A Thanksgiving Day Reflection: Obrigado

Exactly seven months ago, I was walking with my several of my friends through the plazas in Salvador, Brazil. Seven months ago, a teenage boy named Rodrigo approached me and tied a white ribbon around my right wrist as he asked for money to buy some food. Startled that he had already finished knotting the ribbon tightly three times around my hand, I (in that true American way) robotically apologized, saying that I had nothing to offer him. The truth is, I could have easily walked with him around the corner and bought him a sandwich. I could have easily taken out some spare money that I, the well-off traveler, needed far less than he. But instead, I followed the custom and made my silent wish on my ribbon that Rodrigo would no longer be hungry.

Every day since that boy tied the ribbon to me, and every time that I have glanced at my wrist in passing, I think of Rodrigo. I think of how I should have responded differently, with more thought and respect, and how there is nothing I can do about it now except wait for my ribbon to fall off. (The superstition is that if you take the ribbon off yourself, your wish will not come true.)

Well, today, on Thanksgiving Day, I noticed that my white, tattered string was no longer on my body. I felt a sense of loss at first, as if with this one realization, all of my memories of Semester at Sea would disappear forever. But after the reality sank in, I understood that my time on the MV Explorer will always be in my heart, with or without physical reminders.

As the day went on, I found myself reflecting on how different my life has been since returning to the States, and yet how little my day to day activities have actually changed. I still spend every day going to class after class, coming home to study for hours, and then socializing about meaningless pop-culture references. And there, I feel unfulfilled. Why can’t every day be an adventure like it was last spring? Why don’t I go to sleep each night feeling like I have learned something about myself or the wider world? Why have I been once again sucked into the Y Generation culture of cell phones, facebook, texting, and immediately google-ing any question I might have? Why can’t I walk outside and have the world at my fingertips every single day?

I haven’t yet figured out a solution to all of these issues, but I did step back and think about just how thankful I am to have had the experience of a semester at sea. I am thankful for all of the beautiful people I have come into contact with over the past year, both American and foreign alike. I am thankful for my parents who are always there to hear me vent my frustrations and then comfort me. I will always be thankful for simple, sweet humanity and our innate need to help one another. And of course, I am thankful that supposedly, now Rodrigo is happy, successful, and will never be hungry again.

Coming Home

I know I never wrote about Brazil. I don’t think I will, either. It’s May 3rd and at this point, I will be home so soon that I can tell all of you (whoever you all are) directly about my wonderful time in Salvador and Boipeba. For now, I think I’d rather try to describe the strange sensation I feel when I think about being back in the United States so soon.

It’s eerie walking around the ship now that exams are over, and all that is left to do is pack up our cabins and exchange contact information with friends. I’m scrambling to copy photos from friends I traveled with over these last four months, and I’m realizing I don't really need to add to my collection of thousands of pictures. Today is supposed to be “Reflection and Re-entry Day,” but really it’s just another unstructured aspect to this long, ten-day good-bye.

One of the most fascinating aspects of Semester at Sea compared to any other study abroad program is that we spend half of our time on land, experiencing local culture, and the rest of our time taking classes on a ship. And this ship is kind of like a frozen-in-time version of America. We all speak English to each other, eat American food, dress (usually) like we would back home, and are still listening to the top 40 hits from January. (Has Lady Gaga come out with anything since Bad Romance? And are you all still singing “Tonight’s gonna be a good, good night”? ‘Cause we are.) In between immersing ourselves in cultures around the world, we revert back to our normal tendencies. So I want to know, how different will it really be to be back in the States?

I know I will come back to tons of questions and requests to see pictures, but I wonder how many photos or stories it will take for my friends and family to get bored or start rolling their eyes. And I wonder how frustrated I will get, knowing that telling people about my experiences just isn’t nearly the same as living though them in the moment. And I wonder how incredibly pretentious I will sound starting my sentences with “Well when I was trying to cross the street in Vietnam…” or “In India they wear the brightest colors…,” when really I’m just trying to add to conversations like anyone else. I’m going to miss how normal it is, here in my shipboard community, to say “I like that dress! Where’d you get it?” and be told nonchalantly, “Oh, Ghana.”

But mostly, I’m scared of reverting back to my old ways. I scared of being so caught up with the social gossip right in front of me, that there isn’t room on my plate to care about the problems in the rest of the world. Everyone has been saying that it won’t happen, but how can I be absolutely positive? And how can I, after forming relationships with people all over the globe, make sure that I will make a difference in their world. I want so badly to help in any little way possible, but I’m finding myself in the same difficult place that I was in January: there are so many issues to be resolved that I just don’t know where to start. What I do know now, though, is that it is possible to help. Helping people on a local level really does make the hugest of differences, even if it might not look or sound so impressive. If I have learned anything on this voyage around the world, it’s that "it’s all about the people." We all live in this world together. We make it the place it is, and we need to make it into the place we want and need for it to be.

The Center of The World

Considering in about an hour I will be docking in Salvador, I should probably recap at least something from Ghana before I get to Brazil! These 6 days at sea have really been packed with schoolwork and projects, and trying to soak up the most from our days, since I hate to say it, but we only have fifteen left.

On April 11 (forever ago, right?) we docked in Ghana. We all thought we would be in Accra, the capital city, but the main harbor is in the industrial sister city, Tema. So Semester at Sea arranged for a (shoddy) shuttle system to go back and forth on the hour. This was the first port city I have been to so far where I was more curious about what I would see than I was excited. I had watched The Lion King the night before, and of course I knew Accra wouldn’t look like that. But what would it look like?

Apparently, it looks like almost every other small-scale city I have been to so far! There were a few main streets connecting the major sites, along which street vendors crowded the sidewalks. The streets were dusty and the buildings in “downtown” didn’t rise above two stories. Cars and taxis weaved through the lanes, but much more tamely than I’ve seen in Shanghai or Chennai. I would say the only major difference between Accra and say, Ho Chi Minh City, was that 90% of the people in Accra we carrying things on their heads! I wasn’t surprised that people did it- I was more shocked by the sheer weight of the things they carried. You name it, they balanced it: bowls of fruit, baskets of flip-flops, trays of jewelry or snacks, chairs, groceries!

Even though I was only in Ghana for a short four days, I think I really maximized my time by seeing all of central Accra, the Castles and Slave Dungeons in Cape Coast, the OSU Children’s orphanage, and the Makola Market. I think my experience in the market was my most “real” day, spending time with local vendors rather than reading plaques on the sides of buildings. I found my way into the heart of the market, where tourists rarely venture into. Through 2 foot wide pathways, I weaved through the maze of stalls selling spoons, cd’s, and dresses, until I reached the fabric section. Stall after stall was covered with yards of brightly printed fabrics, and I couldn’t help but stop to look at the patterns. As soon as I paused for a moment there, a woman popped out of nowhere, from her resting place under the cool fabrics. After lots of back and forth, I agreed to buy 2 yards of fabric to have a skirt made. Behind me, a row of seamstresses sat at their sewing machines, deftly creating traditional skirt and top outfits. The women said to come back at 2:30 to pick up my finished garment.

I tried to find my way out of the market by a different route than I used coming in. Big mistake! I managed to get completely lost in the food section of the market, when all I wanted was to find my way out! In no real hurry, I passed stalls of spices, dried tilapia, live crabs, pigs’ feet, corn, and flour. It smelled… interesting. All the while, I had to constantly step aside so girls with 50 pounds of fruit or fish or soda on her head could squeeze by me in the tiny corridor.

Eventually, with a little (a lot) of help, I found a main street. Along every street in Accra, between the pavement and the sidewalk, runs an open sewer of varying depth. Concrete planks connect the two surfaces to avoid any, say, accidents. As I was walking down the street with my friend, we were approached by a man selling big African-print shirts. I decided to play the bargaining game (yay for getting one for $6 instead of $25!) and as I stepped forward to choose a shirt from his selection, FWOOM. My right leg had sunken 18 inches into the grimiest sewer I had seen the entire trip. The trash and muck kept me down like quicksand as the shirt-man and my traveling buddy tried to yank me out of the depths. I was too grossed out to cry, so of course, I laughed. As did the other 30 people on the street who got a week’s worth of amusement out of my fall! (Always happy to help.) Lucky for me, a woman selling sodas about 10 feet away came to my rescue with a bucket of water and she generously helped me wash my leg, foot, and shoe. She then gladly took a photo with me.

So that’s my sewer story. Don’t try this at home. I suppose that’s why the sewers in the US are generally actually underground. I found my way back to my seamstresses and chaatted while they finished my skirt. Foustina, the woman who sold me the fabric, and her 18 year old daughter, Priscilla, on holiday from school, were especially friendly and hospitable, as 2:30 turned into 3:30, into 4:30. When my skirt was finally finished I couldn’t have been more satisfied. It looks just like the ones they wear there! I will gladly model when I come home.

Now, onto Brasil!

Kaapstaad, South Africa, aka Cape Town

There is so much to say about my 5 days in Cape Town that I honestly do not know where to begin. I’ll start with some observations.

1)      For the first time in ten weeks, being white didn’t automatically give away my foreign-ness

2)      For the first time in two months I shopped in an honest-to-goodness supermarket

3)      The weather was sunny, breezy, and 70 degrees no matter what. (Breeze is an understatement… this was WIND)

4)      Xhosa has 3 different clicking sounds and I still haven’t a clue how to make a single one of them

5)      Table Mountain gives Cape Town the most incredible skyline I have ever seen. Google it!

 

During my all too short stay in South Africa, I was able to volunteer with Habitat for Humanity, attend the International Jazz Festival, spend a day tasting wine in wine country, see the Big 5 on a safari,  and not hike Table Mountain (due to THE WIND. Which also stalled our departure for oh, 21 hours? Hah.) Out of all of these incredible activities, I think the one most worth while blogging about is my day spent in the townships volunteering with Habitat for Humanity.

 

I worked with the organization once before, on a USY mission to New Orleans after my junior year in high school. What a different experience this was. As we drove out of the bright, clean, and colonial style downtown, the homes lining the highway got progressively more impoverished. The townships sprung up in the distance like I expect the dandelions are doing right now in your front yard. Shack homes made from nailed together scrap metal and wood balanced precariously on their soil foundations. These shacks weren’t just sporadically placed in the horizon- hundreds of thousands of sheds formed a sprawling suburbia like I’ve never seen before.

 

After about twenty minutes, we entered the township in which Habitat is currently building houses. We were pretty obvious in our big coach bus, taking up the entire width of the neighborhood roads. As we drove through, children in the streets stared at us through our tinted windows, and when I waved at them, the biggest smiles I have ever seen broke upon their faces. We soon reached to construction site, and were mobbed by the most adorable children… and when I say mobbed I mean they were grabbing our hands and feet, climbing on our backs, our waists. It was the most arduous fifteen paces I have ever walked!

 

We were shown the ropes by a few Habitat workers, given hard hats, and split up into groups- the inside, outside, and roof. We worked together to set up scaffolding, finish the roof, clean up rubble, mix concrete, and finish laying the cinderblocks to form the exterior of the house. Unfortunately, the construction site was severely under supplied. For the twenty of us there was one set of scaffolding, two hammers, four shovels, and no ladders or work gloves. We did the best we could to either be productive, or stay out of the way.

 

After about four hours, we took a lunch break and took a walk around the township. Hair salons, public phones, and general stores were set up in trailers along the street. Little kids yelled out a word at us, which we were later told meant “white,” while they followed us around. When we returned to our building site, the kids all started singing and dancing, and I joined them along with a few other students. They taught us their songs, and we sang things like “Ring around the Rosy” and “Hakuna Matata” which they happily sang and danced along to. One boy latched on to me for the rest of the afternoon, wearing my hard hat and playing clapping games with me as other little boys vied for my attention. At one point, 6 of them broke into dance, doing the best Michael Jackson impression I’ve ever seen. Most of the kids didn’t speak a word of English, but I was able to ask one eleven year old girl what she wanted to be when she grows up. She said to me, “Miley Cyrus.” It made me wonder… does Miley Cyrus know that when she sings “Party in the USA,” little kids in townships in South Africa want to be just like her? Because I still can’t even really wrap my head around that.

 

Around 4 o’clock, we cleaned up for the day, and were given the honor of personally dedicating the partially built house to its future owner. After seven years of moving up a waiting list, his house is finally in the making, and as a carpenter, he is making his own door. So there was no need to hand over the keys! Between the children, the workers, and this wonderful man whose house will soon become his home, my entire day was filled with unforgettable experiences, highlighted by bright smiles which I will treasure forever. 

Cabin 2014

What you are about to read is something I just wrote down in my journal about 10 minutes ago. It is pure emotion and I have no idea if it makes any sense, but if you were wondering what was going through my head at 0023 hours on April 8, 2010, read on.

I still need to write about my time in Cape Town, but in the mean time, it is the third day of shipboard life between South Africa and Ghana. Yesterday I had no class and felt like spending the day in my room. I had Kelli in there with me most of the day, but I really had no desire to go out and “be” with people. I had forgotten how easy it is to have privacy at Pitt or at home, but on the ship you are always running into someone to talk to. I usually love that, but I needed a day off. So I slept in, watched TV and movies, read a lot of my book, and only ventured out of my room for a 20 minute lunch and a hot dog at 10 pm. It was much needed down time.

Today was back to normal- I ate all 3 meals in the dining hall, went to my 3 classes, even studied for my quiz in public, and went to the film festival put on by the students in the evening. Which was mostly really good. I wish I could put my observations and thoughts and experiences into videos like those—I really wish I could present my ideas in that format. It’s such an effective way to say and literally show so much in only 3 minutes. But my mind just doesn’t work that way.

Right now, I’m really missing my friends from home and school. Everyone on the ship is so incredible, but I wish everyone I care about was here with me going through everything. Mostly because they all deserve it just as much as I do, but also because I know telling people about the things I’ve done and showing pictures will never do any of it justice. And that legitimately makes me sad.

Some of the things I’m feeling feel so profound that I can’t bear to feel them without my best friends of mother or sister feeling them right there beside me. I’m scared to go back home because I know in reality, there is no going back. I will go home but it won’t look like the same home I left in January: I won’t see it through the same lens. I know that isn’t a bad thing and that whatever has changed inside of me is for the better, but a part of me is sad that I never got to say a proper goodbye to that part of my life- the part of me that was so wrapped up in my own little microcosm. I never formally parted with the side of me which didn’t know or understand the other parts of the world.

I know that spending five days in a culture doesn’t allow me to understand it, but that’s all I’ve got and I’m doing the best that I can. I know that when I go home, people will ask me how I’ve changed and I don’t know what I can say to them. How do I tell people about random strangers welcoming me into the intimate details of their lives? Showing me where they eat and telling me where their families are? How do I convey the inescapable and overwhelming atmosphere of a foreign culture which is foreign only to me because I am the one who does not belong? How do I tell people about the warmth and sunshine which radiates from a child’s smile while he jumps and climbs on me with pure love and joy, even though we cannot pronounce each other’s names?

On days like these I cannot seem to wrap my head around the things I am going through or these so-called changes which are happening inside of me. I can’t understand how I can live and sleep and breathe on this ship as my friends and I complain about annoying people or the disorganized activities office, while we are being transported around the world and then dropped off in a country and told, “Go. See. Learn.” How do I do it??

I think I’m doing a good job so far, but is a “good job” good enough? There is still so much of this earth for me to explore and know and learn from and try my best to make an impact on, and I’m drowning in the inevitable reality that I just can’t do it all. I can’t understand how the world is changing me, and I can’t understand how I am to change the world. But I suppose with four weeks left and only two more countries to go, the best I can do is to try: try to soak up as much as I can, try to leave as much of a mark as I can, and try my hardest to keep my promises that I will come back- for longer next time- to stay and really get to know the people and their lives.

As I write, my eyes are tearing up, but they aren’t tears of sadness, I don’t think they are tears of overwhelming, I believe they are tears of happiness. I am so remarkably happy to be able to go around this planet of ours and step into other’s lives even for just a second, and with just that second, have all of humanity be confirmed to me. This world is FULL of people—all with stories and backgrounds and futures and problems and celebrations—and no matter how much we try to distance ourselves from one another, we are all in the Life together. I never want a single on of these people to leave my Life.

Maybe that is what I’m afraid of. I’m afraid of going home and simplifying my experiences down to one paragraph and diminishing people back down to the statistics they started out as. I’m afraid of these people ever leaving my life… because I know it is impossible to hold on to each one of them forever. And all I want to do is to hold on. Hold on tight and never, ever, let go. 

Passover at Sea

I knew when I applied to Semester at Sea Spring 2010 that if I was fortunate enough to attend the voyage, it would mean not only spending Passover away from home and family, but out of the country entirely, and most likely, the Passover Seder would occur on the ship. I have been so lucky to be on this voyage with so many wonderful and dedicated students, and I am thrilled that a good number of those students have decided to come together to form a Jewish student group. Ever since the first Friday at sea, we have been meeting regularly for Kabbalat Shabbat and eating a Shabbat meal together. It has been sporadic at times, especially when we were going through the Asian countries like they were candy! Nevertheless, we have formed a great community on the ship, and every week, anywhere between 20-35 students and faculty come together to celebrate the Sabbath together. We have spent time learning about Jewish communities (or lack thereof) in the cities we have visited so far, and I think we are in for a treat in Cape Town.

 

Anyway, ever since the voyage began, we have talked about the Passover Seder like it would be years away, and I can’t believe it has finally arrived. Weeks of planning and plenty of emails from worried parents later, we were able to pull it off! We had a sign up sheet before we arrived in Mauritius, and were ecstatic when we had to cap attendance at 120! We compiled a Haggadah from various sources, and put in food requests to the kitchen so we would have as close to a Seder meal as we could on limited resources. Last Friday, we decorated Matzah covers together and I felt like I was in 2^nd grade again, with a rainbow of Crayola markers smeared all over my fingers.

 

Tonight was the big event. People from all kinds of backgrounds came: there were the Friday Regulars, the students who came just to tell their parents they celebrated Passover like a good Jewish kid, and the students who were not Jewish, but were simply interested in attending a Seder. All things considered, I think it went pretty well! There were enough Matzah balls to go around, everyone got at least 4 cups of grape juice (think melted freeze pop), and we had two adorable kids sing the four questions. And the afikomen- oh boy- just picture 30+ twenty-somethings (and a couple of real children) searching on their hands and knees around the Deck 5 Dining Room for 20 minutes looking for a big cracker wrapped in a napkin. And the prize? 30 South African Rand… roughly four bucks. Not bad!

 

Before I knew it, the Seder was over (it was the short version) and we all left with our bellies full and ready to watch the Crew Talent Show (I’ve been looking forward to this the whole voyage)!  Who would have thought that a year ago I should have been saying “Next Year in Cape Town”?

 

Chag Pesach Sameach!

 

A Heightened Sense of Adventure

I haven’t spent too much lately on self-reflection and introspection, but I can definitively say that traveling the world has had its effects on me. As I enter the second half of my voyage, I will continue trying to pin down the ways I have changed since January, and how those changes will affect the way I live in the future. One difference is easy for me to figure out. Since coming on Semester at Sea, my attraction to spontaneity and my sense of adventure have grown tremendously. I’m not about to jump out of an airplane or anything, but I’m no longer as high strung about getting to a destination on time and making sure all goes as planned. I really have embraced the idea that it is not the destination that matters, but rather the journey. This motto has applied not only to this voyage as a whole, but really to the way I live each day in port.

 

I had two goals in Mauritius: to go hiking in the volcanic mountains and to snorkel in the Indian Ocean. By the time my short two day stay was over, I had accomplished both of these things and so much more. When we arrived on Tuesday morning, the sun peeked out from the rain clouds, just itching to create a beautiful rainbow in the sky. My friend Erin and I set out with many friends in search of a good hiking route. We had planned to hit several stops and eventually hike through the Black River Gorges National Park. Things didn’t entirely go according to plan! We spent a good 2 hours navigating to public bus system and being driven around by a local man for a while. He told us we should go to what sounded to me like “Catabowl” but considering it was French, who knows what it was actually called! We hopped on a bus to this town, unsure of what to expect. At first, we saw no signs of a good hiking spot, since we were dropped off in the center of the town. Markets and bakeries lined the streets and school children were standing at bus stops waiting to go home. We had spent most of the day already exploring the island by car, and we just wanted to get out and hike! From the street, the mountains in the distance were breathtaking. The lush green trees covered the mountain ranges like a carpet and their jagged tops cut through the mist and tropical rain clouds to reach through to the heavens. I wanted so badly to be on top of one of those fantasy-land cliffs!

 

Since we were in the middle of a town filled with concrete sidewalks and pavement, I knew that goal was unlikely. Still, Erin and I decided to take a side street off the main road and try our best. We followed our instincts and walked as far uphill as we could, through several wealthy neighborhoods and tall sugar cane fields. Soon enough, a mountain was in sight. I didn’t think we would reach the base of it, but sure enough, after walking through what looked like a soccer field, we caught sight of a trail. It was still muddy from the afternoon rains, but we didn’t mind. We followed the red-brown path up and around, passing several locals who were already on their way down from their afternoon exercise. As we climbed higher and higher, even more of the impressive landscape came into view. We stopped every now and then to take in the scenery before setting off once again towards the peak. The sun was sinking low in the sky, and we had about an hour before sundown. The golden glow of the sun’s rays skimmed the leaves of grass and fanned out wide over the fields below. Suddenly, the call to prayer emanated like a siren from the mosques in the distance, floating up through the air and lingering in our ears. Even though the majority of the island’s inhabitants are Hindu and of Indian descent, they all embrace each other with a love and friendship I have seen nowhere else in my life.

 

We trekked onward, determined to reach the top as soon as we could. Lots of mud and several mosquito bites later, we found the clearing where the trail ended. It was blanketed with tall grasses and some wildflowers, and through the trees, we could see the whole island before us. Soon after we arrived, the same group of locals we had seen going the other direction showed up. One man, Sanjay, spoke to us shortly before descending again. Speaking with him again reminded us of the power of friendliness, as he wanted nothing more but to help us with directions and recommend his favorite sites so we could make the most of our time in Mauritius.

 

After a fulfilling day of exploration, Erin and I hopped on a bus bound for Port Louis. An hour and a half later, we were driving along the familiar waterfront, witnessing Mauritius’ version of Tuesday Nightlife. It was quiet and balmy, and the dark waters looked just as beautiful under the stars as they did in the daylight. After a great day, I had made it home happier than ever, relishing in the idea that Port Louis could be my home for the day, and that for the last 10 weeks, wandering the unexpected corners of the world has been my reality.

 

 

A Paradise Island Called Mauritius

Mark Twain once wrote that God created Mauritius first, and then Heaven, and that Heaven was based off of Mauritius. After spending just two short days on this oasis in the middle of the Indian Ocean, I can see what he meant.  

 

To start the day off, a group of friends and I had taken a public bus to the town of Curepipe, in the center of the island, near Trou-aux-Cerfs, the volcanic crater. When we got off the bus at our stop an hour outside of Port Louis, it was drizzling again and we sought shelter inside a bakery. It happened to be lunch time, so we treated ourselves to some local desserts. Food is culture, right? Anyway, on our way out of the shop, Zach and Miche had stopped behind to talk to a local. When he walked up to introduce himself to the rest of us, we learned he was a retired physics professor who had taught at universities all over the world. When we asked him where his home was, he presented us with a photo of our planet, taken from outer space (aww). This man, Mr. Mungur, told us all about his home in Mauritius, which was just a few kilometers from the crater we were trying to find. He said if there were fewer of us, he would drive us around. Not wanting to pass up the opportunity, the 7 of us graciously offered to squish into his little hatchback. (“Three of you will have to sit in the boot!” he said.) I swear, we must have looked like a bunch of clowns at a circus getting in and out of that car! He drove us up to Trou-aux-Cerfs, where we had the most incredible view into the now forested crater. It was considerably smaller than the caldera at Kilauea, and was perfectly circular. I couldn't believe that this little hole at the top of a mountain had spewed out enough lava to form the entire island- 11 times as big as DC- just 8 million years ago! From the crater's rim, we could see the stunning landscape 360 degrees around, and as the mist and clouds lifted, the mountains in the distance became even more impressive.

 

While we were taking pictures, I met another local man named Popi, who beautifully expressed how welcoming Mauritians are to travelers. They see everyone as a brother or sister, and invited foreigners in with open arms. This was obvious to me, as every person we passed smiled right at us. Mr. Mungur said it delightfully, that the people of Mauritius are as diverse as a rainbow, with a colorful blend of histories, cultures, and religions. People come from India, Madagascar, France, and England to name a few, and most locals speak at least 3 languages. The religions of Hinduism, Catholicism, and Islam pervade the population, and every person treats each other with a respect I haven't seen anywhere else in my travels so far. Mauritius was like a unique blend of India, Hawaii, and France, in a way I never could have imagined.

 

From Trou-aux-Cerfs, Mr. Mungur drove us to his home, which he was in the process of renovating. He showed us some family photographs, and brought us to the roof balcony where he and his wife eat breakfast each morning, looking out into the gardens below. His friendliness and silly sense of humor reminded me of my father, and made me think of just how much I miss home. Homesickness on this trip is a strange blend of missing the familiar, yet never wanting to return to that same familiarity which makes life back home so ordinary. Hard to explain, and I'm planning to put off thinking about returning home until I absolutely have to!

 

After endlessly thanking Mr. Mungur for completely putting a halt to his day to show us around, we were driven back to the Curepipe bus stop. Only then did he reveal to us that before retiring, he worked for NASA. We had found ourselves a real, live rocket scientist to show us around his home! Truly, it doesn’t get much better than this.

 

 

The Peaceful Backwaters of Kerala

After 14 hours on a train across Southern India, we arrived in the West coast state of Kerala, which appropriately means “land of coconuts”. As I watched the greenery whiz by the open train car door, brightly painted homes and tall palm trees dotted the sides of the railroad. It couldn't look more different from Chennai. In fact, I could have sworn I was back in Vietnam!

When Kristina, Nick, Jenn, and I arrived in the Allapuzzah Train Station, we took a rickshaw towards the Greenpalms Homestay where we had reserved a room for the night. The roads could only take us so far though, as the home was across a river. We loaded into a canoe and helped paddle ourselves to the other side. If the water was a slighter darker shade of brown, I would have been convinced I was in the Mekong Delta again. Luckily, it was not nearly as hot and humid in Kerala. After 3 days in India, I had already grown accustomed to the sweat and dirt, and simply accepted it as a fact of life.

When we arrived at the river bank, we were welcomed into the homes of Thomas, Matthew, and Maria. We were among many other travelers from all over the world- Switzerland, Canada, and Germany, to name a few. Kerala has a very large Christian population, as compared to the Hindu majority in the rest of the country, and outside, we could hear several church services being conducted down the street in the local language, Malayam.

The village was quaint and peaceful, and as we took an exploratory walk along the river, we saw women washing their clothes and men bathing in the water. We followed the iron-orange dirt path through the trees and over bridges, passing smiling children who were running through the saris left to dry on the clotheslines in the sun. This place exuded friendship and community, and Thomas took the time to explain so many aspects of village life and history, from the expansive rice fields to the efficient water irrigation system.

That evening, all of the guests at the homestay were invited on a boat ride through the village. The cool dusk breeze was refreshing as the abrasive sun finally sank below the horizon. As we moved quietly through the waters, Thomas and the locals who were paddling the boat began singing a beautiful traditional folk song that originated in the fields of Kerala before slavery was abolished. When they finished, they asked us to sing folk songs from our respective countries. No one volunteered at first, but after a few minutes of tension, we all broke out into “Don't Stop Believin'!” Not quite a folk song, but it did the trick. It was dark by the time we returned to their home, and we all relaxed for a while before eating the best home cooked meal I have tasted on this trip so far. Even better, in the morning, the mother of the house opened up her kitchen to and gave us all a cooking lesson! I think it's only fair for me to post the recipes for you all. Don't follow the measurements too closely- I was approximating by watching her. I could be pretty off, so use your best judgment!

“Merhukku”

Coconut oil

3 cups Chinese potatoes, sliced 1 cm thick

3 cups coconut, cut into 1 inch pieces

3 stems of curry leaves

1 tbsp turmeric

1 tbsp salt

½ cup red onion, sliced

¼ cup green chili

Pepper to taste

1. In a wok, heat coconut oil

2. Add curry leaves, turmeric, and salt. Stir.

3. Add red onion, green chili, and coconut. Stir 1 minute

4. Add Chinese potato. Stir

5. Cover and simmer 15 minutes, stirring every few minutes

6. Add pepper and stir.

7. Serve over rice

“Thoran”

 

2 tbsp coconut oil

3 cups grated coconut

½ tsp mustard seeds

1/3 cup shallots

1 stem curry leaves

1/3 cup red onion, sliced

¼ cup green chili

2 cups green onions

½ tsp turmeric

1 tbsp salt

1. Heat coconut oil in wok

2. Add mustard seeds and let them pop

3. Add shallots and curry leaves, and stir when shallots have turned golden brown

4. Add green chili and red onions. Stir 1 minute.

5. Add green onions, stir and cover 15 minutes.

6. Add turmeric, salt, and coconut.

7. Serve over rice.

“Fish fry”

 

Medium sized tuna (2 lbs?)

2 tbsp Chili powder

2 tbsp garam masala

1 tbsp turmeric

salt

pepper

1 tbsp garlic and ginger paste

1 cup water

Coconut oil

1 stem curry leaves

1. Mix all spices together and add water to make a paste

2. Cut fish into 2 inch diameter chunks. Wash.

3. Cover fish pieces with pates and marinate for 30 minutes

4. Fry fish in pan of oil with curry leaves.

“Sambar” (vegetable curry)

Can substitute this with pretty much any vegetables you want!

Lentils

Dahl

onion

green chili

papaya

cucumber

tomato

drumstick (looks kind of like an english cucumber)

coriander powder

chili powder

turmeric

coconut

okra

potato

1 tsp asafoetida powder

pinch of fenugreek powder

Add all together, cook over medium heat for ½ hour.

“Papadam”

These are thin pancakes made from kidney beans, and they come packaged like small tortillas.

1. Heat 1 cup coconut oil in small pot.
2. Add one papadam, let fill with air for 45 seconds
3. Use a flat slotted spoon to strain it from the oil before removing.
4. Place in sealed container to cool before serving.

Enjoy! Note: You must eat all of this with your (right) hands or it won't taste nearly as good. I promise.

Chennai, India... A Bustling City of Color

I heard a saying while I was in India which goes, “In America they drive on the right, in Britain they drive on the left, and in India they drive on the sidewalk.” This could not be more true! Ok, so maybe they don't drive on the sidewalks per se, but the sidewalks are so rarely used by pedestrians that the streets become one huge walkway. Driving on literally the wrong side of the road is the norm, as long as you honk to alert others of your presence. I will admit that I couldn't have been happier to spend my stay in Chennai with the Rao family, being driven around by their family driver in the safety of their car!

 

After many email exchanges prior to my arrival in India, I was able to connect with Venkat and Padma Rao, the siblings of my mother's co-worker back in Maryland. I had spent the first afternoon on a trip with Semester at Sea to Mammallapuram, a complex of ancient stone temples built along the shore. Upon arrival back at the ship, I was instructed to call the Raos' driver, who would be waiting for me outside the port gates. I don't want to scare you all, but this port area was shady to say the least. It was about a mile's walk from the ship to the outer gates,  through the dirt roads congested with loading trucks and speeding motorcycles. By the time I was to meet the driver, it was already dark and I was walking alone. I expected to see him right at the first gate, but he was nowhere to be found. I kept going along the street, being verbally harassed by the mobs of rickshaw drivers who were trying to get me into their vehicles. One actually tried telling me that my driver had left to take another job! Eventually, I realized I would be wandering in the dark for a long while if I didn't try calling this man. I asked an auto driver for his cell phone and as soon as he took it out of his pocket, a huge gathering of 30  rickshaw drivers crowded around me to see what I was doing. I decided it was best to take a rickshaw to where the driver was waiting, and ended up paying way too much for a 2 minute ride. I didn't care though- I was happy to find the car! It was a 30 minute drive to Venkat's house in the city, and I was so relieved when I arrived.

 

The whole family was so gracious in welcoming me into their beautiful home. I met family member after family member and must admit that I can barely remember all of their names! Still, it was so nice to be around a big family again after not seeing mine for two months. We talked for a long time over snacks about my study abroad program and my experiences so far, and then about their lives in India, both growing up and also raising their kids. I found it so intriguing how our two societies have so many similarities, yet the fundamental backgrounds of each culture are so contrasting. It was clear that life in the cities is much more comparable to that of the US, while the rural areas are more reminiscent of the 5000 years of Indian tradition. Around 10 o'clock, we went down to the dining room for dinner, which I had worried they had eaten without me since I didn't arrive until 8! It was absolutely delicious, and the first of many fantastic Indian meals. I love eating with my fingers, especially after a month of fumbling with chopsticks. The curries and masalas were fantastic, and I must send out a thank you to Danielle and Dibya, my roommates last semester, for preparing me for spicy cuisine!

 

I had a lovely night's sleep in their guest room, and awoke refreshed in the morning. When I left my room, I found Venkat's mother awake in her room, sipping her tea while watching a soap opera. I asked if I could sit with her and she graciously obliged. She spoke very little English, and I'm sad to say I failed to learn any Tamil while I was in Chennai, but we were able to communicate with each other despite the language  barrier. Above the television in her bedroom was a wall full of family photographs. She pointed to pictures of her own parents, as well as all of her children and grandchildren. At that moment in time, it really hit me how there are families all over this world, just like mine, who pose for photos together to remember each other when they are not together. I couldn't help but think of my own family photo that hangs on the wall of my cabin and the old Polaroids of my own grandparents and aunts and uncles that were taken when they were young.

 

For the rest of the day I was shown around the city by Padma and her husband. I was able to get in touch with Kristina and Nick and they happily joined us. We went to Mylapore temple and Venkat's restaurant, Palimar, where we were completely mystified by how tasty the cauliflower was! India has made us all into believers of cauliflower (I thought it couldn't be done)!

 

It was just a fabulous day and I am so thankful to the entire family for welcoming me into their home and dedicating their entire day to myself and my friends. It made my experience in Chennai truly unforgettable. Around 5 pm we were dropped off at the ship to pack our bags for our train to Alleppey. Unfortunately, I have no exciting train story for you this time. We all got seats on the train (we had been on the waitlist for some days) and though there were a few cockroaches, it was nothing I couldn't handle. Best of all, we were well prepared with snacks this time!

 

The other side of the world in Vietnam (12 hours ahead of the East Coast!)

This was supposed to be posted on March 10th, but it didn't go through. Please bear with me!

 

A new entry here is long overdue. I feel bad for taking so long to finally write, but I had no idea just how exhausting country hopping while taking midterms (and a final exam) would be. Now that I am finally catching up with everything, it is already time to arrive in India! We dock in Chennai tomorrow morning, and I don't think I'm nearly as prepared as I should be. I guess that's part of the beauty of this trip though: just as I'm coming up for air from one country I'm thrown into the next without a second thought. I don't really have a choice- whether or not I am ready for South Asia tomorrow, it will be right there waiting for me in the morning. Not only have I been using these last five or so days to soak in Vietnam, but I've needed it to absorb Japan and China, too. Two days in between countries was almost like a sick joke Semester at Sea plays on its students, tempting us with the concept of rest, but instead, dropping us off at yet another foreign country!

So here I am, about to reflect on Vietnam. It was incredible. It was hot and muggy and the streets were swarming with motorbikes, but it was absolutely stunning. It was the first country we've been to so far that is really in the upward swing of development. I know Shanghai has grown exponentially in the last 20 years, but I have only seen the skyscraper version. Ho Chi Minh City (or Saigon, as the locals still insist on calling it) has no real defined skyline, and at night, the sky is dark above the 14th story. They are still in the motorcycle stage of development, and taxi companies are just starting to have a presence. Every cyclist is required by law to wear a helmet, unless he is a passenger under the age of 10. The women ride their motorcycles completely covered from head to toe, but not out of modesty. They wear zip up jackets, long pants, stockings under their sandals, hats under their helmets, sunglasses, and a large cloth that covers from their nose down to their neck, all to keep the sun from darkening their skin. Meanwhile, I was sweating in my tank top and shorts!

My trip to the Mekong Delta was quite possibly my favorite part of my time in Vietnam. It was an overnight trip organized through Semester at Sea, and the only one I signed up for. (Many people go for days with SAS to the Great Wall in China, the Taj Mahal in India, or spent 3 out of our 5 days in Vietnam on a trip to Cambodia.) There were about 40 of us, mostly students, but about 8 or 9 were either faculty, staff, or their children. We woke up bright and early to bus down to the delta. I slept most of the ride, but when we got to our destination, I was in awe. We all piled in to a riverboat led by our guide, and around me were seemingly endless trees lining the Mekong river. The river itself is brown and shallow, yet its the source of life for the majority of Vietnam's population. They bathe in it, drink it, wash their clothes in it, and live on it, as they travel the delta's waterways on their small boats to the floating markets. Each boat, though identical to the rest at first glance, was uniquely personified. Following an ancient tradition to ward of river spirits, on the stern of each boat is painted a colorful set of eyes. And from a pole rising from each boat, hangs whatever item is being sold, from pineapples to onions. We rode through the floating markets for some time, observing the lively activity and being offered soft drinks from children who rowed up next to our boat. The whole time, I kept checking myself... I could not believe that I was in Vietnam, riding on a boat down the Mekong River!

We stopped off in a village that was bustling with activity. Along the dirt roads there were no real houses or buildings, only large, open air structures with tin roofs. Under one, a man was boiling a vat of salt in order to purify it. In the next area, several people were working together to make coconut toffee. Starting from a ripe coconut, they showed us the process of melting it and mixing ingredients, and then stretching and cutting the candy to be hand wrapped and packaged. The business behind them was making rice paper, I had no idea just how versatile rice was, but I shouldn't have been surprised, considering Vietnam is the second largest producer of rice in the world! The rice paper was made into several forms: round like a tortilla to make spring rolls, small irregular shaped pieces of hardened crackers (tasted a just like corn flakes) and long sheets of paper used to wrap and preserve candy. Across the way, people were making puffed rice, like rice crispies. They popped the rice like it was popcorn, and then sifted out the dirt and unpopped rice. The finished product was then mixed with caramel in large sheets and cut into pieces and packaged. It was so interesting to go from one section to the next and see all of these people working so efficiently to make these products.

I don't think my trip to the Delta would have been complete without trying all of the delicious fruits that were growing everywhere. Not only did they have tiny bananas and coconuts to drink right out of, but they had lychee, mango, papaya, guava, dragon fruit, and jackfruit. By my third day in Vietnam, I was all fruit-ed out!

Even though I had a blast in Vietnam, I don't think it had the same kind of impression that the rest of the ports have had on me. Which is the opposite of what most people I've talked to have said. Maybe the level of development there felt more in the way, rather than feeling like an enhancer of my experience, or maybe I've never had a strong connection to the Vietnam War, and other people were affected more because we were visiting a place where American troops fought so recently. That said, after walking on the same soil where our own soldiers fought not so long ago, and after going to the War Remnants Museum and the Cu Chi Tunnels, I have a much greater interest in what it is that the soldiers my age are doing in Iraq and Afghanistan.

I can't believe it has already been a week since I left Vietnam. For that matter, I can't believe Hawaii was 6 weeks ago! The time is flying by, and I'm doing my best to follow Don Gogniat's (our Global Studies professor) travel tips:

1) It's all about the people

2) Keep your feet on the ground

3) The more you know, the more interesting the trip will be

4) Never let your age get larger than the number of countries you go to (that will be a toughie...)

5) Stop and smell the roses

6) Find a park bench and let the world pass you by

7) Try to appreciate why someone is smiling with you at any moment

And with that, I say- India, here I come!

In Transit, China

After spending four full days in Shanghai, the three girls and I took it easy the last day. We went to People’s Square again, this time with our new friend, Edward, a 23 year old from New York looking to start a business in China. I was surprised how refreshing it was to be around an American who was not a “SASer”. Even though in port I’ve had many interactions with locals, their extent is really limited by how much I manage to communicate without knowing the language. It was nice to see a new face and actually be able to explain the concept of Semester at Sea and my experiences so far.

 

After spending some time in an underground mall (that is actually a converted bomb shelter!) we decided it was about time to head over to the train station to head over to Hong Kong. But to our surprise, somehow Noel was missing. She had been with us just 5 minutes before, and it was out of character for her to just wander off without telling one of us. We took turns searching the mall, while one of us stayed at the store we last saw her at, hoping she would turn up. After frantically searching for 20, then 40, then 60 minutes, we had exhausted all of our options. We tried asking the security guard to use the intercom to page her, but with the language barrier, it took at least fifteen minutes to explain ourselves, and eventually we learned that since we didn’t speak Chinese, we couldn’t page her. We had 45 minutes until our train was scheduled to leave, and we realized we had no other choice but to go to the station and hope that she found her way there. We caught a cab and sat in Shanghai traffic—it was just our luck that our first experience with highway congestion was when we were late for our 18 hour train! When we got dropped off, we ran through the terminal Home Alone-style, found our platform, and frantically showed our ticket to the station workers. They yelled in Chinese and pointed forcefully in the opposite direction towards the exit! Panicking, we spotted a Chinese woman motioning us to follow her. We compared tickets to check that we were both going to Hong Kong, and she led us to the customs line, since traveling to Hong Kong is considered crossing a border out of mainland China. We threw our bags into the x-ray conveyor belts, and ran to the desk to have our passports stamped. I looked at my watch and we had 6 minutes before the train was scheduled to depart! We cleared customs and were directed out to the platform where the train was waiting for us. We ran with all of our bags to Car #8, almost completely relieved, still praying that Noel would be sitting in our cabin. We opened the door to beds 15-16-17-18 and lo and behold, Noel was sitting on the bottom bunk eating a snack. (Cue exhale.)

 

If there was one moment on this trip that felt like The Amazing Race, this was it. And the best part- it was a non-elimination round! Even though we had one package of cookies to last the 4 of us the entire train ride, we made the best of it by making our own subtitles to the bizarre religious movie on our personal TV, journaling, and best of all, sleeping for 10 hours. When I woke up at 8 in the morning, I looked out the window and saw the most beautiful countryside. Mountain ranges fanned out around the train tracks, dotted with houses and colored with carefully cultivated farmland. Hardworking farmers tended to their crops, even on this Sunday morning. The greenery raced past our window, and before we knew it, we were seeing signs for Hong Kong. After a long and exhausting journey, we made our way back to the ship. I never expected the feeling of coming home after a long day to rush through me like I did when the MV Explorer came into view. I had found the water again, and I was home.

 

Tonight I looked out into the dark waters after dinner, and realized how calming the black of the night is. Out in the distance, the black waves blend into the dark night sky, lit solely by the constellations. The engine murmured behind me and the misty salt of the seas sprayed gently on my face. It’s been five weeks, and the ocean already feels like where I belong... the world is my playground and, honestly, I couldn’t be happier.

Welcome to the Middle Kingdom, The People's Republic of China!

I just have to say, is this real life?! You all have no idea how many times I’ve had to do a reality check in the last week. I got back on the ship from China yesterday, and in two days I’ll be in Viet Nam. Two days is not enough time for me to process the last 8 days, and I still haven’t fully processed Japan! Shanghai shocked me. After spending time in Japan, I thought Shanghai, China’s largest city, would look a lot like Tokyo. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The buildings were just as tall, but the streets were dusty and empty for the New Year. Every skyscraper looked completely unlike the last one, with the most varied architecture I’ve every seen in one place. The Bund was filled with bulky British colonial buildings, and across the Huangpu River, the oddly shaped towers created Pudong, which was built up just 20 years ago. A grey haze hung over the skyline every morning as the city slowly woke up. I’m glad I spent a full five days there (most people stayed only two, and then flew to Beijing), because I was able to really get a feel for the city. The first day I was alarmed by almost everything- the unrecognizable food, the crazy driving (pedestrians don’t have the right of way), the pollution, the spitting and coughing, and the prevalence of Mao Zedong 30 years after his death. I did many things, like visit Fudan University’s Center for American Studies, which my Sino-US Relations professor directs, and the Shanghai Museum and the Urban Planning Museum in People’s Square where I learned all about the history of Chinese art and Shanghai’s future as a developing city. Over all, though, my favorite days involved going to Hongkou and Zhouzhuang.

 

My third day in Shanghai, Kristina and I walked to Hongkou, about 20 minutes northwest of where our ship was docked. This neighborhood was where many Jews settled in Shanghai when they were escaping Nazi Germany. When the Sino-Japanese war broke out though, the Jews were confined to a ghetto, called the Restricted Sector for Stateless Refugees. We found Ohel Moishe Synagogue, which is at this point, the only evidence that there was ever a Jewish population there. Now, the tenement-lined streets are filled with lower class Chinese families setting off a constant stream of firecrackers celebrating the New Year. Unfortunately, the Synagogue and museum were closed for the holiday, but we were handed a brochure and created our own walking tour. We saw the distribution center where families were sent to be placed, and the park where Jews would meet on the weekends. There was a monument in the center of the park with a description of the area written in English, Chinese, and Hebrew, but aside from that, it looked like any other park in the morning. The space was filled with women practicing tai chi and children playing ball. Once called Little Vienna, now the neighborhood has transformed to look like any other residential area. Everyone has been talking about how dynamic and rapidly changing Shanghai is, but it felt most evident to me as I walked around this once Jewish neighborhood, now completely devoid of any Jewish culture.

 

I really loved walking around town with just Kristina. It’s always fun to have lots of people around, but I think everyone has discovered that a pair is the easiest, 3 is the safest, and 4 is the best way to split a cab. It was great only having to consult one person about what we should do next or where we should eat. We went over to Doulun Cultural Street, where there were lots of interesting storefronts, including calligraphy stores, Christian bookshops, an antique store filled with old communist paraphernalia, and a tea house with a statue of Charlie Chaplin in front. The street was also home to the old meeting house of the League of Left Wing Writers, which has been converted into a museum. Unfortunately, all of the displays were in Chinese, so we weren’t entirely sure what we were seeing. We turned down a side street and it was like walking through a black hole. All of a sudden, we were completely out of place. There were women frying dough in the street, locals browsing tables of boxed fruit, and dried fish hanging everywhere. You should all be proud that I kept it cool as fish heads were being chopped off right before my eyes!

 

I wanted to keep these posts short, but I’m clearly failing miserably. So I’ll just write about Zhouzhuang. On the third night, the ship left for Hong Kong, and myself and 3 other girls stayed in a youth hostel. In the morning, we set out to find the sightseeing bus company that ran buses back and forth from the canal towns of Suzhou and Zhujiajiao. Once we got to the station, the woman at the ticket office said there were no trips to either of those places that day. When we asked where they were going, she replied with “Zhouzhuang.” Completely mystified, we quickly decided to just go for it. So we hopped on the bus to a place that we could not even find in our travel guide, ready for a day of adventure. It turns out that Zhouzhuang is the oldest water village in the Shanghai area. It was about an hour long drive outside of the city, and is a tourist destination mostly for the Chinese. So as if we didn’t stand out already as 4 white girls, we clearly didn’t belong there! That said, it was the most incredible place. It felt like “real China” completely unlike the concrete jungle of Shanghai. The town was a complex network of alleyways and bridges, interspersed with old residences and souvenir stands. We walked slowly through the packed sidewalks, taking it all in. Eventually, we got to Quanfu Temple, an old Buddhist religious site. It was one of three Buddhist temples that I was able to see in China (including the Jade Buddha Temple in Shanghai, and the Temple of 10,000 Buddhas in the New Territories of Hong Kong) and it was beautifully ornate. I walked through courtyard after courtyard of sanctuaries filled with incense, and across bridges stretching over coy ponds. Though every aspect of the temples was gorgeous, I didn’t feel the same type of connection that I felt with the Shinto shrines in Japan. I’m interested to see how I feel in the Buddhist temples in India, which I expect will have a very different atmosphere.

 

So right now, I’m trying my best to get over the cold I caught (colds spread around this ship FAST), and reading up on Vietnam as fast as I can. For some reason, Vietnam wasn’t one of the countries I was really excited to see, but now that Southeast Asia is all I need to focus on, I really can’t wait to experience the culture. I’ll be spending two days on the Mekong Delta, and I’ll see the Cu Chi Tunnels and Cao Dai Temple, but other than that, I have no idea what I’ll do! Most people are actually going on a Semester at Sea trip to Cambodia to see Phnom Penh and Angkor Wat. Oh man, I can’t believe I didn’t even write anything about Hong Kong here. Hopefully I’ll get the chance to put up another post tomorrow before we get to Ho Chi Minh City!

All over Japan!

I'm sitting here now in the ship's computer lab with 10 minutes to spare before the China Diplomatic Briefing. I'm writing about Japan, but out the window I see the beautiful skyline of Shanghai. I'll get to that city once I get off the ship!

We arrived in Japan on Tuesday the 9th at the Port of Yokohama. Yokohama is essentially the main port access to Tokyo, so once clearing the ship at around noon, we made our way to Tokyo! The very first thing I noticed stepping foot in Japan was how immaculate the streets were. For being one of the largest cities in the world, it was absolutely silent. People talked practically in whispers under their breath, cars' slight humming noise was barely audible compared to the loud honking and traffic of New York City. And to top it all off, there are essentially no trash cans on the sidewalks. Occasionally I would see a recycling bin, but because it's considered rude to eat and walk, if you leave the place where you bought your food, you're out of luck in finding a way to dispose of your trash! I was shocked that the lack of trashcans had a positive effect on the cleanliness of the city rather than a negative one!

Anyway, we walked (quietly) to the train station and boarded the subway for Shibuya, the "young, hip" district, if you will. As one would expect, every train car was silent and clean, and surprisingly, even in the large Shibuya station, though it was filled with people, everyone moved with disciplined order, completely lacking the chaos and noise I would expect from Tokyo. We walked through the city to find the Meiji Shrine. Since I can't upload pictures, I would suggest google-ing it because it was beautiful.

In the middle of this huge metropolis was a forest, akin to Central Park in New York. The pathway into the park was framed by a giant Cyprus torii, the "pi" shaped structure indicating the entrance into a Shinto shrine. The gravel pathways winding inside the forest were very quiet, and completely unlike a park in the states where you would see couples picnicking and boys throwing Frisbees. Everyone walked in quiet reflection, taking in the nature and preparing themselves for the spiritual encounter with the shrine. Once we passed through several more toriis, we were at the outer courtyard of the shrine. Huge wooden buildings stood before us, simple, yet intricate at the same time. They were all painted white with dark brown thatching, blending perfectly with the natural scenery around us. We stepped through the gate into the main courtyard, and we had to literally step over the raised threshold so we were completely aware of our entrance into the sacred place.

When we were through, we were surrounded on all sides but long continuous wooden buildings, culminating in the main sanctuary straight ahead. Curious, I walked up the stairs to the sanctuary and witness something I didn't expect. True, I know very little about Shintoism, so I don't know what their prayer rituals were. Individuals walked up to a kind of basin, threw in a coin or two, and stepped back. They would then bow twice, and then clap twice and begin their personal prayers. When they were finished, they would bow once more and walk away to make room for others. My friend Amy and I decided to try it, and even though I am not Shinto, I think I found a religious connection in my own way. Looking straight ahead I saw the section of the shrine that was off limits, where the kami, or sprits, dwell. Looking up and around I saw the tops of trees, with no skyscrapers in sight. When I clapped I felt more alert to these surroundings and much more able to reflect on my life, my time on semester at sea so far, and of course, the fact that I was halfway around the world in Japan. When we finished, we stepped just outside of the main courtyard where a stand was selling good luck charms. They ranged from good luck in love to safe travels to passing an entrance exam. We saw the same charms in every other shrine we visited as well.

I have to go, so I'll finish this quickly. As you can tell, I'm not going to get to the other 4 days just from this one entry, but maybe after Vietnam I'll be able to sum up all the highlights. My second day I saw Mt. Fuji which was spectacular despite the clouds. The third day was spent essentially in the electronics district of Tokyo. Our fourth day was in Kyoto, and my last day was a home visit in Kobe.

Gotta go to China! Love and miss you all!

The Middle of Nowhere, Pacific Ocean

This was supposed to be sent over 2 days ago, but there were problems with the email server, so just play along :)

News of the week: crossing the international dateline (sob).

Five days in to our 12 (or maybe 11?) day trek across the latter half of the Pacific Ocean, we are finally crossing the dateline. We were supposed to do it yesterday, but since I'm pretty sure its exact location doesn't matter whatsoever, and more people have birthdays on February 2nd than on the 3rd, they decided that all 700ish of us would never experience Wednesday, February 3, 2010. Disregard the time stamp on this entry everybody, because at this instant it is 2306 on Tuesday, and in one hour, it will be 0006 on Thursday! So this February has not 29 days, not 28 days, but a lonely 27. I personally thought it would be hilarious if we were sailing the opposite direction and got two Groundhog Days (heh...).

Tonight was full of celebration and mostly confusion, as our Global Studies professor held a contest for who could best explain this curious thing called the International Dateline. After a quick examination of the applause-o-meter, my friend Zach won, great thanks to his explanation of his Peruvian rodent friend Carl and the unfortunate loss of his tail. If you think I'm crazy, you're wrong. You clearly just don't understand the dateline well enough! Anyway, Zach got a free sweatshirt and I'm jealous.

If you're just dying to hear some real news of my trip, I'm sorry to say that inter-port shipboard life isn't all that exciting. We had class all weekend, I watched lots of films about Mao Zedong, and I had some form of potato in every meal. Last night, however, in celebration of our "No Class Day" today, we had a dance! It was somewhere between a middle school dance and a frat party (a rock and a hard place?) where there were chaperone-ish people (we do live with our professors, remember), yet everyone is in college and recognizes that the opposite sex generally has no cooties. It was pretty funny every time the ship rocked and the entire population of the dance floor fell over in unison! And it was probably pretty hilarious to all the people watching their in-room TVs that none of us dancing kids had any idea we were being videotaped!

Anyway, Japan could not come sooner. If today is the 2nd, and tomorrow is the 4th, and we get there on the 9th, then I still can't figure out how long I have!

Miss you all back home, and please send me emails! I can't remember if my email address is on this site, but its amharburger@semesteratsea.net
And a shout out to my new niece Molly Anne Harburger: I wish I could have been home when you were born, but in Hawaii my new friends and I all welcomed you into the world, even though I feel like I'm a world away. I miss you and love you, and can't wait to meet you!

Honolulu, Hawaii, USA!

Before anything else, I have to make a correction to my last entry. The Islands of Hawaii are between 300,000 and 2 million years old, not 70 million. I'm not sure where I got that extravagant number from!

 

Hawaii was everything I expected and more. Hilo and the Big Island as a whole was just breathtaking. The locals are so friendly that us "SASers" didn't even know how to act at first! People gestured the shaka sign everywhere ("hang loose") even when they were walking on the street gesturing to drivers. I cannot believe that I have only spent 4 days in Hawaii because of all of the things I have managed to pack into the short time.

 

Monday was spent at the botanical garden, which housed some of the most gorgeous trees and flowers that I have ever seen. Tall thin trees lined that paths and bright pink, purple, orange, and yellow flowers sprung up beyond the bridges and waterfalls. After strolling through the peaceful and winding walkway, we spotted to ocean. Two prominent rocks stood out from the shore, and they are referred to as the Two Lovers. The story is that once there was a village near this shore, and two lovers were appointed to guard the village from outside danger. They stood guard until one morning, there were no lovers there, just two black rocks positioned as if they were about to embrace.  This was just one of many stories I learned about certain landmarks all across the island.

 

On Tuesday I went on an organized trip to Volcanoes National Park. It looked absolutely nothing like I though a volcano would! I'm not entirely sure what I expected, but maybe I've seen too many idealized textbook pictures? Regardless, the caldera of Kilauea was enormous. From the museum atop the crater I couldn't even see the caldera in its entirety, only the steaming smaller crater within the main caldera. (The only difference between a caldera and crater is size: caldera is big, crater is small, and in this case, inside a caldera.) Everything within the caldera was flat, hard, and gray, not like the bubbling close ups of live craters I've seen in geology lectures. Once I put aside my expectations, I was truly in awe. I couldn't help but stand at the railing, imagining the young history of this volcano. To think that it is at this moment sitting over a hotspot that has been fueling volcanic activity for 82 million years (this includes the entire Emperor Seamount Chain, the underwater continuation of the Hawaiian archipelago), was just incredible. There I was, standing atop geologic history in the making. It was so new to me since nothing truly exciting is happening on the east coast in terms of new earth being created. Anyway, that's me, the geology major, getting super excited about standing on a volcano!

 

From the park, some friends and I drove to Akaka Falls State Park, where a 400 ft tall waterfall drops down in the middle of the rainforest. Aside from the mosquitoes (whoops) it was one of my favorite places to be. I mean, this is REAL HAWAII. No museums or visitors centers or gift shops, just trees and waterfalls. Awesome.

 

So that's the essence of Hilo for you: super friendly people, and super cool nature! Now for Honolulu.

 

The feel in Honolulu is completely different. People are still nice, without a doubt, but its more likely to run into a tourist than a local. Luckily, no local that I've met gave off an inkling of bitterness towards tourists. I mean, that's really how the state sustains itself.

 

Yesterday morning I went to Pearl Harbor, and that was probably my best experience in Honolulu. I really thought that I would respond the same way I do to all of the war memorials on the National Mall. But this one struck me differently. I truly believe it's because I've spent the last 7+ days on a ship. I have absolutely no experience in war, but the fact that I was on a ship, am in Hawaii, and am currently embarking towards Japan, just culminated into a really interesting experience.

 

Today I spent seeing scenic views around the Island with my friend from high school who is currently enrolled in the University of Hawaii. I'm so happy we got to see each other! She drove me around to some really neat secluded beaches that I never would have seen using public transportation (i.e., NOT Waikiki Beach).

 

Tonight begins the longest stretch of ocean time I'll have, 11 days until Yokohama! And in two hours, I'm partaking in a Goodbye Hawaii/Forgetting Sarah Marshall Party in my friend's cabin. No complaints! (Class tomorrow...)

Hawaii! Pier One, Hilo

Aloha!

 

I realize I have not been updating this blog as much as I had hoped, but to fill you in on the last few days, we have class everyday regardless of the day of the week, so saturday and sunday were school days. It seems a little strange for now, but today starts the equivalent of a four day weekend! My classes are interesting and are slowly but surely giving me a new foundation in my outlook of the places I'm going to. If you didn't know already, I'm taking Global Studies, Sacred Places, Sino-US Relations, and Women and Power in India. The professors are all so knowlegable on both the topics and world travel. I'm excited to get to know them all better!

 

So after spending the last 5 or so days learning about the history and culture of the Hawaiian islands, we finally docked this morning at 5:45 am. A few friends and I slept out on the 7th deck last night and it was beautiful. It was amazing just lying down looking up at the stars as the shifted and swayed through the sky like a swing, as the ship rocked in the waves. Though we were all comfortable at first on yoga mats and in sweatshirts, around 2 am the winds got a little too cold. None of us got much sleep, but I stuck it out until 4 am when I relocated to my soft and cozy cabin bed. So I'm a little sleep deprived already but SO excited to leave the ship and set foot on land. And not just any land, but the 70 million year old volcanic island of Hawaii (more commonly known as The Big Island). I can see Mauna Kea from the window of the computer lab right now, and it looks majestic behind the pinks and yellows of the sunrise. I can even see the observatories from here, known as the best spot in the world to view the night sky.

 

Today I have a full day planned with 3 of my friends. We're going to rent a car and drive to the botanical gardens, spend some time on the beach, and then go to a Semester at Sea sponsered luau with University of Hawaii students. I can't wait for everyone else to clear customs so that we can all start exploring!