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. :)
Monday, August 31, 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Hello Embarkation Day
I'm blogging this on the fly...
I just spent the entire morning welcoming the student body onto the transformational voyage that will change their lives. Even as I rushed around, manning a position as the pinch in the pipe before baggage screening, I was thrown back to September 13, 2000, the day that I board the SS universe Explorer. Some things never change, and the more things change the more they stay the same. I could barely stop myself from grabbing each student and giving them a shake, determined to impress upon them each and every lesson I had learned during my voyage and could teach. Every warning, every precaution, every exaltation -- a wild-eyed Jane the Baptist.
I marveled at how identical families look, how much love they share, and how close some parents hover. I sighed at the quintessentially white American sense of entitlement, impatience, and lack of interpersonal sensitivity that has become our international sterotype. I snapped digital photos of smiling families holding one another with an impatient and more than slightly embarassed student in the center surrounded by two chin wobbling parents. I snickered at parents determined to watch their child go through the security line, snapping more photos than Jean Paul Gaultier's runway photographer.
Lastly, I was surprised by how many students left their parents with the plan to enter the ship, register, and run right back off to have lunch with their parents. Am I missing something here? After all the waiting, the long travel, the screening lines, etc, you would get to the ship and see your room and all the people waiting to meet you, to reveal themselves to you, and you would rush right off to enjoy ravioli with your parents?!?! Wow.
On ship time is 3 pm, and the ship departs for 5. Parents aren't allowed to stand on the dock and wave anymore, so most parents are meeting at the port and traveling to a nearby park to watch the ship go by. I remember my embarkation day in Vancouver, and the magical excited feelings I felt. I even remember what I was wearing. I also remember that never had the sun been brighter, the air more crisp, the future more limitless. I can still hear all those nautical flags and dancing and snapping in the wind. I can't wait for 5pm when it all begins!
I just spent the entire morning welcoming the student body onto the transformational voyage that will change their lives. Even as I rushed around, manning a position as the pinch in the pipe before baggage screening, I was thrown back to September 13, 2000, the day that I board the SS universe Explorer. Some things never change, and the more things change the more they stay the same. I could barely stop myself from grabbing each student and giving them a shake, determined to impress upon them each and every lesson I had learned during my voyage and could teach. Every warning, every precaution, every exaltation -- a wild-eyed Jane the Baptist.
I marveled at how identical families look, how much love they share, and how close some parents hover. I sighed at the quintessentially white American sense of entitlement, impatience, and lack of interpersonal sensitivity that has become our international sterotype. I snapped digital photos of smiling families holding one another with an impatient and more than slightly embarassed student in the center surrounded by two chin wobbling parents. I snickered at parents determined to watch their child go through the security line, snapping more photos than Jean Paul Gaultier's runway photographer.
Lastly, I was surprised by how many students left their parents with the plan to enter the ship, register, and run right back off to have lunch with their parents. Am I missing something here? After all the waiting, the long travel, the screening lines, etc, you would get to the ship and see your room and all the people waiting to meet you, to reveal themselves to you, and you would rush right off to enjoy ravioli with your parents?!?! Wow.
On ship time is 3 pm, and the ship departs for 5. Parents aren't allowed to stand on the dock and wave anymore, so most parents are meeting at the port and traveling to a nearby park to watch the ship go by. I remember my embarkation day in Vancouver, and the magical excited feelings I felt. I even remember what I was wearing. I also remember that never had the sun been brighter, the air more crisp, the future more limitless. I can still hear all those nautical flags and dancing and snapping in the wind. I can't wait for 5pm when it all begins!
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Hello Reality
Time for a reality check. Here are some things that I've been deluding myself about:
1) Keeping in touch. I bought a netbook, own an iphone, and despite knowing better, I realize that I have fully expected to be able to use them all the time while sailing. Even as I develop a program to encourage students to unplug themselves while on the voyage, I find myself shell-shocked and chagrined to be jonesing for a swift connection, Youtube, Skype, and pic uploads!
2) Allergies. One word: claritin. What was I thinking not to have procured a 112 day supply. I'm allergic to my bed, and I knew I would be -- I was when I sailed in January! Luckily, the next 2 ports are Halifax and Cadiz, places sophisticated enough to have universal healthcare and cheap, available medicine that can purchased on the cheap without prescriptions. Hell to the yeah.
3) Work. Oh yeah, I have a job to do. I knew this, I told other people this, and I am enjoying the hustle and bustle of meetings and brainstorms. It's easy to be an impressive whirlwind full of ideas and passion. But then there are the students, and the inevitable fears about how they will behave, etc... which is not to say that I won't fall instantly in love with them. Currently I am a smooth machine, spinning at full power, which makes them a bucket of monkey wrenches. Either way I'll be broken down, but will I ultimately recover to make a better, more efficient worker... or not?
4) The ship. It still rocks, both literally and figuratively. But will I still have the same blithe attitude after crossing the Atlantic, the Pacific? I signed up for 108 days of this madness!!!
5) I'm still an overachiever. I can't stop. I boarded the ship with one mission: to serve the students and make this the best voyage ever. My goals currently include: losing 25+ pounds, working out everyday of the voyage, giving up meat and dairy while sailing, teaching a fitness class, planning several trips in port, reading all my books, reading all Augustin's class's books, auditing several courses, competing and nanowrimo and winning, learning Spanish, aggressively collecting for my scrapbook, keeping in touch with all my friends, buying souvenirs, saving my money, and finishing my current novel. Did I mention blogging everyday? Is there a padded room on this ship?!?
1) Keeping in touch. I bought a netbook, own an iphone, and despite knowing better, I realize that I have fully expected to be able to use them all the time while sailing. Even as I develop a program to encourage students to unplug themselves while on the voyage, I find myself shell-shocked and chagrined to be jonesing for a swift connection, Youtube, Skype, and pic uploads!
2) Allergies. One word: claritin. What was I thinking not to have procured a 112 day supply. I'm allergic to my bed, and I knew I would be -- I was when I sailed in January! Luckily, the next 2 ports are Halifax and Cadiz, places sophisticated enough to have universal healthcare and cheap, available medicine that can purchased on the cheap without prescriptions. Hell to the yeah.
3) Work. Oh yeah, I have a job to do. I knew this, I told other people this, and I am enjoying the hustle and bustle of meetings and brainstorms. It's easy to be an impressive whirlwind full of ideas and passion. But then there are the students, and the inevitable fears about how they will behave, etc... which is not to say that I won't fall instantly in love with them. Currently I am a smooth machine, spinning at full power, which makes them a bucket of monkey wrenches. Either way I'll be broken down, but will I ultimately recover to make a better, more efficient worker... or not?
4) The ship. It still rocks, both literally and figuratively. But will I still have the same blithe attitude after crossing the Atlantic, the Pacific? I signed up for 108 days of this madness!!!
5) I'm still an overachiever. I can't stop. I boarded the ship with one mission: to serve the students and make this the best voyage ever. My goals currently include: losing 25+ pounds, working out everyday of the voyage, giving up meat and dairy while sailing, teaching a fitness class, planning several trips in port, reading all my books, reading all Augustin's class's books, auditing several courses, competing and nanowrimo and winning, learning Spanish, aggressively collecting for my scrapbook, keeping in touch with all my friends, buying souvenirs, saving my money, and finishing my current novel. Did I mention blogging everyday? Is there a padded room on this ship?!?
Sunday, August 23, 2009
This is a test...
Hello world... This is a test of my mobile blogging skillz...
It's just after 7 am and I am on board a train leaving Union Station in DC. It's a morning of firsts (first time taking Amtrak, first time ordering a cab online, first step in a thousand mile journey) and a morning of lasts (last night at my place, last meal in dc, etc). Already meeting new people, not including the kook convention ghosting around the train station in the morning. A nice elderly grandmother shared a golf cart ride and a redcap with me. She smelled nice, like a hug bouquet. She recently had knee replacement surgery and is headed home to Portsmouth where she's only lived 2 yrs- she's a DC native born and bred of course. (It's amazing how much you can learn of any person in a short time.) What did she add to my journey? She said: "just trust in the Lord, and He will make a way for you". "Amen", I replied. It was a sign, and comfort. And also a reminder to call my Grammy.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Waving Goodbye
So long, cruel world... My bags are packed and I just can't believe it. I accepted the offer to sail with S@S in March, and yet somehow here I am confronting my plans with incredulity. It's only now becoming real that I am about to sail the globe again. I'm living the dream!
The summer in DC went quickly, like a movie montage, something that I would have sworn was impossible -- no one gets more annoyed than I thinking about those picture-perfect, musically scored, flurries across the screen -- but that's just the way it went. I was only arriving minutes ago it seems and now I'm waving goodbye to friends and family.
My to do list has stopped multiplying like a six-headed Hydra monster, and now that I've finished packing and cleaning there is an ominous silence in my head. It's the waiting. I'm only counting the hours until just before dawn when I'll begin lugging my entire life behind me on wheels, boarding a train, and chug-chugging away. Tick tock.
There are the inevitable questions: what will I find? Who will I meet? What stories will I have to tell? Those are familiar to me, as I've done this before. But then there are twice as many new ones: How will I do this job well? How can I best serve the students? What will it be like to sail on a new ship? How has the program changed in 9 years? No answers yet, only a building anticipation, a gathering of passion and energy to dive in and life out the answers. Life really is a wheel. There I was, Fall 2000, and here I am Fall 2009. And if you never stop waving goodbye.... you're waving hello again. Hello world!
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