Hello Pacific Perserverence

Day one of ten interminable days of crossing the Pacific to Hawaii. It seems an infinite stretch of time, the longest test of endurance yet to be administered in my short life. I'm even missing Thanksgiving and my mom's birthday. There are also five time changes on this crossing, five times we lose an hour of sleep before we collect on our sacrifice and reap an entire repeat day. Am I only being whiny? Yes, at least partly. There's a real dip in feeling here, in this space. It's a time when we as a shipboard community really don't have much else to concentrate on but each other. We rock back and forth, and instead of being soothed or transported I am simply annoyed and my head hurts. The voyage, for all intents and purposes, is over. We've even visited our last international port for goodness sake. And yet here we are, and we have to be at it and on it for another month. 'Sigh'. I'm the one traveling and yet I feel the world is passing me by, and that I've put my life on hold.

Konichiwa Tokyo: Domo Arigatou Gozaimashita Shiyomi!

I couldn't wait to get off the ship in Yokohama only to get back on again. Shiyomi Rakue, a friend of mine from grad school at Tulane came to meet me in port and it was my pleasure to spend most of my time in Tokyo hanging out with her and letting her show me around her hometown. We started the time with my giving her a tour of the ship. She was suitably impressed. One of the best things about showing a new person around the ship is that it refreshes it, giving you a chance to see it with new eyes. That actually turned out to be an invaluable gift. Domo arigatou gozaimashita Shiyomi! (I would say this over and over again during my time in Tokyo...)

I loved everything about Tokyo-- the skyline, the look, the vibe, the people. I was alive there, electric. It was a pleasure to just walk the streets. It's so much more polite, quieter, and cleaner than any other major city that I've ever been to. Best things about Japan include:

1) Electric Toilets! The one in my hotel had a remote! It allowed you to control the temp, pressure, and placement of the squirty bidet bum cleaner attached to the side. Easy peasy! I grew to love it :)

2) Fashion! Tokyo street fashion is amazing to see in effect. So many people are walking fashion plates that I immediately stepped up my game. I got lots of compliments too. This is the place for those big, done, falsie eyes and color saturated lips. It helped that I had a fatty asymmetrical braided style. I think I've found one of my signature looks.

3) The subway! I loved navigating the subways in Tokyo. They were challenging and confusing, but once I got it... the city opened to me like a flower. I spent an entire day alone sightseeing after buying an all day pass. It's the kind of city where that kind of experience is not only safe, but it shouldn't be missed.

4) Food! Even I, the seafood allergic, had amazingly good food. Shiyomi took me to a traditional Japanese restaurant that served only chicken. There I tried sake and wasabi for the first time ever in my life with no danger of allergic reaction.

5) The sights! Tokyo Tower, Odaiba Island, the Emperor's Palace, Mitsui Museum, Zojo-ji temple, Asakura, Harajuku, Roponggi, Shibuya ... the list goes on and on. Each and every place I visited taught me a lesson and made my jaw drop. Even crossing the street in some places was an education.

The worst things about Tokyo include
1) No way to access your money. No ATMs serve international bank cards exept the ones in the post office. You can imagine the inconvenience. Also, there is a 10,000 Yen limit to withdrawals. This is roughly 100$. Boo.

2) Smoking. Everyone does, and they can do it anywhere. Imagine the "no-smoking section" setup of the 50s in the US. That's how it is there. Boo.

3)  Expensive cabs + the subway closing early = no going out late at night. Picture this. You want to go out and expereince Tokyo nightlife. But the subway closes early, like at 11 pm. Most clubs really start popping at 12 am or later. What's your solution? Cabs, of course. Except these cost 10$ every 2 blocks. Boo.

4) Expensive in general. Prices in japan generally run 2 to 3 times what you would pay in the US. For everything, even a combo meal at Mcdonald's. ($7 for a double cheeseburger meal that costs $3.50 in the US) BOOOOOOO!!!

Hello Shanghaied

Shanghai was dreary and grey, with a constant drizzle and cold that did its best to permanently seep into my bones. I wasn't even happy to have the ship stop moving really, especially after the two days "in transit" that turned into a very timeless and much needed rest from the rigors of shipboard life and the constant demands of the students. But time marches on...

My time in Shanghai was unfortunately short and filled with inclement weather but I did manage to:

1) Walk the Bund. It's amazing how much that area is changing. It is completely under construction in preparation for a big year in 2012. I remember when I first visited in 2000. We were oddities and wonders. A parade of friendly freaks. That is no longer the case. No surprise, not as much curiosity. China is opening to the West slowly but surely, like a furled rosebud blossom. There was a 14 ft tall digital advertisement for Weight Watchers playing in the square for goodness sake!

2) Buy an amazing pair of bootleg "heelies". I saw a hustle man in the People's Square wearing a pair strapped onto his shoes and I just had to have one of my own. I convinced two friends to buy a pair also and off we trotted to put them on and slip and slide around the dock in the freezing cold. I busted my ass in front of everyone, including Chinese custom officers. We all had a laugh. I am sure that I did as much for US international relations as Obama has with his speeches. After all, who doesn't like to laugh? 

3) Had a day of bargaining and shopping at Qing Po Market. This is like a small city of flea markets. I bought so much stuff! I had so much fun. Ugg boots, Fendi bag, winter coat. You name it. Even MAC makeup. I love Asia for this.

Hello In Transit

I didn't know what to expect from this time in transit between Hong Kong and Shanghai. I am one of less than 100 souls that opted out of traveling overland in China for the time between the two ports. At first, it felt like a punishment, like a cop out. The best choice seemed obvious: get off the ship and don't waste the time you could spend in port on the ship. But then another road less traveled opened up to me. Why not stay on the ship? Save the money, rest up, enjoy some blessed silence and time to do nothing, free of demands. I took the road less traveled (heh heh).

I did the right thing, it turns out. I've really enjoyed this time. I slept in, got a day of spa treatments (I shouldn't have spent the money but it was still less than it would have cost to travel and eat in China for two days.), enjoyed a sit down meal, dressed for dinner twice, and attended an awesome FREE karaoke party. it was maganificent, and I'll be sad to see it end frankly.

Speaking of karaoke parties, this one was my first pleasant introduction to the experience. I sang several songs --  sang alone, in a duo, and with a group. I think my aversion to karaoke has been cured! What a great side benefit.

Hello Hong Kong

Hello Hong Kong. I honestly didn't know what to expect when I visited Hong Kong. I didn't really know enough about it, I guess. I mean, it's China... and yet not China. I knew that it was urban. But what does that even really mean?

It turns out that this surprise was a good one. I LOVED Hong Kong, completely, immediately, and with alacrity. As it happens, I only had two days there, having decided to get back on the ship and sail for two days to Shanghai. I never really considered the option of spending the whole time in Hong Kong and flying to Shanghai to meet the ship, although now, in hindsight, that option seems obvious. I didn't even know that I would want to stick around until I arrived.

Without time to plan, to research, I latched onto the first fun option that presented itself: a day at Kong Disneyland. At first, it was just a cheap option for something fun (and a bit familiar) to do. But as the time to arrival in port got closer, I got more and more excited. By the time I was climbing onto the special Disney Resort Line train with the Mickey Mouse ear windows on the train, I was grinning from ear to ear and bouncing in my seat.

I spent the entire day schlepping around the park, amazed at all the similarities and differences I observed, too many to name. I rode Space Mountain 6 times because there was no line! Can you believe it? I bought mouse ears, watched a live High Schol Musical Show in Chinese, and almost lost 2 fingers on the Dumbo ride. (I even got a chance to see the Disney first aid station to get patched up -- luckily the feeling has mostly returned to my fingers).

The next day I spent in the ladies market. I have no idea why it's named that, as there were plenty of men there and they sold items for women and men.

All in all, Hong Kong was amazing, but all I got was the merest taste. I will be going back, and with enough time on my schedule to experience all it has to offer. That's the thing about this voyage -- it's a gateway drug for the travel addiction of a lifetime. I'll be back for another fix soon.

Hello Vietnam

Reading this blog, one might think that I spent all my time in Cambodia and none in Vietnam, but that's actually not true. I spent 2 days in Vietnam and 3 in Cambodia. The ship docked in Ho Chi Minh City for the entire 5 days, and I leftthe country briefly during our time there. While I was in Vietnam, I enjoyed:

1) A traditional Vietnamese Massage at The Golden Lotus Foot Massage Club. This was AMAZING. Both the service and the price are reason enough to fly to Vietnam. I got 120 minutes of massage including swedish, deep tissue, reflexology, warm stone, shiatsu, and chiropractic massage techniques as well as 2 tea ceremonies serving Lotus, ginseng, and green teas as well as fruit for 21$, tip inclusive!!!!!!!!!!! I was so boneless when I left that I had to be wheeled out. Every part of me was relaxed. Just thinking about it makes me sigh.

2) I had chicken nuggets and watched the World Series Game on a flat screen. 'Nuff said. Ain't technology grand?

Vietnam is a great country, and I loved my time there again. It was one of my favorite ports on the first trip, and I am happy to say that remains the case today. I was astounded by the amount of development and progress that have been made in the mere 9 years since I visited. More buildings, more skyscrapers, more cars... and still no way to cross the street without taking your life into your hands. :)

Hello Cambodia: Siam Reap!

Cambodia has knocked me off of my feet. It's one of those places you know so little about that your expectations may as well not exist for their insubstantiality. Even so, I am not prepared for how completely my heart has opened and I have embraced this country. Every sight, sound, and experience has been a mountaintop one.

Having remembered the envy that I felt in Fall 2000 when my friends talked about their time here, I chose to buy an extended 3-day tour of the Temples of Angkor. It included ten temple tours, including Angkor Wat, as well as a boat tour at Tonle Sap. Even as I sent in the form to purchase the trip, I didn't know what I was buying. With an ignorant insousiance, I figured I'd read up later in preparation for the trip and all I'd see and hear. No such luck. I crammed a bit of history on the great Khmer civilization that ruled for thousands of years here and the Khmer Rouge, and I thought I had been pretty successful at it, until I came to visit and realized that I'd had the barest of knowledge of the topic of study.

Lessons Learned:
- Cambodia is a democracy now. It used to be a communist country.
- Cambodia is a Kingdom. It has a king, but he's a figurehead.
- The Cambodian language is Khmer.
- "Angkor" means city. "Wat" means temple.
- "Siam" means Thailand. "Reap" means defeat.
- "Sous Sday" means hello.
- In less than 4 years in power Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge regime executed/starved 25% of the population. There are now 15 million people living here. 3 million perished.
- The "killing fields" is a bit inaccurate in that executuions were perfomed in fields all over the country. There was no formal place where these executions were performed. Bodies are still being found.
- "Naga" the Serpent King/God, is carved all over the Khmer, Hindu, and Buddhist Temples here. He is a protector deity to the Khmers. Many of the temples were built as early as 800 A.D. as Khmer temples and then Indians arrived with Hindu religion and Buddhism from the Chinese/vietnamese. Many of the temples were built as one thing and now exist as another.
- "Apsara" is the celestial dancer. She's pretty fierce.

We arrived in Siam Reap, the nearest city to Angkor. We started or temple explorations with Ta Promh, the "tomb raider" temple, nicknamed for the film that was shot there. The entire complex was overgrown with vines and trees, left unrestored, both because of the structural instability of the place without the root systems and also to give the experience of the French that arrived and explored the jungle to find the many ruins of Angkor (which itself holds 300 temples). Technically, we only saw/explored .03% of what's actually there! It was so exhilirating and exciting to clamber up, down, around and under broken pillars and cave ins. I must have taken a million pictures there alone.

Next we visited Angkor Wat until sunset. Surrounded by a large moat, with outer and inner temples and courts, Angkor Wat is a lot to take in, and I'm not sure I've even assimilated everything that I've seen. There are no words to describe my disbelief that such a place could be built largely by devoted volunteers working for the price of good karma (FREE) with no heavy machinery, no balances, no cranes. Many of the stones were too heavy to transport over land and were floated to the construction area! I also can't believe that a people that never mastered the flying buttress built so many arches. These are "false", in that they don't curve, but it's still amazing that they made a way to complete these projects and sustain their huge society.

We ate dinner and watched some dance performances. The Cambodian woman performing a dance in the traditional style was amazing. Her balance and flexibility rivaled any ballet principal as she balanced largely on one foot, bending her leg behind her back. Her hands seemed double-hinged, rolling and folding back and forth continually against the wrist. I was getting sore just watching her. I remember thinking as I watched the dance, the beautiful costumes and folk stories, that a great evil had arisen and greatly damaged, almost destroyed, this beautiful and rich culture. I sent up a prayer then and there for God's blessing on them, God's covering of protection. I prayed for their spirits to be healed. For peace to abide. Interestingly, it already does... of all the places I've visited on this voyage, without exception, Cambodia is the most serene. I have a sense here that the people have found contentment and peace on the strength of their gratitude, their deep joy of living, alone. Maybe it is their lesson to the world (aka me). South Africa's was forgiveness and reconciliation. Over time, I have come to believe that each nation has one great thing to teach the world. I'm gradually making it my mission to find out what each one is, even America's (currently have no idea).

Angkor Wat at sunrise is not to be missed. Chris was right! (Thanks man:) I felt blessed just to watched the colors change over the building, snapping ineffectual photo after photo. After breakfast, we ran the gamut of temples, hitting Angkor Thom, Bayon, Baphuon, Terrace of the Leper King, and the Elephant Terrace. I remember we had just walked away from Bayon, where many people had taken advantage of elephant rides around the temple (I refrained to save 15$ since I'd already ridden them in India). We stopped so the guide could tell us a story. I was standing on a high rock and looking at the sky, at hole in the thin canopy that the grove of trees made. Right then, the gentlest of breezes blew... and I felt it. Holiness. I was at my exact center. God was there. And I knew that I loved this country and always would. I

After lunch, the tour continued to Pre rup, East Mebon, Ta Som, Neak Pean, and Preah Khan. At this point, I'm sure that anyone would agree that a person should and would be "templed out", but even though it was ridiculousy humid and hot (I had 8 different sweat/grime layers on my skin; like a fossil record of the day) but I wasn't because each of the temples that we visited, was absolutely different. One had giant buddhas, another had a lake inside and we had to cross to the temple of a long balance-brdge made of 2x4s. It was a great day. After dinner, I went with some students to the night market, where I proceeded to do my level best to single-handedly beef up their GDP!! I've never felt so good about blowing money -- it was my pleasure to put money in the hands of the new entrepreneurs (at a reasonable price of course).

This morning was another early rising, but no regrets. We took a short drive down to Tonle Sap, a HUGE lake on or around which half a million people live. We saw houses on stilts on the way to the docks where we caught a motorboat ferry for a tour of the lake. It was amazing. I and some of the more intrepid students climbed onto the roof of the boat to catch great views and take amazing pics. It was an entire society on a lake, complete with restaurants, schools, autoshops, pool hall, etc. Little kids paddled by in large galvanized tubs. Some other sights included floating rafts of steno torches like the ones used in buffets and a weird net slapping system of clearing the nets of the fish they catch, which are as small as sardines. It was another world entirely from our own, although I was vaguely reminded of the people that live in houses on the edges of Lake Ponchartrain and the bayous (everything makes me homesick -- it's a disease!).

Lastly, I would be remiss if I didn't mention the amazing guide we had from Destination Asia. Khet to the round, handsome Khmer face of many of his countrymen, but what struck me most about him was his spirit. Projecting outward through his voice, constant smile, and gentle sense of humour was one of the most serene spirits I have ever met. There is a place inside that I imagine is quiet and still, and endless wellspring of the deepest and strongest joy. The kind born of the divine. I am not sure of his religion, but he knows God, that much is certain. As a man in his late 30s, he is not technically a survivor of the Khmer Rouge genocide, but he is ceratinly a victim, and his testimony during our ride home from Angkor on the second day touched everyone who heard it very deeply. As a child, he has no memory of the oppression of slavery or field work, but it was 6 or 7 years before he met his two older sisters and father, who made their way home from the fields after the Khmer Rouge fell from power. He has an older brother that they believe died during that time (no proof -- never returned home, body never found or identified). He clearly recalls tagging along with his father through killing fields at 7 years old, searching through piles of bodies, the stench unimaginable, looking for a face he'd never seen, but whose loss he felt all the same. In lieu of a burial, they wrote his name on a piece of paper and threw it into a grave. Even as I write this, tears are on my cheeks -- I too know the pain of missing family members in the wake of disaster. There is NO comparison between the catastrophe of Hurricane Katrina and the genocide of the Khmer Rouge, but pain is pain, and loss is loss, and in this, he is my brother. I'll make a vow here and now to remember his family in prayer.

Hello Halloween!

Wasn't planning to blog this, but it deserves to be recorded for all time. There aren't too many times when this voyage has compared favorably or even reminded me of Fall 2000, but Halloween, like the Sea Olympics is one of those days. This surprises and pleases me, especially since those two days haven't been that far apart. All in all, good feelings about this voyage abound with me today... it's all downhill from here.

Back to Halloween... the infectious excitement of Halloween actually started the night before. I was stunned to see my students running around our sea at 3am, giggling, dressed in their costumes or actively scavenging for scraps to make into costumes. The next day, students began appearing dressed up for the holiday immediately. Some attended class and meals in costume, others waited until dinner or just after to get changed. If I was asked one time about what I wanted to be for Halloween, I was asked a million times. I was a saloon girl, by the way. I re-used a costume that I had purchased online in 2007 and have only worn twice (although in 2008 I didn't dress up). It is quite sexy, consisting of a short fuschia and black dress with a multi-colored can-can underneath, black stocking (or fishnets, which I didn't have), heels, a fushia garter, headband, and black fan made of died ostrich feathers (I actually got that in the UK -- didn't come with the costume). I made my face up competely, added some bindi designs and falsies to my eyes, and was ready to rock.

When I got to the party, I went picture crazy! Everyone had dressed up, and so many of the costumes were amazing, not only for their design but also for their cleverness. So many of the students did not come onto the ship with a costume, but made something amazing while on board. Fortunately, there was a costume parade and a costume contest. I didn't envy the judges! There were quite a few amazing entries. Faculty and staff didn't compete:(

The contest winners were:

1) in the kids division, "the transformer" (one of the older kids cut up, painted, and taped cardboard to himself in all the right places to look like Optimus Prime)

2) in the male division "SAS Picture" (a guy dressed up as one of the cheesy art prints in the cabins, complete with the backside graffiti -- people were leaving messages on his back all night)

3) the female division "the creeper" (girl who dressed up as Japanese horror girl in the Ring and the Grudge)

4) the group division "the rickshaw" (2 guys that tranformed a tricycle into a bicycle rickshaw complete with paper-stuffed legs hanging out...amazing)

5) and finally the overall creative divion "speed racer barbie" (girl who dressed up like a biker chic and made a life-size barbie box complete with celophane window!!! It was decorated with logos and sales language... amazing)

And now for the best part.... THRILLER! I have been assisting one of the students, Paulo, as a hip hop instructor since early on in the voyage. In the spirit of Fall 2000, I put a bug in his ear about doing a surprise performance of Thriller during the Halloween party. It was gleefully accepted, and for the past month, the class has been learning the choreography and practicing. One of the students clipped the music for us to include some sound effects. It was so great the way we executed it: Maria cleared the dance floor about halfway through the party and was pretending to do the costume party when she was "interrupted" by this massive growling noise. Pretending confusion, she backed out of the way. The lights went out. Enter Thriller ghouls and goblins. When the lights came back on, we were rocking and rolling. The performance went by in a flash. We held our pose at the end to the sound of thunderous applause. Everyone was really excited and congratulatory. I was so proud of the students who performed, because they worked really hard and it took a lot of guts for some of them to be in a dance performance. Many of them exclaimed at the rush performing gives you. I wasn't surprised at the feeling of course, but I had no idea how much I'd missed it until that night.

Happy Halloween!

Namaste India: Taj Mahal

Taj sunrise magic
monumental emotion
veils rising, rising

Namaste India: Delhi & Jaipur

Dawn in India is a hazy affair, and the day we arrived in Chennai was no exception. I attended the diplomatic briefing that morning and saw most of an amazing yoga demonstration. The yoga master, a woman in her 60's, looked amazing and showed videos of her executing amazing asanas in the background while she spoke on yoga's health benefits and philosophies while her two students executed many complicated asanas live. She also helped us through some of the breathing exercises, which were great. It was a like putting my toe in to test the waters and finding them the perfect temperature -- India was there with open arms, waiting to welcome me. I too, was ready to be embraced.


I signed up eons ago not only to purchase the Taj Mahal & Jaipur official Semester at Sea trip, CHE 04, but had also eagerly upped the ante on the trip by volunteering to be trip leader, a decision 100% motivated by the fatty discount that trip leaders get for spearheading a trip. Over time on the voyage, I learned that trip leadership is actually nothing to sneeze at, and those discounts are earned with blood and tears as often as not. Horror stories on student misbehavior, bad guides, and itineraries that failed to live up to their descriptions in the field manual. After receiving more details on the trip itinerary, a vigorous one with long bus rides and early morning wake up calls, I begin getting a little nervous about how it would all go. By the time I was attending the trip leader meeting after logistical pre-port, I had a case of the shakes, nervous striking snakes in my belly, and I would have given anything to shove my trip leader envelope into someone else's hands!!

Thankfully, my anxieties proved of little subtance. We started out our trip auspiciously, as the first people to leave the ship. We boarded the bus for the 40 minute ride to the airport. India has interesting travel security rules that in many ways exceed even what is required in the United States! In an effort to avoid lost baggage and other snafus (an inevitability when traveling in India) we all took carry-on bags, and the only checked baggage was a giant bag packed with all of our liquids and toiletries, batteries (including camera and cell phone batteries), and sharp items. In India these things are not allowed in carry-ons, even in small amounts. Each member of our 32 person trip was obliged to pack their items in a small ziplob bag labeled with their name which they then placed in the communal checked baggage. Lukily, our giant bag-o-toiletries survived the trip and was never lost. Only mild spillage. Robitussin. It was me. Oops :)

Our flights round trip experienced major delays, each being delayed by an hour. Thing is, in India the time they give you for your flight is actually not the time that you take off from the runway. It's the time to be past security and at the gate. The gate is not the place where you board the flight, however. The gate is the place that you wait in line for the bus. The bus then takes you to the tarmac, where you board the plane. Our flights were great though, the seats wide and leather. We were given meal vouchers for the flight as a part of our trip, and so we enjoyed transportation closer to American business class than the steerage type travel we suffer in the US for 3 times the cost!

We finally arrived to Delhi late. We met our tour guide for the entire trip, Ramesh and he escorted us to the bus. Giving us an abbreviated night bus tour (boo) instead of the city tour we were supposed to have, we went to our hotel, The Lalit. The Lalit was AMAZING. Five star accomodation. Having been dressed (apprpriately) in a pair of ratty, too-big capri pants and an Obama tee shirt, along with my dirty and busted sneakers (which I am getting rid of after the voyage), I immediately was chagrined and felt underdressed. I was fit for the back entrance! However, I held my head up high. When I got to the room I felt even worse. It was beautiful, had a large flat screen television, and an amazing bathroom. I felt that it would clinch my plebian status to take pix of the room, so I made a video (not that much better). I had a nice dinner, a long bath, and went to bed.

The next morning after breakfast, we hopped onto the bus for a bus tour of New Delhi and a long ride to Jaipur. When we arrived, we took a tour through the city of Jaipur also and saw many things. Palaces, temples... the streets were a montage of curious and compelling sights: sacred cows in the roads, sacred cows and dogs scavenging in piles of garbage, fruit and spice markets, massive snarls of telephone and electricity wires in the sky (their power grid must look like a pile of spaghetti noodles), entire families on mopeds, bicycle rickshaws, men peeing on the street (apparently not a big deal), BMWs and Mercedes next to people in oxcarts, dust sweepers losing the battle against the amazing dust, beautifully dressed women in saris, billboards, advertisements, roundabouts, elephants, beggar children, the list is infinite.

After a day of touring Jaipur, we checked into the Hotel Mansingh. They had prepared a special dinner and show for us. A traveling troupe family of performers sang, danced, and entertained while we scarfed down delicious buffet food in a small courtyard by the pool. The trees were decorated with lights and the popular hanging mobiles of birds, elephants, and stars of India. I remember that they served

Hello Victory: Fall 2009 Sea Olympics

October 20, 2009, Indian Ocean.... a day that will live in infamy for the Fall 2009 voyage.

A day that will go down in history as the day that Danni, LLC extraordinaire led her sea, Andaman, to trounce the other seven seas in the traditional Semester at Sea Olympics. An entire day of scholastic and athletic competition, it is a highlight of every voyage, and this one was no exception. The Sea Olympics on my Fall 2000 voyage as a student were amazing, and I was my sea's spirit captain -- I lived on deck 3 starboard aft in the Andaman Sea then too. If it ain't broke don't fix it!

I'd been mentioning the Sea Olympics since my first sea meeting, and even went so far as to teach the old cheer I created in 2000:

Who da man?!
Andaman!

It is still as popular as it ever was... again...if it ain't broke.. :)

Finally the day arrived, weather perfect, sea eerily placid, like glass. Mouths agape, my sea decked out in orange, our official color, and met on the pool deck for a mini pep rally and group pic. It was the beginning of a truly triumphant day. The opening ceremonies were really fun, and my sea made me proud by dominating the ceremony with our spirit chant and torch made out of a foam pirate cannon (which one of my students donated after swiping it from a pirate ship tour in Cape Town :). We won first place in that event. I wasn't surprised. My sea is made up of the cool kids, the kids always skating on the line, getting into scrapes. It's a noisy sea of magnetic personalities, loudmouths and future leaders. My own little cellblock of beloved delinquents. I call them the Gridiron Gang, and I love 'em. Finally they had a chance to channel that restless energy.

The day went by in a flash, with my sea dominating the many events and challenges like the spelling bee, synchronized swimming routine, flip cup, water pong, pull ups, volleyball, makeup boy, make me laugh, pictionary, scattergories, scrabble, tug-o-war, dodgeball, banner contest, relay race, and don't forget the lyrics. It was all hilarious to watch, and demanding to judge -- I had to judge the water pong and don't forget the lyrics events. Only 2 headaches that I had that day.

The end of the day brought an amazing pic-worthy sunset, and the 7th pool deck filled with excited and happy students. Barbeque was served, and ice cream, and the music was pumping. Many students jumped in the pool fully clothed! Everyone was sweaty and exhausted and smiles were on every face. In the end, it was no surprise to learn that we'd won first place, but there was an upset when it was announced that the Balearic Sea, a small group of 27 members with the sea color of pink snatched 3rd place from the jaws of seas twice their size and more. When we heard that we'd won, the spirit and response was amazing. We danced and cheered for hours and are still riding the high!

Our victory pizza party on deck 6 is scheduled in a few days and I can't wait. More importantly than winning the prize-- the right to exit the ship first in San Diego, avoiding the long wait in customs -- we built an amazing team. My sea has spirit, and they love me right now... I intend to bask in it! It's like I've been known to say...

If you're having sea problems I feel bad for you son
They got 7 losing seas
Andaman ain't one
Hit me!

Hello Mauritius

My time in the tiny island of Mauritius flew by, despite the concept of "island time". This teeny weeny island east of Madagascar has the distinction of being the only place that I've ever been that I didn't know how much I wanted to visit until I got there. Convoluted, but sincere... that's me :)

I was completely ambivalent about what seemed like a mystery stop on our worldwide voyage of discovery. As has become the case whenever I was ambivalent, I now acknowledge that was nothing more than ignorance and a lack of intellelectual curiousity on my part. I'm glad that grace covers a multitude of sins, because I got the opportunity to travel there anyway and expand my mind, and an expanded mind never returns to its original shape. Mauritius is now a part of my reality, and it will always jump off the map to me, despite the fact that it is miniscule in the scheme of themes, a freckle on the face of the Indian Ocean, for all intents and purposes.

My entire three days on the island, mostly spent in or near the capital city of Port Louis, were endlessly illuminating. I enjoyed taking a water taxi from the ship to the well-developed and picturesque waterfront area, visiting the colorful and bustling Central Market, the idyllic and tranquil Trou aux Biches for a stay in a private villa and day of white sandy beaches and crystalline water. A couple of friends and I chartered a private glass-bottomed boat for some snorkeling in the reefs just off the coast of the water. I turned down offers of tubing and parasailing for napping in the sun in the vain hope that the sun would fry the bacteria replicating in my congested sinuses with the same alacrity as it fried my skin (I'm like 13 shades darker... at least).

I even made it to the Sir Seewoosagur Ramgoolam Botanical Gardens. The amazing flora and the amazing opportunity to be in the oldest botanical garden in the Southern Hemisphere and one of the premier gardens in the world. the giant water lilies there are not to be missed. Among other wonders I saw coffee, tea, camphor, flame-of-the-forest, and many herbal remedies being grown. There was also a 250 year old Banyan tree that was at least 10 feet wide -- a baby sapling as those trees are thought to grow to be over 1,000 years old. It was worth the bug bites to see the sights there, as well as the giant turtles and the deer. To top it all off, a 30 minute public bus ride provided some of the best people watching of the trip.

Mauritius is endlessly diverse, multi-ethnic and fascinating, with most of the population being a exotic swirling mixture of Indian, African, Malay, etc. Hindus, Muslims, and Christians that co-exist peacefully there, seemingly without effort. For instance, the day we left was Divali, the Indian festival of light. The entire island took a holiday, shutting down early and stringing lights on homes and in the town squares. There was a night fireworks show that we watched off the deck of the ship. And yet the muslim call to prayer still went out on schedule and the church bells still rang at noon. How soothing for the heart, and how hopeful for the other areas of the world that defy such simple and cooperative living!

One thing that I would remis if I didn't mention is that the state bird is the dodo... at first glance this might seem totally random. (and second, and third...) Why is a long extinct, half-mythical, no-flying, half-squab, half-ostrich looking thing with purportedly disgusting and bitter meat the national bird?  How was it even hunted into extinction in the 18th century if it tasted so frickin narsty? Even though the bird is printed on towels, flags, and clothes, no one could give me an answer to the question. The only actual evidence of this bird is 2 rusty dusty skeletons in the museum! I would return for a visit to investigate that mystery alone.

PS: The McDonald's there has a doorman. A doorman!

Hello (again) Robben Island

I've been to Robben Island before, but today seemed like the first time all over again, and I'm not sure whether that is because I am older and wiser, or  because I have forgotten everything that I'd read in  The Long Walk to Freedom (Mandela's autobiography). It little matters.

Robben Island is a place with a history of torture, illness, and imprisonment. As a former WWII garrison, a prison many times over, the solitary confinement place of Dr. Robert Sobukwe, and a forrmer leper colony, it is nothing if not another one of the world's oubliettes, a place where were disrobed of our humanity and annihlated one another, just like the slave dungeons on the West African Coast. What is it about this continent, these dark skinned tribes, that brought out the such fear, such aggression? All I could do while I was walking through the prison, listening to our guide, a former political prisoner  at Robben Island having only been released in 1991, was marvel at the power of fear to rule over logic, rationality, morality, or even basic humanity.

Prisoners were given no shoes, no beds, no succor. Depending on your race or what part of the prison you were in, you may not even have been permitted to have cigarettes or jam on your toast. Beatings were the result of forbidden political conversations, and applause was hidden as the rubbing of hands. A simple newspaper was not allowed; prisoners slit open tennis balls and stuffed messages inside, lobbing them over the walls to each other, praying for perfect accuracy. And yet...

Nelson Mandela wrote his autobiography there, twice (the first one was found while he was writing it and destroyed). Many of the prisoners earned multiple degrees from the University of South Africa while there. It was the birthplace of the current South African government in that the first black politicians were almost exclusively ex-prisoners there. It is now a monument and a museum. People still live on Robben Island. Hope rears its head once again. There's something so audacious about it, so indomitable. Humbling.

This is not to say that South Africa's, indeed humanity's, long walk to freedom is complete, or even truly begun. But these ain't no baby steps neither. So to my South African brothers and sisters I say: run on.

Hello (again) Amy Biehl Foundation!

On October 8th I led a semester at sea service visit to the Amy Biehl Foundation Trust in Cape Town. I was so excited! This is the first repeat port and trip that I've taken on SAS -- I first fell in love with this organization when I visited Cape Town as a student on the Fall 2000 voyage. I've never forgotten Amy Biehl's story: her passion for the anti-apartheid movement, her horrible, senseless death, her family's remarkable response, and even the response of the South African people. It still has the power to giveme goosebumps. I've always also felt a special connection as a Stanford student, since Amy was also.

This time, it was really special to get the opportunity to eat breakfast with some of the staff members and give them a tour of the ship. I love instant connections with friendly people; by the end our time together, we were all fast friends. I also loved meeting their new director, Kevin Chaplan, and his energy and enthusiasm for the work of racial reconciliation and development in the townships moved me. I could feel the aura of disbelief when he spoke to the group, him being a white man with a banking background who suddenly quit his 25 year career and started a foundation to promote racial harmony in the post-apartheid era. It took only a few minutes for his genuineness to break down that disbelief and turn it into the bemused chagrin you can only feel when you're wrong and happy about it.

Even more awe-inspiring, however, is the story of Amy's killers. Amy was dragged from her car, stoned, and stabbed to death during an anti-apartheid rally while dropping friends home. She had been unaware of the rally, and the friends lived in the township. 4 young black men were convicted of the crime and sentenced to 18 years imprisonment each. However, after apartheid ended they sought asylum with the truth and reconciliation commission, which was granted with the full blessing of the Biehl family (in fact, they were there and spoke in favor of the proceedings). The part that is even over the top of that is that 2 of the young men were then taken in by the Biehl family and now work for the foundation! One is the program director and the other one is the sports director for the kids afterschool programs. They keep in touch regularly with Linda Biehl, Amy's mom, and even call her "Makulu" (grandmother). The transformative power of forgiveness, redemption, and absolution are all quasi-religious talking points for so many people, it is absolutely paralyzing to see them applied in a secular world. It's a revelation to me to see the humbling, penetrating power it has as applied to the politics of South Africa  -- and this is secular! I am moved to think of what it must have been like while Jesus's message was first sweeping the world, changing the course of human history as the physical embodiment of God's forgiveness to every person.

After a morning in their offices learning about the organization and Amy's story, we had an amazing traditional !Xhosa lunch at Mzoni's Place in the Gugulunthe township and went around to different schools there visiting the Amy Biehl Foundation's after school programs. The foundation provides music, dance, drama, and visual arts programs to empower kids, keep them out of trouble, and finish school (there is a high attrition rate). The students performed for us, and they were amazing! I itched to dance and sing along -- I could barely keep my butt in the seat! I had to settle for taking video. My plan: to study the moves and take So You Think You Can Dance by storm! Check for me!

Molo Khayelitsha

molo: hello (!xhosa language)
Khayelitsha: youngest and fastest growing township in Cape Town, South Africa

Today I visited the Khayelitsha Township on the outskirts of Cape Town, an official Semester at Sea sponsored activity. The details sound cringe-worthy -- a bus full of white students and one black person, yours truly, driving in and around the township, cameras clicking. The reality, however, was something quite different. It's never felt so great to be completely wrong and leave an experience with expectations unmet.

Our intrepid young tour guide, Njungo, started off the tour by doing his best to allay any fears or discomfort with the idea of being in a tour group headed for a township -- an insightful and necessary statement to make, as I was already headed there and we had barely left the waterfront area! What had seemed to make so much sense when I signed up (indeed, the only safe way to enter a township is as a part of such a group or with family and friends) now seemed the stupidest idea I'd ever had. Thank God for stupid ideas...

Njungo gave us lots of information about the history of townships and how and why they formed, as well as helpful statistics to help us understand where they are currently. Much of it was familiar to me, but I enjoyed the refresher. The townships are a visible byproduct of the horrible apartheid regime of forced relocation after the Group Areas Act of 1950 (ridiculous name, I know) and migrations of blacks from rural to urban areas in search of work. When apartheid became official with the National Party's election in 1948, racial groups were created on the basis of some really random physical characteristics. Based on racial profiling, the different districts in Cape Town were razed and people were forcibly removed from their homes and relocated to townships. In addition to these relocations, shantytowns sprang up on the outskirts of Cape Town and even the townships themselves due to rural migration. These places were known for being plagued with just about every housing (under)development problem imaginable -- crime, lack of education, unemployment, sanitation, no running water, electricity, lack of infrastructure (roads, police stations, hospitals). This is still largely the case in many areas of townships, but things are changing. With the end of apartheid in 1994, racial segregation policies ended, causing a migration of many blacks back into the city and leaving townships behind. Khayelitsha, however, is the youngest and fastest growing township with 1-2 million people living there. Although the same struggles exist there as in many townships -- i.e. unemployment is 60% or higher and many people just walk the streets -- there is a vibrant sense of hope, ubuntu (community), and an entrepreneurial and striving spirit towards taking ownership and pride of their Khayelitsha, or "new place" in the !Xhosa language.

We arrived at the township and started by visiting the Khayelitsha Craft Market, a place where some of the local artisans showcase and sell their crafts. There was also a marimba band there playing music. Many of the local crafts were quite clever -- there were bowls made from spare telephone wire and bottlecap figurines along with paintings and handpainted cloth. I didn't even have the strength to bargain for the bracelet that I bought. I figured that the least I could do was put some $ into the local economy there. I did fear that the entire trip might turn out to be a junket around to various shops (horrible flashbacks of Morocco), but that turned out not to be the case. The local schoolchildren were just getting out of school then and they filled the streets. Many of them were curious to see us. All of them were cute and energetic.

After we left the craft market we visited the Phelani Nutrition Project, where women are educated and empowered as well as taught to weave wonderful tapestries and print handpainted cloth. We were able to visit the looms and watch the women work. I was amazed to see that all the looms were handlooms or ones with giant foot pedals like an organ! We spent too little time there.

The next stop was the famous Vicky's Bed & Breakfast, "the smallest hotel in South Africa", operating right smack in the middle of the township. Although Vicky was not there, her assistant was more than happy to show us their 6 rooms and tell us the wonderful story of how that business got started. I was proud to hear about this intrepid woman, whose spirit of entrepreneurship would not allow her to watch as tour buses full of tourists drove through her township, windows alight with camera flashes, and no one getting off to visit, meet citizens, or spend a dime there. Her example spread the idea of tourism, B&Bs, and jobs outward to her neighbors. One of the most impactful things that Vicky's assistant said about their business was "our neighborhood is our security". In other words, far from being jealous, undermining the business, or robbing their guests, the neighborhood was in full support of visitors coming to see, learn and explore. The neighborhood is security enough for all who stay there to be safe. They depend on one another. How powerful. I find that South Africa is a place full of such wise lessons.

Our final stop was at the Kopanong B&B to meet Thope Lekau. A big beautiful woman with a robust personality, she reminded me of home. She even smelled like some of my favorite ladies from church! She told us the story of how she'd traveled to the University of Pittsburgh for a special fellowship and come back to Cape Town with the idea for her business over a nice spread of ginger beer, juice, tea, cookies, tarts, and a local pastry (I can't remember the name, tasted like cold beignets with no powdered sugar :). She was enthralling. If ech person there has even a part of her spirit or commitment to their community they cannot fail to reach their goals. We took a brief walking tour of the neighborhood that turned into quite the merry parade with children from all over coming to join us, and several of the students creating a joyful havoc by blowing bubbles and handing out stickers. They felt no fear in grabbing the hand of a student and just enjoying a walk with us. Many people came out of their homes to wave and shout "Molome!" It was awesome.

I learned so much from my trip today. It was excellent to see so much progress. There  was barely any electricity and running water in the townships that I saw in 2000, let alone home-building and replacement projects 100% funded by the government. I was uplifted to the depths of my soul, and smiled so hard my cheeks hurt.

Another interesting thing that happened that I can't neglect to mention is that everyone was curious about me. They kept asking me where I was from, surprised to hear me say the US. Is it the 'fro? If I didn't say a word, I could probably walk down the streets anywhere and be taken for a local. I find that I am enjoying this very much. That and the astonishment when people ask me my age and where I am studying. It's great! I told the tour guide my age and he refused to believe it, going so far as to not-so-subtly offer 50 cattle to my father as a dowry price! All in all a good day's work!

Hello Rough Waters

The thing about a voyage like this is that time can really get away from you. For instance, I currently have no idea what the date is, let alone what day of the week. I woke up this morning and spent a lazy morning working from the "home office" (read: bed) and didn't realize that I'd failed to set my clock back by an hour until the noon announcements startled me by blaring into my quiet sanctuary at eleven o'clock. See what I mean?

Now that we're on the same page, I can talk about the current state of affairs on this bizarre floating campus. The seas have been really rough the past few days. I'm talking up and down, round and round, rat in a rattled cage rough. The kind of rough that makes your eyeballs ache and the food in your belly rhythmically revolt in time with the waves. Now, mostly, I perversely enjoy this kind of motion -- keeps things interesting, and yes I am one of those people that rides roller coasters without the need for a dare. At first, I smiled and giggled, safe in the knowledge that I am generally immune to seasickness. Now, my smile has faded, my brow wrinkeled, and I am tired of grabbing railings and being puched to and fro by forces outside of my control. My general immunity to seasickness is over and the headache and mild vertigo is enough to make me scream. Is this me getting old, or this voyage getting old, or both?

I would end this post with my excited feelings to be headed to Cape Town, but even that is checked by the fact that I drew the short straw on the port duty calendar and have to spend the first 2 nights in port on call overnight to deal with any problems that should arise (read: drunk students). So what I am really living toward and looking forward to is the 3 day of my time in Cape Town. Until then... hello rough waters.

Hello Neptune Day

It started at 7:30 am in the morning, September 26, 2009 with a parade of banging pots and pans. The secret and sacred Neptune Day tradition of semester at sea began. A rite of passage shrouded in mystery (or so we'd like to believe), the day is always on the calendar of any voyage crossing the equator. Today we crossed the equator and now sail in the Southern Hemisphere. For all pollywogs, or maritime equator-crossing virgins, the day includes a lot of surprising activities to commemorate their transition into shellbacks, maritime equator-crossing veterans. As I sailed as a student on SAS Fall 2000, I had the honor and privilege of participating in Neptune Day as a member of King Neptune's Royal Court instead of just stumbling around cow-eyed, like most of the pollywogs.
My role: the Royal Torturer, commander of the royal guard, and jailer of the deep. My real role: corrall the kids and keep them from killing each other. Mission accomplished. I left the pool deck after the last person performed the Neptune rite of passage. Let's just say, the decks needed swabbing, the pool needed draining, the filters needed cleaning, and everyone needed a bath. I was no exception!

Hello Noyam

I thought that nothing could beat my Andalusian flamenco experience in Spain... enter the Noyam Dance Institute located in the town of Dodowa, Ghana. If I had known what was waiting for me while I flopped in the bed like a beached whale yesterday, cursing the early hour my alarm clock, I might have arisen with a better attitude. After way too little sleep, I was obliged to get up, grab a quick breakfast of a croissant and oj, then jook and jump on a too-big tour bus across the sprawling metropolis of Accra into the forest.
The bus couldn't even make it to the front door of the place, the roads were so narrow and unpaved. At seeing this, my heart started to lift. I hadn't been at all sure what to expect when I signed up for the innocuously titled Drumming & Dance Group B. I didn't even know what to wear, but was reassured by the fact that each and every item of clothing that I'd packed is completely disposable.

After a five minute uphill walk through the forest, we arrived to the Noyam Dance Institute facility. I was suprised and pleased to be handed an itinerary for our day and a menu of our lunch choices. I entered the placeto find a large open air auditorium dominated by a large stage. Although the building is covered to protectfrom rain, it cleverly has no windows in the auditorium as well as exposed rafters. My excitement hit a fevered pitch to note that according to the agenda I'd been handed, we were going to spend our time not listening to a lecture or watching a performance, but in dance and drumming classes! Despite my lousy wardrobe choice of a tank and long white skirt, I couldn't be more pleased.

We started with a tour of their facility while we sipped on coconut juice straight from the coconut. Noyam includes a library, small dormitory, and outdoor lecture circle. Next, classes began. We started with a warm-up. At the warm-up I could hardly contain myself. I had noticed several things: the fact that this group performed for Obama during his visit to Ghana, the framed Alvin Ailey poster autographed by Judith Jamison herself, the way all the instructors carried themselves, and finally the structure of the warm and across the floor exercisess that I had stumbled onto a fully functional dance company and was taking their master class! I nearly squealed with delight.

After the warm-up and some across the floor exercises, everyone was sweaty and ready to broken up into groups. During the first two hours we learned the Kpanlogo dance and accompanying traditional songs. This dance was really fun, performed in round counts with drum signal change indicating a change in movements. After practicing and perfecting an entrance and exit, each group perfomed on stage for the others to live drum accompaniment from the instructors. I made sure to get video (can't load right now!). It was high impact and difficult enough to challenge, but not too difficult for every participant to have a prayer of getting it right. Delight and a sheen of sweat coated every face in the room.

After the performance, we had a great buffet style lunch of fried chicken or fried fish with jollof rice, a red rice like jambalaya without the peppery spice or meat. In addition to that there was a tomato and cucumber salad, plaintains, and best of all... greens!!!! Everything was homemade and made my tastebuds explode. I nearly cried, and everyone exclaimed over the tasty lunch. We were served such large portions that I feared for our ability to continue exercising at the same level we had before. There was even a huge Ghanian fruit salad dessert of pineapple, banana, and water melon. Luckily we had an entire hour to eat and digest.

The second half of the master class was spent in groups again, this time split into drummers and dancers. We learned the Gota dance, a dance perfomed with male/female duos. Again, it is performed in round counts with drum signals guiding the dance. After practice with our partners, the group performed to the accompaniment of the drummer group. At the end of the intense class, hands were chapped and red, feet were dusty and beaten, and hearts were filled and open. Last, the company performed 2 peices for us: a traditional women's dance, the Atsia, was performed to the male drum accompaniment, and an African contemporary dance, The Dance of the Forest was performed to recorded music accompaniment. The Dance of the Forest in particular was impressive; it rivaled anything you can pay to see in American dance theater and seemed to shock some of our group participants. I was proud to have instruction and interaction with them. Dance and movement is a visceral and important form of communication, I have been blessed to have the opportunity to communicate this way in 2 of the cultures we have visited so far; it's my goal to continue the pattern -- and get the video!

The 2 hour ride back was calm and uneventful except for a chocolate stop at a Shell station somewhere. Most of us were too tired to cause any trouble. Coated in dust, sweat, and laughter, we returned to the ship having truly experienced Ghanian drumming and dance.

Hello Heritage

I went to the Cape Coast castle and slave dungeons today. I only spent 45 minutes there out of my whole day, but each minute is a stone pressing against my heart. You can never prepare to experience something like what I did today. All the black history classes, lessons, readings, and lectures are as nothing in the face of simply standing in a place and being swept away by the fact that on this very spot, in this very place, one of the greatest human tragedies in history was perpetrated, one that directly led to your existence, and one that you despise on a level so visceral it makes you nauseous. It is a place of devoid of humanity, but not of hope. I am living proof.

I started out the day by taking the shuttle from Tema, where the ship is docked, to Oxford St, in Osu, the tourist area of Accra. I was to meet my new friend Kwame, who volunteered so graciously and selflessly to spend his entire day showing me around. Kwame is Ashanti, and his business is kente cloth (I got a great one). We caught a coach up to Cape Coast, a journey of about 2 hours on the bus. On the way to the castle, we saw a large group of people dancing in the streets in a procession, dressed in red and black. There were so many of them that the traffic couldn't pass. Some of the men were dressed in drag, and wearing visible thongs and g strings! It reminded me of nothing so much as a second line in New Orleans -- there were drums, percussion, and horns. It looked like great fun. Kwame explained to me that it was a funeral procession (just like a jazz funeral) and that he could tell that the person that had passed away was a young person, because of the comedic aspects of the procession. It turns out that it considered a great joke in Ghana when men dress up as women and wear women's underwear -- I didn't have the heart to tell him about Southern Decadence in New Orleans and the gay pride demonstration. I am ever merciful. :)

We waited about 10 minutes for the tour at Cape Coast castle to begin. The castle is a white-washed complex that looks more like a fort than a castle. We began the tour in the male slave dungeon, where the men were held until they were loaded in slaveships, headed for the Americas, fated to pass through the door of no return. He told us about the lack of water, food, ventilation, about the Mandingos and other rebellious warriors that were starved into surrender. The way they were fed, by throwing food from above, the way death and disease wasted away men, eating at their minds as well as their flesh. We visited an altar in one of the slave chambers where a traditional libation was performed and where many wreaths were laying on the ground from visiting families of the Diaspora, including the Obamas.

It wasn't until we got to the women's chambers that I started to get nauseated. The things that were done in that place to my people, to human beings period, stretch the bounds of the human imagination. A monument to hypocrisy, the first Anglican church in Ghana was built right on top of the male slave dungeon. In addition to the dungeons where people were kept, we visited some places where slaves were punished. These were oubliettes, forgotten places, places where all goodness, light, decency, and hope were forgotten or abandoned. So much suffering, so much death, so little hope, and no escape. These were the fires that forged my ancestors. These are the building blocks of our history, our collective spirit.

I can barely handle the idea of being their progeny, their hope, their legacy. What a responsibility! As much as I've learned about the slave trade, it's all been from the destination side. This was a new experience in that I was able to trace the triangle of pain to it's origin on the magnificent coasts of Ghana, once the Gold Coast. I thank God for the opportunity to be favored with such an experience, and take my responsibility to share it seriously.

Hello Habitat

Today is my second day in Ghana, and I spent it volunteering with a Habitat for Humanity project with a small community near the town of Kibi (chee-bay) in the Easter Region. Despite the 4 hour bus ride there and back (yes, you read that correctly) it was a day of purpose, and I was greatly blessed by it. I was able to see the industrial port city of Tema give way to the large capital city of Accra, and then that city gave way to roads through red dust and humid forest. Finally we were there. I must admit that despite my fascination with the flora and the roadside sights, I slept for the majority of the ride there and back -- sleep has been hard to come by lately, for various reasons.

I was excited to learn that I was to be part of a team laying brick for a home that already had an owner waiting to move in. The structure was built of red clay brick (cast from river sand, red clay, and cement) and mortared with a mixture of cement and sand. I was obliged to mix great batches of mortar and fetch and carry both mortar and bricks. Far from the modern building sites in America, that meant walking for 5 minutes each way and carrying the bricks back on your head, one at a time! Each one weighed between 35 and 50 lbs depending on the size of the block. Scaffolding was built out a few boards and nails. The real driving force of the project was the skills of the artisans and builders who worked there. They did so much with so little, really. Home Depot would not make it here. The average total cost of home construction is 2500 cedis, or $3600 USD.

Other adventures including making use of the bathroom facilities (you don't want to know) and eating a wonderful lunch of chicken, jollof rice, cabbage, and a tomato paste sauce. It smelled so good when they uncovered the pot -- I caught a whiff of that cabbage smell and missed home really badly. A full belly cured my homesickness real quick!

On the way back to the ship we made an unscheduled stop along the road to a local cocoa farm. Cocoa is the official cash crop of the Ghanaian economy and they are the #1 exporter of cocoa beans in the world. I was surprised to learn that the cocoa bean comes from a large greenish-yellow pod, the inside of which is slimy and white. Each of the pods contain white skinned seed pods, and inside are the mauve colored beans which must be dried to take away their bitter flavor and make them into the chocolate we all know and love. According to the guide, the Ghanaian cocoa drying process is far superior to other exporters because they sun dry their beans and do not use artificial means. The guide showed us that fresh cocoa is safe to eat, and that sucking the slimy white coating off is a tasty snack for many. I tried it and it tasted like banana pancake batter with a twist of lemon. Yum!

Hello Fatigue

It's a world of sunrises... and sunsets. Hello fatigues and sighs.

Today is a down day, and there's pretty much no rhyme or reason to it. After the frenetic activity of the past few days, veritable ocean swells, comes the slowing, the pause -- the dips. Ghana tomorrow.

And no excitement whatsoever. But you know what? That's okay. One thing that I can see in myself as a two-time voyager is the growth towards, balance, acceptance, and a lack of expectation in my travels, perceptions, and emotions therein. The quest for the perfect trip, the judgement of my experiences as "authentic" or no -- all of these are vain imaginings. Instead, I am choosing to do my best to live in the here and now, to breathe and BE, and to know that whatever comes my way is what is meant. That is the true authentic traveling experience. And so with fatigue comes stillness and peace.

Feliz Compleanos!

Better late than never, eh? Here's a quick 1,000 words describing my fabulous birthday all over again for those that missed it. September 5, 2009 will never be forgotten in my memory and will live on in infamy!

Hello Whirlwind

This blog is aptly named...

The past few days have been a friggin whirlwind of activity. I am unsure how I am moving through it all, but the passage of time is inevitable and so, it seems, is the certainty of my success. Is it the sea?

Yesterday saw my first Explorer's Seminar, Practical Ways to Maintain Your Health During the Voyage. I am pleased to report is was well attended and that students who came seemed to get something out of it, as we discussed practical strategies for getting proper sleep, exercise, diet and hydration while on the voyage.

Also, my Chez Ali at Sea skit play to a packed, enthusiatic, and impressed shipboard community during last night's talent show. I also performed as a judge. What a show! The talent! The no talents! It was pretty spectacular.

I'm proud of myself for resisting the natural urge and urging of others to perform in talent shows, parties, etc. I feel that I am doing very well remembering that I am a staff member on this voyage, not a student, and that it is for the students that I am here. The spotlight belongs to them -- this is their time, mine has passed (Fall 2000 FOREVER!). I feel so honored to be a part of their experience, to see them learn and grow.

The happy whirlwind continues today. I led Zumba today to a packed Union, with plans to do it again on the next no class day (despite the clamoring to do it more often), and will be moderating an international healthcare discussion today during the Explorer's Seminar time. Whew! At this rate, I might be too tired to leave the ship! :)

Hello Flipper!

First dolphin sighting today! I love life @ sea. Just off the port bow during lunch, a school of at least 10 dolphins swam next to the ship, jumping and flipping for 15 minutes or so. Wow!

Hello Family

Today I had dinner with my kids from the extended family program, and it was a such a warm and loving feeling. It was probably the first thing that I've done so far on this voyage even approaching what I experienced on Fall 2000, and it hasn't escaped my notice that it was a deeply personal event, one in which we serve each other's need for family. I'm proud of myself for requesting random students that I haven't already met through common interest, common ethnicity, or me being their LLC -- I need to stay in practice ratcheting myself out of my common zone and into learning. I am excited, proud and expectant after tonight -- I have agreat feeling about all of this, and about my ability to touch more student's lives, and in doing so serve them. Any blessings to me are residual effects.

Salut Maroc

salut: Exclamation (a) (Infml) hi;
Maroc: noun Morocco.

Salut Maroc! It's my fourth day in Morocco, and I am only now getting a chance to blog it. So much to see, so much to do... I've seen things, learned things, smelled things, touched things, and bought things. I've had conversations in English, French, and Spanish. I've drank my share of mint tea and been served many Morrocan meals in beautiful tajines (awesome serving dishes -- I bought one come to my house for dinner and see for yourself).

Highlights:

I spent the day in the medina in the souks. This was hands down my best day in Morroco, and I don't care how it sounds to say such a thing. I spent the first three days in a timed race, breathing recycled bus AC and trying not to let my butt fall asleep between rushed and force-fed tour information. It was great to see a lot of things, but I felt more than a bit like an overeater at an entire city made of buffets. Today, however was another matter. For the first time in days, I was in control of my schedule, and I did exactly what I wanted when I wanted. I used my French and was pleasantly surprised to learn that I'm nowhere near as rusty as I thought. I made fast friends with merchants and cab drivers, real faces of Casablanca -- Mustaffah, Hameem, Said. I am assured they all gave their African French-speaking sister "good price":) In a moment of true Machiavellian genius, I wore my Obama tee shirt. Let me tell you, he is loved here, and by virtue of my black face and American accent, so am I. I have plans to break out this tee shirt from here to Asia when I need to bargain. Bring it!

All the loot I bought litters the floor right now -- my room has become Ali Baba's Cave. I'm still wearing a Cheshire grin and shopper's glow. At least until I check my bank account balance. I may have bumped up the Moroccan GDP by a few percentage points with my activity!!

I went to Marrakech and the Ourika Valley. The last two days were spent on a jaunt to Marrakech, the beautiful red city and the tourist capital of Morocco. I have to admit that Marrakech dazzles the eyes and the red clay and stucco buildings and walls are the exotic sights of Arabian Night Tales, but the reality is that I didn't get to feel it, to immerse in it with the tour bus barrier. Traveling with a group of five is hard enough, but a group of 85 quintessentially American, obvious, mostly white tourists?!?!? This is the stuff of nightmares. Somebody call Wes-frikkin-Craven! The entire trip was spent either being herded here and there like a recalcitrant head of beef or being henpecked to death for every imagined cent in my pockets. We couldn't have been more fleeced if they had turned us upside down and shaken us! Images I won't forget include being hunted by hustlers in the valley so determined they follewed us up and down the mountain on mopeds -- true Hell's Angels. I also won't forget being dropped off like chum for an ocean of starving sharks in the main square in Marrakesh -- hands grabbing yours and squirting henna goo, men dropping monkeys on your shoulders, snake charmers draping the unsuspecting with reptilian necklaces! I didn't buy a damn thing. I've never been in such a terrible bargaining position in my life.

Two words: Chez Ali. Ever been to Arabian Knights or Medieval Times in Orlando? Me neither. And now I never have to go because Chez Ali has all that beat. It was the most cheesy, ridiculous, random, and bizarre thing I've ever been obliged to participate in while studying abroad. I would as well spend my money on a trip to Dolly Land. Picture it: mandatory entrance picture, lamb chili with raw eggs, roving bands of tribal dancers to interrupt every course of your meal/play in your hair/ scream-ululate in your ear, stinky horses spraying mud in your face, camel rides, 21 gun salute to nothing in particular, belly dancing, Star Wars soundtrack, O fortuna fireworks spectacular, fires close enough to singe your eyebrows, and a Latin disco finale. Am I kidding? You wish.

Casablanca City Tour and the Hassan II Mosque. Truly, the city tour was fluff -- it was nice to get oriented to what's around, and the stained glass in the Notre Dame de Lourdes church was stunning, but the true spectacular sight of the first day in Casablanca was the Hassan II Mosque. This place should be on the list of world wonders! I can't even describe the sights, and the idea of 30,000 people worshipping together inside, praying 5 times a day, is unbelievable. It's Ramadan right now, and in the evening a bright green laser shoots from the top of the minaret towards Mecca, and you know that less than a mile away from the ship there are 100,000 people worshipping Allah in unison, on one accord, performing perfect ritualistic devotions. It boggles the mind. There are no words.

All in all, Morocco is an exotic world, one that I was glad to explore, and have plans to explore tomorrow. If I time it just right, I may be able to visit Rick's Cafe to watch the movie Casablanca for the first time, or a Hammam, or the beach. Wish me bon chance!

Hello Seville

On to Seville! We spent 2 days there in this larger city farther north of Cadiz. Highlights included:

1) A hop on/hop off double decker bus tour. We hopped on and alternately napped and listened. I am positive I absorbed the entire tour by osmosis :)

2) Ice cream!

3) Interesting lessons. For instance, in Spanish hotels, your door key card has to go into a slot next to the door in orderto turn on the AC and electricity. Had to sit in a dark hotbox for half an hour to learn that. Also, Horse drawn carriages look better than they smell.

4) Jamon iberico and croquettes! Yum yum!

5) Spanish trains! They are cleanest and most efficient trains that I have ever been on.

Hello Cadiz!

Spanish Birthdays are the best!

We arrived in Cadiz on a beautifully sunny September 5th. I got up before sunrise to watch the ship sail into the first of many exotic ports. The city of Cadiz, the oldest city in Western Europe, painted in the pastel shades of sunrise isn't a sight to be missed. Ancient city walls, cathedrals, and buildings in a stunning mix of Spanish and Mudajer styles reflected the light stoicly, proclaiming their resilience and hardiness in the moist, briny air.

My first activity was the city orientation tour, in which we drove through old Cadiz, and into the maze of cobblestone streets and urban canyons, streets so narrow that light could barely enter. Cast iron detailing added a familiar air and suddenly my heart was heavy with missing New Orleans. We visited the archeaological museum where we saw artificats mapping the entire history of the settlement of Cadiz, a once island turned isthmus on the Atlantic Coast at the gate to the Mediterranean, founded by the ancient Phoenicians, conquered again and again, partially destroyed but never defeated. There were even sarcophagi!

Next on to the main cathedral in Cadiz, a jaw-dropping architectural feat. We even went down into the catacombs underneath. I tried not to breath in that air, heavy with damp and decay. The body of Saint Victoria added a ghoulish element that had me skedaddling out of there after the minimum amount of time! Next we headed to the cathedral museum to see amazing artifacts donated by the devout and paraded through the streets during Corpus Christi or Santa Semana. It was a long walk through town, but worth it to soak it all in.

After resting up, it was time for the Andalusian Flamenco Night. the excursion was part of the classes for Professor Agustin Reyes-Torres, but through a mixture of charm and a pretty sophisticated whisper campaign (if I do say so myself) I had turned it into Danni's Birthday Party! It was a blast! We arrived to a small bullring where we were greeted by refreshments and seated for the flamenco ring exhibition and a cow exhibition as well. The ring was alive with flamenco dancers and prancing, dancing horses. The highlight of that portion was probably the cow exhibition, however. Far from being the bloody bullfighting sport we had spent the evening terrorizing ourselves with, it was a strange aggressivedance between two tweenies -- one an adorable Spanish teen matador and an adolescent bull calf. We gasped and gaped as they charged each other. What drama!

Next we skipped over to a restaurant for the flamenco dinner show as the sunset. Through a friggin cloud of bloodthirsty mosquitos. I went into ninja mode and didn't get bitten, although others were not so fortunate -- one friend counted 11 bites from the 3 minutes of walking!

It was worth it by the time we'd gotten to the tables, drapped in white, decorated with lanterns and candelabras. Fresh tapas were laid out on the tables, and there was sangria and wine. the ambience was perfect for the flamenco show that followed -- the venue intimate, the performance energetic and passionate. I was enthralled. I have no idea how many times I screamed Ole! (probably too many)

And then... the coup de grace. Agustin gets up and announces "it's someone's birthday!" And suddenly I am onstage (ok, I wasn't completely surprised) and everyone is singing. I am touched and blushing a bit. But then I am flushed with excitement when he shouts "And now she will dance!" And there I am -- doing my best to follow the movements of the dancers as we circle each other, wrists wringing, backs straight and proud, heels tapping synchopated, staccato beats on the ground. I guess I did pretty damn good, because they were impressed! Feliz Compleanos to me!

My adventure ended with another jaunt into Cadiz after we returned. We went to a late night joint and starving, ordered hamburguesas. I ordered mine in perfect Spanish, to my pride. And when the fried pink mystery meat on bun arrived and my fries were doused with mayonnaise, I only smiled and dug in. It was damn good too! :)

Hello Expansion

The vastness of the ocean is the perfect metaphor for the oncoming expansion. More and more conversations with these amazing young lives makes me believe that even I, with my previous experience will not be to predict the oncoming expansion. Like a supernova, this ship will bubble and percolate, full of ideas, new opinions, etc. I'm sure to say hello to decompression at some point as well.

Hello Cultural Preport: A Liveblog

Liveblog: 1st Cultural Pre-port to Cadiz, Spain

20:02 hrs --We begin!

20:03 hrs -- It's going to be a panel between our 2 interport students, the interport lecturer, Augustin & Tammy, and Maria Lopez-Solas.

20:04 -- Serrat? The greatest Spanish songwriter. Didn't know that. Have to get the cd now, or download on itunes.

20:06 -- There are 27 countries in the European Union. Wowzer. Spain joined in 1996.

20:07 -- I had NO IDEA there was such an overarching hierarchical structure to the EU! Clearly, I can't afford to nap anymore in global studies.

20:09 -- Spain is a decentralized democracy. There are "autonomic communities" there that operate quite separately from the central gov. Maybe they we can hook something like this up for the US.

20:15 -- Multi-party system of Spain is best explained by dueling professors with different beliefs! Is the King of Spain a nice guy or the devil? We'll never know.

20:17 -- Spanish is not the only language spoken in Spain. Cattalan, basque, Majorca, etc... these are apparently all acknowledged, but controversy still exists.

20:19 -- Empanadas! I have plans for those. That and tapas. Get ready, baby!

20:21 -- Queso manchevo (yum!) Paella rocks. It has chicken and rabbit OR seafood. Don't pay more than 10 euros per person for a plate of Paella! Forewarned is forearmed.

20:24 -- Doggy bags are a no-no in Espana, apparently. It's about as polite as peeing on the floor.

20:25 -- Ensaimadas... creamy cake dessert. Jamon is apprently orgamically delicious. In the finest hams, the pigs are raised on a 100% oak nut diet. I wonder if I will go into anaphylaxis from one bite... according to them, it is worth braving death to try.

20:27 -- Wine! Vino! Spanish vintages are famous. And I will be too after I get done. Deportment IMMINENT.

Hello Sun

We've still got the rest of today and tomorrow to cross the Atlantic, but I think we've crossed some indefinable line in the ocean somewhere, because the sun came out today, both literally and figuratively. I had despaired a little over the past couple of days, foggy, damp, and forbidding days with uncertain, truculent seas, and deven more uncertain students on the inside. I remember waking up yesterday and looking out of my porthole only to think "what, are we sailing through the Bermuda Triangle or something?" Now those days are behind us.

Today there is evidence of an indefinable rise in the voyage spirits. A lot of friendships gelling, one huge mash-up dance party and bbq behind us, and I think we're looking up and getting a rhythm to things. Not to mention the rising excitement to debark in a few days in sunny Spain. I have the possible option of traveling to Gibraltar, although time is short and I may or may not do that. Should I stretch myself and possible miss something really special in Cadiz? I'm uncertain!

But one thing is sure -- I've crossed some white water already. Hello Sun!

Hello Global Studies

This is a liveblog.. .

I am sitting in the back of the Union, and the familiar glaze is falling over my eyes like a shutter on a window. Hello Global Studies.

I never thought I'd see the day. I still might not see it, since I'll probably fall asleep -- I went to bed at 430 hrs last night! Something about chickens, eggs grain, and a white guy named Cracker (i'm not kidding). I am filled with mirth at this -- some things never change. Poor students. And yet...

It's essential. And you always learn something. And it's a point of conversation for daily living here on the ship, and a common point for everyone. There is no global study abroad without that study aspect. And so we sit and sway, heads being forcibly stuffed with ideas, cultures, values, and controversies. It does indeed make you think. And yawn. :)

Hello Epiphany: The Art of Conversation

Some things never change. No one is exempt. Resistance is futile.



This experience will change you. The places you'll go, the things you'll see, the people you'll meet, right? Duh. That seems par for the course. But there is another thing. One that you won't have to wait for, something that takes place immediately -- and those are the amazing conversations. Overnight conversations, morning conversations, passing conversations, conversations over meals, talking until your throa closes, talking while tears leak out of your eyes, talking while snuggling. These are the evolutionary force of our travel. Everyone does it, no exceptions. Even the staff, apparently.



I just had my first one last night over a dew drinks while looking out of the window at a bright gibbon moon reflected for miles over the water. Hello Epiphany.