moment to think - what if it were you who was born into an Ethiopian village as a baby girl?

The Girl Effect, a wonderful organization I learned about this week while watching the speakers at the UN's Social Good Summit, simplifies the message in this compelling video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1e8xgF0JtVg&feature=youtu.be

When I was 12 years old, my biggest concern was my braces and a math test. What was yours? We're extremely privileged to have been born into this world. Let's do something for those who were not so lucky.

Ok, New Orleans, I finally get it.

My summer of 12 hour workdays came to an end when my team and I traveled to New Orleans to put on a concert commemorating the anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. I'll spare you the details, since I don't want to make this a work related blog, but we basically paid a high level spokesperson (Faith Hill) to perform a concert in New Orleans to honor those who have stayed in the area in the five years since Katrina hit. I wrote about this in communication materials, spoke about it to media and spent months preparing for it, but I don't think I actually GOT it until the evening of the actual concert. See, we made sure the theater was filled with local residents as well as people who worked at relief organizations in the area. About an hour before the concert, we realized a mistake had been made, and we had about 50 extra tickets right in the front orchestra section.

After I got over my panic attack and readjusted some of the seating, I took a handful of tickets, and right before the concert started, I made my way up to the upper balcony section. I went up to a couple and asked if they were with a relief organization. They actually said, "No, we're with the fire department." I looked at them quizzically and said, "Well, that's certainly a relief organization," and handed them two orchestra section tickets. They were amazed, and thanked me before going downstairs to take their upgraded seats. After handing out a few more tickets, word must've spread throughout the upper balcony to what I was doing. One elderly man came over to me and tapped me on the shoulder as I was giving out some more tickets to some folks from Homeland Security. He said to me, "I hate to ask, but is there any way you can upgrade me and my wife? We're sitting all the way up there...and I know you're giving these to relief organizations. I'm from St. Bernard's Project, and I helped save thousands of lives when the hurricane hit." I smiled, and handed him the two tickets I had that were closest to the front. He thanked me, and I said, "no...thank you!" I was thrilled to be the person to give something to this man who had clearly given so much to his community.

Later that evening, as the lights went down and Faith Hill took the stage, I was amazed that my team and I had just put on a large scale concert. But as amazing as that feeling of accomplishment was, the part of the evening that stood out most was being able to give something to that man I met in the upper balcony. In all communication leading up to the concert, we kept saying how this concert was about the people of New Orleans. And as great as it was to have coordinated such a high profile event, what we had been saying all along really held true, the evening wasn't about the theater we had decorated, the production we had coordinated, or the celebrity we had signed on - it was wholeheartedly about the people of the area.

After the concert, my boss took us out to show us the "real New Orleans," on Frenchmen Street. Again, I finally understood what people love about this town. We entered a small, dark bar, where there was a five piece brass band playing and four or five couples dancing in a way I had only seen in old movies. The quickness of their feet, the energy they exerted into the room, you couldn't help but stop and stare...and wish you could dance like that. I felt like I had been transported to the 1940's. And I loved it. After finishing an Abita beer, we headed to the next bar, where there was another brass band playing, and a female singer who had the most amazing voice, again feeling like we had been transported to the 1940's. There was even a piano in the ladies room of this bar. It was hilarious, and incredible - like nothing I had ever seen before.

I finally understand why everyone falls in love with this town. Once I veered away from the chaos of Bourbon Street, met a few locals, and entered a few dark jazz clubs, it all began to make sense. And I won't even get into the part of the evening when we followed the "bicycle balladerist" out of what our cab driver dubbed "the safe zone" and got some po'boys in the ghetto of New Orleans. Another experience I won't soon forget. Our night ended with the Westin room service guy delivering complimentary ice cream to my room at 4 a.m., while I was devouring po'boys and other New Orleans delicacies on my bed with my bosses. Now, where else can you have an experience like that?

A Much Needed Local Mini Vacation

I haven't enjoyed this summer at all. It started off as being filled with one obligatory event after another, disappointing experiences here and there, but then it kicked in to full on insanity when my normal workdays turned into twelve-hour-can't-stop-for-one-second-to-breathe-or-eat-lunch kind of days. Then one morning I woke up to a phone call from my sister that her boyfriend had been hit by a car. He survived but was in critical condition. It was incredibly scary for the first few days until the situation became much less seemingly life threatening. Now he's stuck at home in a neck brace for months, can't move his left arm, and takes daily trips to various doctors. Last week I had heart palpitations and found out all the valves in my heart were leaky. Today my dad was in terrible pain and they think he has kidney stones.


No one is enjoying their summer. We only get three months of good weather and it's at this time that everything seems to be spiraling out of control. I know, it could be worse. Everything is on the mend and will be ok. I finally got to enjoy my summer this weekend for the first time. I went out to fire island with a group of friends and left everything behind. Ironically, it was the most beautiful weekend of the summer. We spent three days sitting on the beach until sunset, barbequing, sitting in the hot tub on our deck and boozing til the sun came up. I almost didn't sign up for this summer share, but even for three days on Long Island, not so far from home, this weekend was the most necessary vacation I've ever needed. Here's the view from our deck. I can't wait to go back in August.

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From Cheesy to Cheesier

Although I can't stand Atlantic City, for some reason I was excited to go New Orleans for the first time on a business trip this week. I was kind of disappointed to find that it was just one big cheesy spring break spot. I'm sure there's local culture somewhere, but I definitely didn't see it. Maybe it was because I stayed right in the French Quarter and didn't know where to go to find the good jazz clubs and the famous New Orleans cuisine - although I did enjoy a delicious breakfast of chicory coffee and beignets at Cafe Du Monde. I also don't recommend going in July, the humidity was like nothing I had ever experienced. I broke into a sweat upon exiting my hotel room, and walking around was brutal. I took three showers in one morning so I wouldn't be a complete disaster when arriving at the venue I was checking out for our upcoming work event. I did stumble upon one really beautiful art gallery that featured local artists, mostly focused on jazz paintings and colorful fish murals. They were displayed in an outdoor garden which was really lovely to browse in.

Through the disappointing experience of seeing this new place I had always been curious about, I wondered if living in New York just made me completely immune to being surprised and impressed by anything anymore. Even the beautiful cathedral in Jackson Square, slightly removed from the cheesiness of Bourbon Street, was only okay to me - it looked like a less impressive version of the national cathedral in D.C. I didn't even see the damn oil spill. At least that would've made me feel relevant and connected to something that's going on in the world right now. Hopefully when I return next month for the actual work event, I get to explore more of this city and find out what the big deal is...

Atlantic City

It's hot and sticky out, and Atlantic City might be one of my least favorite places, but we're really lucky to be here this weekend because it's my grandma's 90th birthday, and she loves gambling. Needing a break from the casinos, we decided to take a walk on the boardwalk.

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Pure Yoga Event benefiting Nest

Nest was featured at a Pure Yoga event on the Upper East Side a few weeks ago. The event showcased several women entrepreneurs, mostly beauty, health and wellness professionals, and in an effort to help other women based businesses around the world, all proceeds went to Nest.

At the event, I was interviewed by Cortney Renee, a model/blogger with a passion for philanthropy. She writes about companies that work towards making a difference. I look very short next to her. Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nbZPDqdg_cc&feature=player_embedded

My proud mom moment

It's a truly amazing feeling when you see a stranger walking down the streets of NYC wearing a bag made by the people you work with and met personally in Guatemala. Wow. And apologies to this woman who I just accosted.

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East Village Garden Party

From the minute I set foot in New York after returning from Morocco – actually, from the bus in Morocco when we started full-fledged event planning via Joya's blackberry – all free time has been spent planning our Nest spring event. Joya had the brilliant idea to become a member of a beautiful garden in the East Village so she could rent out the space to hold our event. With weeks of planning, numerous pleas to the rest of the board to donate anything they could, securing food sponsors, sourcing opaque cups per the garden's requirements, finding tables, and even sourcing electricity from the bar next door, it was quite a feat. Exhausting, but on the evening of May 25^th, it all came together beautifully. I left work early to set up, and with the help of my parents who drove in from Long Island with folding tables to place product, food and drinks on, we were up and running by the start time of 6:30 p.m.

The weather was amazing – temps in the 70's, not a cloud in the sky. My amazingly generous friend Matt brought his band Yellowcake, who came up with a Latin/Funk set which set the atmosphere for this wonderful summer evening. It was great to see some of the other NYC board members who I hadn't seen in months, and it was wonderful to finally meet some of our enthusiastic volunteers in person after emailing back and forth for so long. I may have even hooked one girl up with a job and another up with a potential love connection. Talk about the benefits of networking.

The next morning, I woke up to an email from Rebecca about the success of the event. Because of the money raised at this one event, we were able to fund a new community of artists in Kenya who were on our waiting list – as well as an overall business curriculum that had been in the works for a long time now. As she put it, "One fun night here (albeit with hard work) = a clear first step towards sustainability for women halfway around this sphere we live on."

More Photos: http://www.facebook.com/?ref=home#!/album.php?aid=176365&id=8997143605&ref=pb

Video: http://www.youtube.com/user/NestEventMay2010

Remembering an Old Friend

There are people who help you along your journey in life that you'll never forget. Along the way, you find people who understand you inside and out, who challenge you to realize your full potential, who make you understand things about yourself you may never have realized.

Robin was one of these people. She was also a journalism student at the University of Maryland. She was hilarious. You couldn't be in her presence without being entranced by her energy. She was also one of the most phenomenal writers I've ever known. She was my best friend in the whole world. She became part of my family. She looked more like my little sister than I did. She came to all of my family events after her mom moved to North Carolina. I connected her to her very first job, and introduced her to her college boyfriend. I could tell her anything without her passing judgment. She always wanted the best for me, even after we lost touch.

She was my college roommate, and my very first roommate in Manhattan. Our first year living on our own in New York was challenging – she was messy and emotional and I was anal about cleanliness and uncomfortable dealing with emotions – mine or anyone else's. Through the challenges, we had some amazing memories of that first year in the city. We sat on our couch in our tiny apartment watching America's Next Top Model and binging on junk food. We spent Thursday nights going to local bars in our neighborhood and singing the theme song to Winnie the Pooh on our way home. In college, we wanted to open up a new restaurant chain next to the Potbelly's in College Park called "Fatbelly's – we're fatter than you." I have lots of memories with Robin through college and afterwards, but these are the memories that were shared only between the two of us. And now that she's not around, I need to cling to these memories because I'm the only one in the living world that can preserve them.

Robin died earlier this year. She was 25. She was engaged.

I wasn't part of Robin's life during her last year on earth, but we still talked every once in awhile and I always had updates on her life through mutual friends. Her death shook us all. To know that we could lose someone so quickly sent us all into shock. Now, I see her every day. She is walking down the street in Manhattan; she is sitting on the plane next to me. I close my eyes and she is rolling around on our couch on the Upper East side, laughing hysterically. She is curling up with me in my bed, watching a movie late at night. She is gushing about her first day at Conde Nast and her encounters with Anna Wintour in the elevator. She is pulling clothes out of my closet, dressing me in outfits I never would have thought to put together. She is letting me cry to her about something trivial.

Today is Robin's birthday. I stare at the picture of us from the day we moved into our very first apartment, and I hope that wherever she is, she knows how much she meant to me.

Also, check out Don's tribute to Robin

FEED Guatemala Bag Launch at Lord & Taylor

Last week, I met Rebecca after work and we headed to Lord & Taylor for an epic moment in Nest history. We attended the launch party of the limited edition FEED Guatemala bags. FEED is an organization that donates a percentage of their sales to help fight child hunger in developing nations. Rebecca met the founders, Ellen and Lauren, at an event we threw at the Ralph Lauren Rugby store last summer, and their friendship evolved into a partnership where the FEED ladies agreed to create a limited edition line of bags that were to be handmade by the artisans Nest works with in Guatemala.

After a year of hard work and collaboration, these bags were finally produced and shipped to Lord & Taylor, where they are now being sold exclusively. Seeing our bags on display at this department store reminded me that it was that very trip to Guatemala in 2008 that transformed my own personal involvement with Nest into what it is today – needless to say, that trip changed my life.

I wear my FEED Guatemala bag every day now, and find any excuse to tell people the story behind it. I'm like a proud mother, gushing over the pattern and handiwork of the bag, and mostly over the label inside that reads, "Handmade by Nest Artisans in Guatemala," with our logo and website stitched right into it. Yes, maybe I'm a little obsessed, but wouldn't you be?

SURevolution Dinner Party

Last week, I was fortunate enough to attend a dinner party at the SURevolution showroom. Founder Marcella Echavarria has travelled all over the world and collected unique jewelry, bags, furniture, kitchenware and other sustainable goods from artisans in South America, Africa, India and more. Everything is handmade, and the beautiful showroom overlooking Little Italy was the perfect setting for our small gathering.

I first saw Tamara, the amazing interior designer who sits on our board, who I hadn't seen in months. While we caught up, she told me all about a psychic she had been talking to, who had given her an interesting perspective on life, business and love. She mentioned how the psychic could feel the energy about the people around you and could tell just from reading your energy how they relate to you in a positive or negative way. As hesitant as I was to believe any of this, by the end of our conversation she had me taking down the psychic's number and seriously considering calling her.

Then, we met a woman from Chile who drew portraits based on the psychic energy of a person.

Eventually, I was introduced to Anna, who is throwing a Yoga event next week. Anna is a wellness consultant who got her Yoga studio to agree to donate all proceeds of their upcoming health and wellness event to Nest.

I also met Katharine, who has her own line of beauty products that use Aragon oil from Morocco. She usually travels to Agadir to get the oil for her products, but after I tell her about Tim's community in Tigmijou and the Aragon oil they produce, I suggest she start buying from them. She's immediately interested, and I go home and introduce them via email, thrilled to make any excuse to reach out to Tim and feel a connection... to Morocco.

Rebecca makes a speech to all the guests and tells the story of Lolita, the loan recipient from India who fell prey to the loan shark after she broke her leg and couldn't work to support her family following the death of her husband. Luckily, Nest was able to help her out of this situation and help Lolita create a new life for herself and her family.

As I was trying on some of Marcella's beautiful gold plated leaf bracelets, I laughed as a woman from Columbia made fun of our board member Ian, joking that he looked just like Juanez, the Columbian pop star. Once again I found myself surrounded by fascinating people, amazing sustainable goods and the satisfaction of knowing we were all gathered together for a good cause.

How My Friends and Family Inspired Me When I Returned From Morocco

Adjusting back to the U.S. after our amazing journey to Morocco went more smoothly than anticipated. The transition was made easier by the enthusiasm my friends and family showed in listening to me go on and on about my trip, looking through hundreds of photos, and reading the in-depth recaps I posted on this site.

But I couldn't have expected how much the people around me were about to surprise, overwhelm, shock and inspire me two weeks after my return. Remember that fundraiser we talked about doing for Rachida so she could rebuild her house and her loom that were lost in the fire? Well, that fundraiser went live on our website on May 3^rd. I sent around an email to my friends and family, telling them about Rachida and what had happened, and asked them to throw in a little money towards rebuilding if they could.

A little more than 24 hours later, I was astounded by the generosity these people showed. By May 4^th, we had raised enough money to rebuild Rachida's home, and more than half of those funds came from my friends and family – my two amazing roommates and some of my favorite brides-to-be, my incredible mother, and even an old friend in St. Louis. Even a dear friend in danger of losing her job contributed. A few ex boyfriends even kicked in some cash – and donated very generous amounts! You never know who will come through and rally together when you believe in a wonderful cause that has genuinely touched all our lives.

Needless to say, I'm incredibly lucky to surround myself with these people every day, and they've certainly made the post-Moroccan transition much more bearable.

Morocco, Day 10 - Marrakesh to New York

The last night in Morocco, we sit down to dinner and talk about our trip highlights. Every single person reminisces about a memory they had with a loan recipient, either in Brian's village of Midelt, Tim's village of Tigmijou, or meeting Naima from Khenifra at the craft fair. I talked to Brian on the bus earlier that evening, about what he would do when he gets back to the US. He wants to go to business school, or maybe work for US Aid. I can't imagine what it will be like for him to come back to the US and assimilate after spending so much time in this beautiful place, adapting to Moroccan culture for so many years. I'm worried about how I'm going to adjust after only ten days.

We say our goodbyes after breakfast and leave for the Marrakesh airport. The airport is filled with stranded European travelers. Joya's boarding pass reads "Joshua," but she gets through security anyway.

About ten hours later, I'm looking out the window of the plane as we pass over Long Island. I'm not sure I'm ready for this. We're landing at JFK in ten minutes and I know I won't be happy to go back to real life, to work, to the materialistic culture of NYC. But even here at home, I still have Nest. And I need to keep this experience close over the next few weeks…and for the rest of my life. Knowing what I do, when I'm running around the city trying to get restaurants to donate food to our event, when I'm stressing out trying to convince venues to host our event at no cost, I have to sit back and remember that every little effort we make helps the women we personally met here, who invited us into their homes and broke bread with us – knowing what we do every day helps them and people like them – that will make the post vacation transition more bearable, and will bring me back to how I felt in Morocco. This is why I do this, why all these amazing people around the world have come together for this cause. This trip made me realize that I'm living my dream, and helping others do the same.

Morocco, Day 9 - Tigmijou

April 19 - It is a rough morning. We're all feeling the effects of the night before, and Joya almost kills me when I open the window to light the room (to find the advil and antacids). We go upstairs to breakfast on the roof and scarf down croissants, yogurt, crepes and assorted pastries. Joya and Kate want to order five more rounds of coffee, but I need air. I go to stand at the railing where I'm looking out at the ocean. I spend about a half hour out there, enjoying the beauty of the scenery in front of me. I can't remember when I last felt this peaceful. I try to etch this morning into my memory so I can revisit it for years to come.

I finally pull myself away from this scene to go with Rebecca, Kate, Joya and the boys to the souk to buy olives, fruits and nuts to give the women of TIgmijou – they want to serve us food when we visit, but they don't have the means to provide enough food to our group of 14. I buy a package of bracelets to give out to the girls and young children of this village. We spend the rest of our morning walking on the beach, looking at the camels and horses around us, taking in a view of the "castle in the sand" Jimi Hendrix supposedly wrote the song after, Joya riding a horse on the beach and some seashell collecting, we sit down to an outdoor lunch of mixed salads and tea.

The road to Tigmijou is incredibly scenic, with rolling hills and wildflowers of red, yellow and purple. The village is small, with four little clusters of houses. Tim lives in a house on a hill, a little removed from the rest of the village. We see three teenage girls giggling at us as we walk up the path to his house. We can't go inside because it seems as though his roof has fallen over in the week he's been gone. We walk through a meadow to get to the house of the family we're going to visit. Along the walk, we pass a stray donkey grazing in the meadow. We enter a hut, built in the same Moroccan style of homes and guest houses we've been seeing – a structure with an open courtyard in the middle. Upon peering into the home, we see two young children – a boy and a girl, giggling and laughing and running up to us, then bashfully running away when we wave and smile at them. We enter into the courtyard and introduce ourselves to the women, kissing them twice on each cheek. We peer into one dark room where a woman is sitting at her loom, already strung. She is rapidly weaving the water reeds through the loom. Hicham, Tim's young artisan who we met at the craft fair, says hello to all of us and Tim explains that all these people are part of Hicham's family. We peer into their bedroom, with no door and rugs laid out for them to sleep on. The next room is the storage room, filled with these magnificent, completed water reed bags. We sell them back in the U.S. as market bags. My mother will purchase four of these bags from Nest's website after hearing this story.

We enter another room off the courtyard, removing our shoes first. We sit around a bench with cushions and the women bring us the olives and fruits we purchased in Essouria. They also bring us bread and olive oil. I'm on the far side of the room – most of the women are sitting at the other end of the room near Tim and Brian, the only Arabic speaking people in the group. One of the family members comes over and sits near me. She starts breaking the bread and motioning for me to eat. I take a bite and say "beneen," one of the two Arabic words I've learned – meaning delicious. The little toddler girl walks into the room and bursts into giggles. Everyone is laughing and smiling at her. The woman next to me is also laughing, and we exchange a glance, which sends us into a whole new fit of laughter. She tells me to eat more and I obey. I point to a water reed bag sitting next to her and ask if she made it (using hand motions). She nods and smiles. A child's laughter, food, art, these are all universally appreciated. I couldn't verbally communicate with this woman, but we were able to carry out an entire conversation while eating in her home.

Tim goes around and tells us about each of the women, how they are all related, and explains that they have a wedding to go to that evening because one of the girls from their town is marrying a man from the next village. When we're done, we all walk out of the room, slip back into our shoes, and the women lead us to another house with a loom in it. I give out bracelets as we pass little girls and teenagers on our walk through another field of wildflowers. We take a quick look at the loom, but our driver is getting angry that we've taken too long, and threatens to leave without us if we don't get on the bus immediately. He actually begins removing our bags from the bus at one point. Moroccans make their own rules. We say goodbye to the women, apologizing for our abrupt departure, and as we pile onto the bus a group of small boys laugh and bully each other as they watch us. Again, behaviors that transcend languages and continents.

Morocco, Day 8 - Essouria

April 18^th – Today we leave Marrakesh to visit Essouria in the south, a lovely beach town close to Tim's remote village of Tigmijou. The three hour ride seems insanely short after the previous seven hour journeys up and down the mountains. We arrive in Essouria and once again are staying in a beautiful Riad. We go up to our room and look out the windows in the hall to see ocean and waves crashing on rocks and jetties stretching out from the coast here on the other side of the Atlantic. We go up to the roof and find an even more amazing view – looking out to the ocean on three sides, with the colorful rooftops of the city behind us.

We go out into the town and sit down at a seafood stand on the water. This stand has a display of raw fish, which I can't stand the smell of. I'm slightly hesitant to eat here. I sit down with the rest of the group and soon find myself digging meat out of odd looking types of shellfish, some unidentifiable, but all delicious. We eat grilled calamari and sea bass fresh from the ocean next to us. I even muster up the courage to try sea urchin. After lunch, we walk around the town and pop into the small shops we see. Rebecca is having a tough time bargaining over a lantern she really wants. We stop at a rooftop wine bar to enjoy the sunset. We spot Tim and Brian sitting on the sea wall, enjoying the same view. A group of Irish people next to our table ask if we're also stuck in Essouria because of the airport situation in Europe. We comment that it wouldn't be tragic to find ourselves stuck here for a few extra days.

After dinner, we go back to the hotel with several bottles of wine and head up to the roof. The stars and the ocean provide an incredible setting for this late night gathering. Kate, Joya, Rebecca and I lay out on lawn chairs. We light candles so there's a bit more illumination than just the stars. At one point, Rebecca pulls me aside and says how appreciative she is of all the work I do for Nest year round. I get a little teary eyed as she talks. It sounds stupid, but I never truly took the time to think about how what we do affects the people we've met here. As we go through the process of planning an event back in the U.S., I'm not thinking as I try to secure food sponsors about the woman who will send her child to school because of that event. I never stop to think about the effect one person can have, and the effect I've personally had over the years. I guess I should've realized this two years ago, when Rebecca asked me to step up as president of the NYC board, but it's not until now that I'm really seeing the big picture. I've always thought of Nest as my hobby, something I can feel good about doing in my spare time, and truly proud to be part of it, but it's not often enough that I stop to think about the difference we make across the globe.

We walk back to the group and Han gives me and Rebecca a huge hug. Rebecca comments that she loves how most Nest people are huggers. I remark that I'm usually not this touchy feely with people. They laugh and I think about how emotional I've gotten during this trip, particularly tonight, and I assume it must be the atmosphere, the vacation, the wine, or the overall sense of connection to the women we've spent so much time with on this trip, both Moroccan and American.

Morocco, Day 7 - The Farm

April 17^th - We sit by the pool until it's time to head to Ben's farm. We take the fifteen minute journey down a winding dirt road and have to get out and walk the last mile because our bus won't fit on this path anymore. We arrive and are greeted by two black labs. We go inside the magnificent, brightly painted yellow gate, to see olive trees extending as far as we can see, with horses, chickens and black labs milling around the front area. They all seemed to roam freely together, and aside from a few animals, none were really caged in separate areas or locked up in pens or barns.

The first thing we do is make lunch. Ben serves us goat cheese with bread and olive oil, which we eat at an outdoor wooden picnic table. When we're done, Ben brings us some fresh vegetables from the garden – zucchini, spinach, carrots, squash, red peppers and potatoes. We all pitch in washing and cutting the vegetables. We put the scraps into a bag for the rabbits. Ben shows us the three ceramic stoves on the ground – the highest one is Indian, then the middle level is an Arab style oven and the one on the ground is a Jewish style oven. We place the freshly cut vegetables into a colorful display in the tagine bowl on the table. I do the honors of placing the cone shaped cover over the tagine and after Jenny helps light a fire, we place the tagine onto the Jewish style oven. While lunch is cooking, we go out onto the farm. It is line with olive trees and there are small burrows for the rabbits beneath the trees. We see more and more animals - rabbits, ducks, swans and more chickens as we make our way towards the back of the farm. Ben talks about the mating habits of the rabbits. He shows where they line up at night, and that when it rains, he can expect a lot more baby rabbits. We hold a baby bunny. He shows us the olive buds up close. He uses no pesticides on his farm. Ben explains that if you are good to nature, it is good to you. And we have to stop taking so much and start giving some back. He talked about building a few small huts out in the fields and allowing people to camp in them overnight and just enjoy nature as it is.

We walk back past the horses and over to Ben's shed and there is a beautiful white stallion. He tells us this stallion makes him a lot of money. Then he takes us to a small shed, where we see twelve adorable baby labs. We step right into the puppy den, and start picking up the little yellow and black labs – their mother is a yellow lab, and father is a black lab. They are the most amazing puppies I've ever seen – and so many at once! After taking tons of photos and watching the puppies nurse from their mother, we are able to pull ourselves away from the pups to go eat the lunch we have prepared.

We walk up onto a colorfully painted terrace overlooking the entire farm to eat. The completed tagine was absolutely delicious. We learn a bit more about Ben during this meal- he was born in France and grew up in Australia. His brother still lives in Australia, and runs two Earth Café's there. Erin, a board member from San Francisco, is also a restaurant owner, and she found it fascinating that in Ben's five years of being in Morocco, he had done so much with the farm and his restaurant. Today happened to be Erin's birthday and the farmhands came upstairs with pastries and lit a candle for her. Then they presented her with a beautiful bouquet of roses. After the food and the birthday celebration, we took a quick visit to the olive press to see how olive oil is made. After saying goodbye to Ben, we head back to the hotel to get ready for dinner. For a minute back in our room, we turn on the BBC since it's the only English speaking channel, and we see that earlier this morning, a dormant volcano in Iceland has erupted for the first time in 200 years. All of Europe was covered by a cloud of dust, and every airport from Switzerland to Spain, had closed. Half our group was planning to head home through European airports. We weren't leaving for another three days, but everyone grew concerned. Jenny actually stayed home from dinner that night to work out her travel – as a flight attendant, she always flies standby and all the flights she was hoping to get on were now full.

We go to a Thai place for dinner that night. Like every other restaurant, the décor was grandiose, with intricate mosaics running from floor to ceiling with a huge, ornate lantern hanging in the middle. There is a fire pit in the middle of this restaurant and during the first course, the music gets overwhelmingly loud, and right next to the fire pit we see a Michael Jackson impersonator on stilts, dancing to Billy Jean. Very authentic Moroccan. Later, a fire eater does a performance for us, and then a drummer. Our group goes into the middle of the restaurant and starts dancing during the drummer's performance, and I take a tambourine from the restaurant owner's hand and play it alongside the drummer for the remainder of the night.

Washing and cutting vegetables for the tagine

Beautiful arrangement of fresh vegetables in the tagine

Our tagine cooking

Olive buds from the trees

Puppies

Morocco, Day 6 - Marrakesh Craft Fair

April 16^th – We are in Marrakesh at the beautiful Eden Andalou Resort and Spa. There are European families everywhere and it feels a little like a Moroccan Kutsher's – a Catskill Mountains family resort I used to go to on family vacations as a child. This is confirmed when we see the jazz club and buffet style dining room. Not to mention the French children running around the resort. Watch out for those rugs, kids. We spend a little time by the pool before heading to the craft fair.

At the fair, we see a huge variety of Moroccan artisan products from dolls to jewelry, bags and of course, rugs. The fair takes place in the Artisana building, a government owned building that houses shops for various artists. The shop owners are sharing their space today with these artisans that have traveled from all over Morocco in less than desirable conditions to try and sell their crafts to the tourists and locals that wander through this central area of Marrakesh. All three of the artisans we loan to in this country are showing their crafts here. First, there's Hayat and Fatime with their rugs, bags, and pillowcases that arrived in Marrakesh via our bus. Second, we see Tim's artisans showing their water reed bags. We're going to visit his small village of Tigmijou in a few days. Third, there's the Khenifra cooperative led by Naima, showing their cloth bead jewelry. I'm fascinated by these necklaces that are created from traditional Moroccan beads and woven together to create a beautifully patterned and incredibly unique necklace. We learn that it was actually the old Peace Corps volunteer who lived in their village that came up with this idea. I purchase about ten of these necklaces from Naima, unsure if I'll be able to give some of them away as gifts when I return home.

Brian asks us to walk around and assess each booth, giving feedback on the products and presentation. I walk around with Rebecca, Kate and Joya, and while I give my opinions on what I'm seeing, this is mostly a lesson in product development for me. Everyone seems to have much more expertise on what looks presentable, what could be improved and how each product could be adjusted to be sold in the U.S. market. I'm amazed by Rebecca's critical eye, and try to view these crafts through her lens. We return to Naima's booth, and she shows us some samples she made for Rebecca to sell on the Nest website. She also shows us a few clusters of beads she's sewn together, and positions it as a potential for creating a new necklace. I admire one of these bead clusters, and place it on my finger, demonstrating that it could also be worn as a colorful cocktail ring. Naima loves this idea, and taps the other woman from her cooperative to point out what I've done.

We return to Earth Café for lunch and once again meet Ben, the owner. We order another delicious assortment of salads, rice noodles, goat cheese filled pastillas and more. Ben invites us to his farm once again and we agree to go the next day.

After lunch, we go to the famous Jardin Majorelle, where the well known artist Majorelle spent his time and after he died in the 60's, Yves St. Laurent moved in and took over caring for the property. He set up a trust so the gardens could be opened to the public and tended for years to come. We are blown away by the beauty of this place, with varieties of purples, blues, pinks and colors I've never seen in real life before - seen in grandiose trees to small plants coming up from the ground. There are also fountains and ponds and a vibrant blue and yellow building, which must have served as the home of those who lived on this property. I allow myself to imagine myself living here – it's not a bad fantasy at all.

Eden Andalou Hotel

Rebecca with Hayat and Fatime at the Craft Fair

Naima and her beautiful cloth necklaces

Me and Jenny at Jardin Majorelle

Morocco, Day 5 - Midelt to Marrakesh

April 15 - The next morning, we invite the women from the cooperative to come meet us at the hotel for breakfast and we conduct interviews with them. They are sitting on a couch in the lobby after breakfast filming their interviews when I walk over. I notice they are currently filming, and I try to jump onto the rug nearby since my sneakers are making a disruptive squeaking noise against the floor. I flip over and fall completely on my back, the thud of my fall making a much louder sound than the squeaking shoes. I look up to see Brian and Hayat in fits of laughter, with the interview completely derailed. Three days later in Marrakesh, they are still making fun of me for this incident.

Back in the lobby, we compose ourselves and continue the interviews. Rachida, sitting next to Hayat, listens as Hayat (the president and only English speaking member of the cooperative) tells the story of how Rachida’s house burned down a few months ago, completely ruining the rugs she had made and destroying the loom she used to create new rugs. Essentially, she lost her livelihood in that fire. She can’t work now, and on top of that, her husband is divorcing her.Rachida starts to cry. Rebecca puts her hand on Rachida’s. I look next to me, and Erin has tears streaming down her face. Of course, I well up. Sadness and heartbreak – just one more thing that transcends languages and cultures. Later that night at dinner, we discuss doing a fundraiser for Rachida to help her get a new loom to replace the one she lost in the fire.

The rest of the day is spent on the bus, driving to Marrakesh for the craft fair. Our new friends, Hayat and Fatime, who will be representing their cooperative at the fair, join us as we pile onto the minibus. We load not only our luggage, but the product they plan to sell at the fair – the rugs, bags, and pillowcases. We drive past the beautiful mountains, again passing herds of sheep and goats along the way. We drive through a rainstorm, and Kate and I start humming Toto’s Africa.After the rainstorm, an enormous rainbow stretches across the sky, touching down on the flat land on each side. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a full rainbow like that before, with the entire upside down “U” shape from beginning to end. I press my face against the window until it fades.

Morocco, Day 4 - Fes and Midelt

April 14th - We wake up and Rebecca leads us in a brief yoga practice in the lobby of our beautiful Riad. We enjoy a breakfast of homemade yogurt, fruit and croissants. We leave the Riad and proceed to the famous tanneries, where they cut and dye leather. We visit the shop where Nest's leather bags are made, and Rebecca speaks to the men for a long time about making some changes to the design based on the sample they had provided her with. The leather bags are paired with patterns from our rug weaving cooperative in Midelt, and we're trying to figure out a way to adjust the design to make it more appealing to a U.S. market.

We walk outside to the roof of the shop that overlooks the tanneries. In one area, they are washing the leather; in another they are cutting the skins. In one central area, there are large vats full of colorful dyes. You have to hold a mint leaf to your nose to mask the smell, since the dye is created using pigeon stool. After observing this wonderful scene for awhile, I go back into the shop and again bring out my stellar bargaining skills to purchase a beautiful orange pair of shoes.

The drive to Midelt is breathtaking, with views of mountains, fields and wildflowers everywhere. We stop the van to let some sheep cross, and the herder picks up a baby sheep and gives it to our driver. Joya is at the front of the bus in an instant, and takes the baby sheep in her arms. Kate holds it too, since she's also a lover of sheep. Have you heard about her Yurt project? We give the sheep back to the herder (the mama sheep is not too pleased) and continue our journey.

Once in Midelt, we park on a narrow street and are ushered through a door, greeted by a number of traditional looking Muslim women with head coverings, long skirts and some with long grey tattoos down the middle of their faces. I'm told this tattoo is an ancient Berber symbol for marriage. They kiss us twice on each cheek and we enter the home. We sit around three large tables and are served chicken, bread, cous cous, carrots, fruit and an abundance of it. After dinner, we see the women bring out a few brightly colored handheld drums. The music, dancing and singing begins, and this Jewish white girl finds herself in the home of traditional Muslim women, dancing with her friends and family the way she does with her roommates back in NYC.

And this is why I do what I do. The rest of the evening was unforgettable. We visited the cooperative that Hayat founded and where the other women work alongside her. At some point, I mention to Hayat that I want to try to get her cooperative into rug trade magazines back in the U.S. I hope I can actually do this. We return to her friend's house, where the women are still dancing and singing, and one woman gives us henna tattoos. They serve us tea and dessert.

At some point in between a woman teaching me how to do their shrieking technique and playing with another's little girl, I realize why I spend so much of my free time doing things for Nest, why I spent so much of my savings to come to Morocco and meet these women. As I relay these thoughts back to the group at the hotel, I know we've all come to the same conclusion – we are part of something phenomenal. Rebecca sheds a few tears as she talks about the women we met today. Most of them are unmarried or divorced, mostly because, according to Hayat, the men don't work as hard. Clearly to these women, hard work is a huge value. I think about how this relates to my own life and what I've seen in America. I suppose the laziness of the male species transcends cultures. Though it does seem that our American Peace Corps volunteers certainly break this mold. But I digress. Rebecca is overcome with emotion because she is so happy we made a difference in the lives of the women we just met. She's thrilled that there are 14 women around her that share her passion and have just connected on a deep personal level with the women they've been helping from their hometowns back in the U.S. by throwing parties and fundraisers. This is a whole other level from admiring the pretty jewelry we buy from the website and sell at our NYC events. She tells the story about how Hayat was able to go to a rug fair in Germany earlier this year, probably the first time someone from her village has ever left Morocco, to show her cooperative's rugs to an international market. She is able, despite cultural and religious constraints, to be an independent business woman in her village. And Nest has a big role in that, all stemming from our little parties and fundraisers and the pretty things we sell back in the U.S.

Me and Fatime

Playing the drums

The tanneries in Fes

Morocco, Day 3 - Fes

April 14^th - We wake up at 5:30 a.m. and board our little tour bus. It's a seven hour drive north to Fes. The trip is a scenic drive through Moroccan fields and mountains. It's wildflower season and we see varieties everywhere of yellows, reds and blues. Someone yells that they want to lie in a field of poppies. I agree. We are driving in the middle of nowhere and see the first cluster of huts we've seen for hours. There is one small shop in this cluster, with two signs outside. One says Coca Cola, one says Tide. No matter how far you go, work will always follow you.

We arrive in Fes after our long trip, and enter the magnificent Riad Tizwa. A redhead comes bounding down the steps, and we drop our luggage and run to hug Joya, who has finally made it to Morocco after her demanding legal job almost prevented her from taking the trip she had been looking forward to for months. She takes me to our room, which has a canopy bed with closeable curtains, a fireplace, and an intricate Moroccan lantern hanging from the ceiling. The bedroom windows look down into the hotel lobby, where the rest of our group is still getting settled and finding their rooms.

We leave the Riad to visit the famed Fes Souks, which are exactly as I imagined – crowded alleyways with shopkeepers trying to sell you everything from fruits, spices, camel meat, jewelry, clothing, shoes, herbs and more. At first I didn't see anything I wanted to buy in these shops, although I was taking notice of some mirrors with beautifully decorated mosaic patterned frames. Some of them had little doors on them that opened to reveal the mirror, and many of them had a distinct orange color that I adored. I finally came across one that I decided I must have, with an orange and gold border. I'm told the orange is camel bone with henna dye. I bargain the shopkeeper down to half of what he first asked for, so I probably got a reasonable price for a white tourist. We make our way back through the souks to the clock tower café, where we eat couscous, vegetables, cheese, fruits, almond, banana and date shakes, and…camel meat.

Camel Head in the Souks
Archway leading to the market

Joya relaxing under a lemon tree after her long journey

Morocco, Day 2

April 12^th – We all wake up at different times and meet in the sunny courtyard. I'm sitting there with my legs up on a chair when Rebecca, Kate and the boys find me. We have one more day of leisure in Marrakesh before our entire group arrives and we start traveling around the country to meet the Nest loan recipients we've come all this way to meet. We plan to take full advantage of this time by exploring traditional Moroccan spa techniques, right here in the hotel. Once downstairs in the spa, we change into our bathing suits and go into the steamroom changing area. We have signed up for Hammam, the traditional Moroccan scrub. I'm not quite sure what this means yet, but people rave about it so I agree to try it. Before we enter the steamroom, the spa woman instructs us to remove our bathing suit tops. None of us are comfortable with this, but we do as we're told. The steamroom is beautiful, with a little candle shrine in the corner and four wooden "beds" with rubber mats on them. We each lay down on them and steam for about 15 minutes. The spa worker comes back into the room and one at a time, takes us to another corner and rinses our bodies by pouring hot water from a bowl over each part of us. She then puts some kind of soap or lotion all over us and leaves us to steam for another fifteen minutes or so. When she returns she gives each of our bodies an intense scrub with what feels like a brillo pad. I want to tell her to lighten up on the intensity of it, but I'm afraid to speak up – chances are she won't understand a word I'm saying anyway. When she finishes, I'm sure I must be bleeding. As she rinses the brown flakes off my body, I realize they are dead pieces of skin. Gross. Next, I am led to a private room with a Jacuzzi, which I have to myself for about a half hour before Rebecca comes in and I am led out to my massage. The massage room has two beds, and Kate is already in the middle of hers. At some point during my massage, Kate leaves and Rebecca comes in, so I basically experience a couple's massage with each of them. We're all a whole lot closer after this experience. I fall sleep on the table after mine, and Rebecca gently wakes me up and tells me it's time to go.

We have to meet for lunch in five minutes, so we meet the boys in the lobby full of argon oil and wet hair. They walk us to Mama Africa, a small café that actually seems more Jamaican than African, with reggae playing and Bob Marley flags draped on the walls. I order some salad that includes rice, lettuce, tomato, avocado, bananas, pineapple and shrimp. It is delicious. Kate orders a sandwich called "lots of love." I'll have the cappuccino with lots of love, please. Jenny from Houston is with us now, and sits next to me in a chair that has a backing carved into the shape of Africa.

After our delicious lunch we walk through a craft fair taking place down the street, but the boys tell us not to buy anything here, to wait for the craft fair where the women we loan to will be selling their crafts. Both Tim and Brian are doing business development in the Peace Corps and are the ones teaching these local artisans how to turn their crafts into businesses. That's where we come in- to give them the small loans they need to further grow and develop their business. So obviously we're all a lot more invested in these women and would prefer to buy from them at the craft fair the boys set up, which will take place in Marrakesh a few days from now. Tomorrow we head up to the mountains to Fes, and then Midelt to see Brian's cooperative of artisans. Tonight, the rest of our group, four more girls from San Francisco, will join us. Until then, I'm laying on the roof of our hotel until the sun goes down, enjoying this one leisurely day in Morocco.