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!