The Insead File: A camel, a double-decker bus, and a Bedouin tent . . . strange things have appeared on Insead's lawn over the past few weeks.
You might well think it's time we took a break from the books, but these apparitions weren't stress-induced mass hallucinations. They are part of various "national weeks", during which Insead students bring us a taste of their regional culture.
There's also method in the madness: international business leaders effortlessly overcome local cultural barriers, and we're training to become international leaders. That's why the Insead year is as much a cross-cultural exchange as a classroom experience.
Organising the national weeks is also a business activity in itself. Double-decker buses don't come for free, and substantial sponsorship must be raised by students to finance the events.
Marketing and project management skills are also honed, particularly when sourcing, distributing and keeping tabs on stocks of beer.
Several nationalities have so far joined together to share their traditions: Arabic week brought wine-tasting from Lebanon and a Bedouin tent complete with the shisha smoking pipes you usually see in Egypt. The camel was also real, and not a figment of the smokers' imaginations.
We've also enjoyed an Israeli week, an Iberian week, an Italian week, a Chinese week and a semana latina organised by South American classmates. We've had salsa lessons straight from Brazil, flamenco dancing displays, banquets of Chinese food, and lessons in how to live la dolce vita from the Italians.
The Irish, however, are severely under-represented on campus, so your correspondent was forced to forget centuries of animosity, and join the old enemy to help arrange an Irish and British week, the highlight of which wasn't the arrival of the double-decker London bus, but the joint Irish-Scottish céilí night, which saw students from all over the globe sampling haggis and Guinness.
Personally, I think we did our classmates a favour - if they're truly going to become global leaders, then they'll have to learn how to hide their instinctive aversions to local delicacies such as haggis and the black stuff.
Michael Flatley, however, had beaten us to the punch; the set-dancing routines of our céilí were mastered all too easily by classmates, no doubt thanks to the influence of Riverdance.
Socialising isn't limited to current students. The past month has seen several alumni reunions on campus, with graduates from classes dating back to 1977 in attendance. There's obviously a networking element to these reunions, and from the school's perspective they are key fundraising opportunities.
Returning alumni offer talks on topics ranging from career advice to parenting, specifically "how to coach the career development of adolescents" (which surprisingly doesn't insist that an MBA is essential).
The alumni also provide a link to the real world, from which you find yourself oddly detached while immersed in business school. Conversations on campus seldom discuss property prices, politics, or even sport. I'm beginning to think current affairs should be examined as a separate subject, instead of a topic which students tend to cram the night before an interview.
Yet that's the irony of "business" school. We're so caught up in classes, exams and career planning that we tend to lose sight of what's happening in the real world. Students seize free copies of the Financial Times and Wall Street Journal every morning, but seldom seem interested if interest rates rise, if the dollar falls to an all-time low, or if the US sub-prime credit market threatens to collapse.
Let's just hope these developments don't affect the graduate job market in the autumn; given the possible implications of these events, maybe it's best that students don't read the papers after all.
We do make some effort to stay attached to reality, mainly through student clubs and societies, and the guest speakers invited to address these groups.
The investment banking club has held several forums with industry practitioners. The consulting club has had similar events and the students' current favourite, the private equity club, has kept us firmly grounded in reality with presentations such as "how to launch your own hedge fund". No harm in aiming for the stars, I suppose.
First things first though; aspirant hedge fund managers, apprentice consultants and future bankers have another set of exams to pass before the summer break. There's nothing quite like the threat of closed-book exams to focus the mind, so, for now, we'll postpone moves to become corporate titans and we'll hit the books once more. Maybe this is the real world after all.
