It’s the Tuesday before Memorial Day weekend here, and since today is my last day in the office before we leave, colleagues have been asking what my plans will be this long weekend, and I’ve been asking them. A number of them will be traveling for beach locations along the east coast or for weddings, but most will be here, spending time with friends and family at barbecues and the usual gatherings that happen during the first weekend that marks the beginning of summer in the northern hemisphere.

I can’t remember ever going to a Memorial Day barbecue in my life. Maybe we did them growing up in our own backyard, but I don’t remember ever attending one. We often went to family friends’ homes for Independence Day barbecues, but I don’t really think I realized Memorial Day barbecues were a thing until I became an adult. And as horrible as it sounds, I don’t miss the idea of going to one during Memorial Day weekend, especially if I know I could be traveling to see something new during that time. They just sound so… mundane to me. I get bored hearing of these things. Maybe that makes me seem like a loner. Or maybe, that could make me seem like I don’t like people, or that I think I’m too good for a family and friends gathering on that day of the year. But… I kind of don’t care. I like that we use this time to travel and explore other parts of the country and world we haven’t been to. Maybe it makes us less relatable, but again, I don’t care. I’m happy to do our own thing. We have each other and the world. That seems like enough.

When I have personal travel upcoming, unless it’s specifically relevant to topics at hand (e.g. “I can’t do that meeting because I’ll be on PTO”; “I won’t be in town that weekend when you come because I’ll be in X city for vacation”), I rarely share it openly unless directly asked. I’m not the kind of person who likes to flaunt or brag, and I’m cognizant that even if that isn’t my intention, people can *hear* it that way because… well, people are people, and people are flawed. Chris’s mom has said she’s felt that way about sharing her travels at work, too. I’ve generally not shared openly unless asked.

So, today I told my colleague that I’d be in Colombia for about five days, and she exclaimed, “What?!!! You didn’t tell me you were going to Colombia!” It’s not like I purposely held it back; I just didn’t really know how relevant it was or if she even cared. And the other thing was: even if she now knew, does it really matter whether I told her two months ago or today? What difference does it really make unless she’d been there before (she hadn’t) or was the kind of person who discussed travel? While some of my friends share little to nothing about where they go and what they do, I have other friends who tell me their exact dates and cities when they travel. Everyone has their level of sharing and reasons for doing so, I suppose. But in my case, I just want to talk about what is relevant in the moment.

This Wednesday, we’re headed to Colombia for an early start to our extended Memorial Day weekend. I’ve gotten quite a lot of responses to this destination, everything from excitement to envy to downright, “Are you crazy? why are you going there?” A customer said he didn’t think it was safe for us to go there and said he’d never in his life want to go there and was happy just where he was; a partner suggested I watch my back and my purse at all costs. A colleague suggested I be careful and not drink any of the water there.

I’ve gotten all kinds of cautionary messages when traveling everywhere from China to India to Brazil. A friend who was worried about traveling to India kept recounting all the rapes of women and tourists there from media reports, and that even when accompanied by a man, it doesn’t make it safe for a woman to be walking around in the streets of India (in other words, just because I’m with Chris doesn’t mean I will no longer be a “target”). In general, I’d like to think I’m not a “dumb tourist” in that I always keep my purse in front of me, and I never flash a lot of cash in public or wear obviously expensive jewelry when traveling. But most of the time, I try not to think about that kind of stuff. It’s not that I’m being ignorant to the warnings, but rather I know that if I think about it too much, I will start getting nervous, and it would probably ruin my trip. I can’t foresee the future, and I can’t predict what bad things will happen because bad things happen around me every single day no matter where I am. Even though I consider New York City an extremely safe city to live in and walk around at all hours of the day and night, I still hear about friends of friends or acquaintances who have had their iPhones or other expensive electronics stolen from them, a few right out of their hands on the subway or on the subway platform. What are we going to do about that?

Because West Branch, the town where the Herbert Hoover Presidential Library and Museum is located, is two hours east of Des Moines, we unfortunately didn’t have enough time to see or do anything else on our last day in Iowa. But I actually got a glimpse of Herbert Hoover that I’d never quite seen before. In school, I feel like my history classes glossed over Hoover as a president. He was the president of the U.S. during the Great Depression and eventually got pushed out by FDR. He’s often been noted as one of the worst and most useless presidents in U.S. history. He’s also been blamed for exacerbating the Great Depression, as well.

But I didn’t realize that before he became president, he was well respected as an engineer and eventually as a humanitarian during World War I by leading hunger-relief efforts in Europe as the head of the American Relief Administration. Many people in Belgium looked at him as a savior since he provided food for those suffering famine. It’s odd that someone who was so helpful to Europeans during a time of crisis and who had traveled to and lived in Australia and China would not only be isolationist but also conservative and perceived as callous, insensitive, and unaware.

Visiting presidential libraries has educated me about U.S. history in a way that my history classes in school never did. Of course, the presidential libraries are always going to paint each respective president in a flattering way, so. it will take some effort and proactivity to read between the lines. It would be a good idea to do a tour of presidential libraries as a child, as well as of the vast variety of history museums, to supplement all children’s learning in this country… though it would certainly be costly. But it would provide a more well-rounded perspective of what this country is actually made of.

After doing some exploration in the Des Moines area yesterday, we did a day trip to Omaha, Nebraska, and went into my 44th state (and Chris’s 46th state). My general feeling of Omaha is that it seems more interesting of a place to visit than Des Moines, with a few more tourist attractions, including the Durham Museum and overall better art museums, as well as a few quirky neighborhoods that would warrant some extra strolling and exploring. It also helps that Warren Buffet is from here (and, well, he still lives here, in the same house he bought in 1958 for $31,500)!. We actually drove past his house just to take a look at it.

Chris and I almost never check any bags during our travel, and especially during three-day weekend trips around the country; that would be nearly blasphemy to him. The only exceptions to this are to and from Australia (for things like Christmas gifts, packing his supply of Arnott’s Tim Tams and other chocolates until his next trip), or places like Japan and Korea (where we all know I will be stocking up on beauty products and green tea/cherry-blossom/Asian-flavors of all things I can put in my mouth). We didn’t even check bags to and from Italy, Spain, or Portugal — all delicious foodie places where I could have easily brought back a lot of wine, olive oil, sardines, etc. But when we went to the Old Market Farmers Market, one of the most popular farmers’ markets that is open on Saturdays here in Omaha, somehow we all found ourselves captivated by the It’s All About Bees honey stand, which makes and sells raw and flavored honeys, jams, as well as other body products made from local honey. Honeys, with their antibacterial properties and health benefits, have gotten quite expensive, so it was actually a surprise to see these honeys which were raw and still reasonably priced, whether it was for a small 6 oz. container or a larger 24 oz. container. Their variety of honey was extremely extensive, and they generously allow you to sample pretty much all of them. We collectively ended up buying six jars of honey, mostly driven because Chris’s mom wanted to buy some, so Chris said that since this would require a checked bag that we might as well buy some, too. We bought all three of their varieties of raw honey (plain, orange blossom, and buckwheat), and also the lavender (I’m currently obsessed with all things lavender that are edible and even bought a bag of organic lavender for cooking purposes — it’s so good!). To think that we ended up checking a bag from a place like Iowa/Nebraska over Italy or Spain!!

The most amusing thing to me about visiting farmers markets around the country is that even when you might think that things may be cheaper just because you’re no longer in a major city, this definitely is almost never the case with “trendy” or “yuppie” products like hand-crafted soaps, lip balms, hand salves, and coffee. While the honey was cheaper than what I was expecting, all the pricing for these other items we saw were competitive with farmers’ markets back in San Francisco and New York — about $3.50-4 for lip balms, $10-20 for hand salves, and $16-18 for a 12 oz. bag of locally roasted (and very strong) whole coffee beans (wow – that’s just like Stumptown pricing!). The coffee stand we stopped at for a sample even had Keurig cups for their coffee. I marveled at this. “Hey, I’m a capitalist so….” the vendor said, smiling.

I suppose the demand for these items is everywhere, so everywhere a segment of the population will always be wiling to pay these higher prices for what they perceive to be a higher quality good.

We’re taking Chris’s parents this long weekend to Iowa and Nebraska. It’s always a bit comical taking two Aussies to states in the middle of the United States. When sharing happily with random strangers (since his dad is the chatty type), he’s always so excited to share that he’s going somewhere new. In regards to travel around the world, upgrades on flights and hotels, his dad is like a kid in a candy shop.

But of course, his joy and excitement is always met by blank stares, confusion, and “WTF” expressions. “Why are you going there?” he’s inevitably asked.

He always shares this with us, to which Chris always responds, “So what? I don’t care what other people think. We’re going!”

I oftentimes think that the same people who ask questions like this are the same people who are still confused by the results of the 2016 presidential election. And that is very, very dangerous. If we cannot understand the issues and mistakes of the past, then how will we ever learn and progress forward as individuals or as a nation? That is why history is so important… yet somehow, this still doesn’t click with so many.

On Sunday afternoon, two colleagues, their partners, and I left the resort and drove to a spot 15 minutes away for a horseback riding activity up a mountain. While waiting for everyone to sign their waiver forms and for our guide to organize the horses and get us together, the man in charge of the waiver forms started looking at each of us up and down, conspicuously scrutinizing us and wondering where we were from and why we were here. After asking us what our relation was to each other, if we were friends, colleagues, where we we from, we told him that we all work at a San Francisco-based technology company and were here for a work event to celebrate high-performing employees.

“So you work in technology, huh?” the guy snorted, clearly annoyed by our response. “Well, I have a question for you!”

We all exchanged quick looks. This wasn’t going to be fun.

“Why is it that these big technology companies with all this money choose to open in big cities with high rent and high costs of living and just ignore all these other cities in the middle of the country and in areas that aren’t as expensive?” he said, visibly annoyed. “You have all this money and you could be opening in places that have more space, have better quality of life, and could most importantly be offering jobs to people who really need them! And you’d also be paying less rent and smaller salaries! Isn’t that a win-win?”

A colleague of mine slowly starts to explain that one reason for this is that VCs who invest in companies may want the companies close by to them. Our VCs are all in Silicon Valley, so they’d want our company to be in San Francisco.

The skeptical horseback rider waiver forms guy was still skeptical. “But you’ve got other offices that aren’t the headquarters that are in New York and Amsterdam! How do you explain that? Is it just that you don’t want to help cities in Nebraska or Iowa?”

I finally chimed in and said that the talent pool just wasn’t quite the same in Nebraska and Iowa, and it would cost a lot of money to relocate talent from major cities like New York to Omaha. It even takes money to relocate people from San Francisco to Chicago, where the tech scene is lesser developed,, yet we all consider Chicago a major urban metropolitan area. He raised his eyebrows at me when I said this, and my colleagues looked at me like I was crazy.

“You’re saying that the talent pool isn’t in Nebraska or Texas? You think their people just aren’t as talented?” he pressed me.

“Yes, I am saying that based on our recruiting efforts and what other companies have found,” I insisted to him, completely undaunted. “Even big relocation packages aren’t enough to get these people to uproot their lives and move to these random places.”

It was as though I’d ruffled his feathers. His face was turning red. “But don’t you people eventually want to settle down, move to the suburbs or rural areas to have a better quality of life and raise kids, have a family, have space?” he insisted back to me with his own inner argument coming out with fangs. As each word came out, his volume was rising and his irritation was being unleashed.

“Honestly?” I said back, totally unfazed. “Not really. Most young people these day don’t want that kind of life. More and more people are staying in the city. And well, not everyone wants kids.” That last bit could have sent him into attack mode.

But to my rescue, our driver had walked over, mid-conversation, and realized what was going on. She asked to speak with him in private, during which I could hear her scolding him to stop judging their guests and that we were actually giving them business that he should be grateful for.

“But I’m not judging them!” he yelped back. “I’m just asking questions!”

Well, he actually was judging us. And he was also asking questions. He doesn’t really get what we do, but he thinks he does. And he thinks he gets the bigger picture. But he doesn’t. And I’m happy to call him out on it and tell him the truth regardless of whether he wants to hear it or accept it. People who are out of touch with reality are just the bane of my existence. He thinks we’re discriminating against cities in the middle of the country? Most of those people just lack the skill sets we need. And the others think they’re too good for the jobs that “illegal” immigrants perform, everything from farming and harvesting to back of house work in restaurants across this country. But I’m sure he doesn’t even know that, and if he did, he’d refuse to accept it.

Today is the second and really, last full day of this trip. I spent time time in the spa, ate a quick lunch, went out to the mountains with four others for horseback riding, and came back to lounge by the pool before our Cinco de Mayo themed group dinner. I had this great plan of reading for about an hour and a half at the pool before getting ready for dinner, but colleagues kept running into me at the pool and stopping me to chat. That sounds really anti-social of me, but I was really hoping to get this reading done.

“You know you’re here for President’s Club to socialize with everyone here, right?” my close colleague said.

Yeah, sort of. But if I brought Chris as a plus-one, I’d probably be doing less of the type of socializing I’ve been doing.

We had our dinner altogether as a group, and while it was delicious, as it started coming to a close, the amount of white male testosterone that filled the air made be a bit nauseated. I get along well with all the CSMs and sales engineers, even the sales guys from Europe, and certain spouses/plus-ones who came. But I’ve always been turned off by the white bro culture that comes out when the sales guys are all around each other. There’s just something about the way they act with each other that just reminds me of frats, and it really disgusts me. As soon as all the banter began after the multiple margaritas, I knew I had to bolt.

I’m grateful for my time here at this beautiful resort, my spa treatments and spa time, and the time to chat with my favorite SF colleagues and EMEA counterparts. But I really do not want to increase my time socializing with entitled white male sales bros. This culture needs to change, but it won’t anytime soon sadly.

After two connecting flights and a short Uber ride, I arrived at the Ritz-Carlton Bacara in Santa Barbara this late afternoon. It felt oddly familiar given that Chris and I had visited this property just four years ago as a potential wedding venue. It certainly is a luxurious resort with beautifully manicured lawns, roses, and bougainvillea, multiple pools, an extremely extensive spa and fitness club, and the beautiful Spanish tiling and architecture. I walked around the different areas where Chris and I checked out that had ocean and pool views and admired the coastal walk trail along the beach. This is definitely a nice getaway place.

While most people went out to downtown Santa Barbara to drink and party, I ended up going back to my room to read, do my video editing course, and sleep early to get ready for a day tomorrow of fitness classes, spa treatments, and relaxing. I felt my inner introvert come out when I declined going out with the crowd. My desire to socialize with a bunch of sales people is definitely not high. In general, I’ve never really gotten along well with sales because for the most part, to do well in sales, you have to be selfish with a high sense of self-orientation, and those personality types never do well with me. So this President’s Club weekend, while mostly a treat, is also a bit of a downer for me because it means I have to spend time with these people. And unsurprisingly, I spent most of the welcome reception socializing with other customer success managers and sales engineers.