tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44365175708312829212024-03-19T08:03:57.046-04:00JRP at SeaFollow my adventures as I travel around the world with Semester at Sea! Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06658126483119184405noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436517570831282921.post-73639421777884801422019-01-22T20:02:00.002-05:002019-01-22T20:02:53.211-05:00Pacific Ocean<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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For most of the month of January, we are living on the Pacific Ocean. Seven days to Hawaii, and then ten days to Japan, as well as a lost day when we cross the International Date Line. Life at sea is what I missed the most, and is what I am most excited and grateful to experience again. There are few opportunities, if ever, to live on the ocean. With the Spring 2019 voyage, I will have now spent over a year of my life living on the ocean, staring out at the horizon, mesmerized by the ever-changing water and sky, admiring a sunrise or sunset that seems on display only for us, out here alone in the ocean, feeling a sense of wonder and awe at the beauty in the world. Most voyagers realize life at sea with the shipboard community was their favorite part of the voyage. I fully agree. As excited as I am to arrive in Japan, I am in no hurry here at home, with life at sea. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06658126483119184405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436517570831282921.post-86710432984724718102019-01-17T21:14:00.000-05:002019-01-28T21:14:53.173-05:00Honolulu, Hawaii<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">With only one day in Honolulu, Hawaii, a refueling stop on our way to Japan, we had limited time in port. Thankfully, Alice’s childhood friend Hilary, who lives in Honolulu, had the day planned for us, even generously welcoming us with leis and a Hawaiian bag of snacks and other items for the ship. Her excitement to show us the island fully enhanced the day, with several experiences we wouldn’t have had without the insight of a local, like a small bakery where they make Filipino breads, and a quiet but beautiful beach where her brother was playing volleyball. Being a sailor herself, Hilary knew we would want to walk around after being on the ship, so we hiked Diamond Head for a beautiful view of the ocean, downtown, and the mountain ranges. Being a sailor, she also has a boat, where we had some wine and lau lau. The day was a much needed break from a long stretch across the Pacific Ocean, and we made the most of the day, arriving back at the ship a little too close to ship time, but on-time as we left port for 10 days at sea on the way to Japan. </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06658126483119184405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436517570831282921.post-69352692513308251092019-01-04T23:34:00.002-05:002019-01-04T23:34:46.361-05:00San Diego, California <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06658126483119184405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436517570831282921.post-71730343380639350102015-06-01T19:00:00.000-04:002018-12-27T00:27:01.005-05:00Spring 2015 Documentary <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I can't believe I lived this, and I can't believe I made this video. I am deeply grateful I did. <a href="https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B_T8tyFbkfWtRnZFOEx0N0pXYjQ">Here is my Spring 2015 documentary video</a>.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06658126483119184405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436517570831282921.post-45002353037256509252015-04-24T23:59:00.000-04:002018-12-27T00:07:18.261-05:00Casablanca, Morocco <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The best word to describe my time in Morocco is 'surprising.' By the time we reached the port of Casablanca, I was tired. I wasn't sure I had the energy to live up to the excitement and anticipation of arriving in Morocco three-years later than I thought I would, when the Fall 2012 voyage had to suddenly cancel our arrival in Morocco. If the sudden cancellation of visiting Morocco in 2012 was the surprise, the surprise in 2015 was the emergence of Morocco as one of the best ports of the voyage. I thought travel fatigue had hit me and I wouldn't see as much as I could have with more energy. Three years ago I was ready to travel around the country and into the desert, but with Morocco being the last port of the 2015 voyage, I was ready to slow down. Descriptions of the walled medina of Fes appealed to me, and I booked an AirBnB, the eighth AirBnB I stayed in during the voyage, for our entire stay in Morocco. With some convincing, Marty joined me, and I think he felt the same level of surprise at what became of our five days in Fes. We were surprised by how adventurous our slow pace in Fes became, from the AirBnB that nobody could believe was our home and not a sacred religious site, from getting lost in the walled medina and wandering wherever our lost path took us, from stumbling upon rooftop views, from stunning sunsets on a hill overlooking the city, from the amount of mint tea we were able to consume in five days, from unexpectedly running into different friends on several occasions, from becoming regulars at a coffee shop and developing a friendship with one of the servers, from feeling as if we went back in time by hundreds of years, from finding a tiny food stall with some of the best soup of our life, from how all the food was so incredible it was arguably the best food of the entire voyage, and from our friendship growing closer from our time together. What an adventurous, beautiful, cultural, exciting, colorful, flavorful, meaningful, and memorable surprise.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06658126483119184405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436517570831282921.post-1203410751909412652015-04-08T16:15:00.000-04:002018-12-24T00:11:29.249-05:00Walvis Bay, Namibia <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We arrived in Namibia with no plans. Marty, Jess, Matthew, and I left Namibia with a movie-worthy road trip together. Sometimes I prefer plans, as our time in port is often short with only three or four nights and it's good to use the time wisely. The road trip in Namibia is a perfect example of the benefits of spontaneity and not having plans. Of course this comes along with risks, like almost leaving town without a map, or driving later at night than planned, with no street lights, in fact no street, just a dirt road and only the moonlight to guide us, or arriving in a small town with three places stay, and the first two had no vacancy. Of course this also comes along with benefits, like randomly running into Erik and Colleen at breakfast, at the one place to stay that still had room for us, or the family of elephants we saw on the side of the road, or the laughter from Marty being disappointed after one of our stops where we only saw some small pieces of petrified wood, when he thought we stopped our car to see Sossusvlei, the desert in the southern part of Namibia worthy of a National Geographic cover. A road trip always brings along unexpected experiences, but this road trip also brought along unexpected lessons. I learned more explicitly how the people, our connections, and our moments together, are what matter the most, not necessarily what we are doing or where we are going. Our time in Namibia was mostly on the road, sitting in a car together, much different that eating ramen in Japan, or the hot air balloon ride in Myanmar, or the stunning beaches in South Africa, but Namibia was as memorable as any other country on our Semester at Sea voyage, as exciting as any other experience, and as fun as any other adventure, because we were sitting in that car together, sharing something together, growing closer to each other. Of course the beauty of Namibia was a major contributing reason, with the huge skies out the window, the adventurousness of the dirt roads, the unknown of what would happen next, the vast landscapes we came across, but all of that became memorable and exciting because we had friends to share it with, friends to reflect with and talk about that crazy moment in time when we went on a road trip in Namibia. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06658126483119184405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436517570831282921.post-49848199719000163402015-04-01T15:10:00.000-04:002018-12-19T15:32:35.178-05:00Cape Town, South Africa <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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When the Fall 2012 voyage left Cape Town, South Africa, because of high winds we weren't able to leave at night, instead leaving the next morning, which allowed us the rare opportunity to leave a port in the daylight, and I remember watching Table Mountain, Lion's Head, 12 Apostles Mountain Range, and one of the world's most beautiful backdrops of a city, slowly fade away as we sailed away. I remember wondering if I would ever see Cape Town again. I remember wondering what it would be like to live in Cape Town, a beautiful city but a city with a difficult history and continued issues despite significant peace and conflict resolution. For five days I was fortunate enough to see Cape Town again, and briefly feel like I lived there, renting an AirBnB for the entire time. I went to the nearby grocery store, I stopped for coffee at various coffee shops and read my book, Marty and Matthew visited me a couple of times and stayed with me in the extra bedroom, I made breakfast for them and opened up the balcony doors for an unobstructed view of Table Mountain, and it all somewhat felt like I lived there. Adding to that feeling, the AirBnB owner lived next door and one day he invited us over for a happy hour get together, which I was excited about since he is a writer, as are Matthew and Marty. He had an incredible library room with a wall of bookshelves. We talked about South African writers and he shared with us his thoughts about living in Cape Town. He was welcoming, open, gracious, and the best AirBnB owner I've ever met. Matthew, Marty, and I also went to Camps Bay, where we walked on the white sand of the beach and the rocks by the water, with the 12 Apostles Mountain Range lighting up from the lowering sun. Our friendship definitely grew stronger and closer in Cape Town with all the time we spent together. Matthew and I also went to Robben Island, where we saw Nelson Mandela's cell, and a former prisoner led a tour and gave us more insight into the horrible, but triumphant history, of the island. I ran out of time to visit Robben Island in 2012, and I am grateful I was able to return to Cape Town and experience the power of a first-hand account of apartheid in South Africa, which was absolutely a necessary part of understanding the complex history of the country, a place I was able to call home for those meaningful five days. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06658126483119184405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436517570831282921.post-2135040350235683842015-03-19T14:22:00.000-04:002018-12-19T14:22:25.629-05:00Port Louis, Mauritius <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Mauritius is a fuel stop, so we only spent one day on the small island in the Indian Ocean off the coast of Africa. To give myself the best chance at seeing as much as possible I joined a field program that toured some of the island's most beautiful sights, including the Chamarel waterfall, one of the most beautiful waterfalls I have ever seen in my life, the Seven Coloured Earth, a fascinating geological formation, the Black River Gorges National Park, with a stunning viewpoint across the hills and forests, Le Morne Peninsula, where the Le Morne Brabant mountain powerfully dominates the skyline behind the beach, and a viewpoint overlooking several of Mauritius' peaks. We toured all of these beautiful sights with a colorful tour guide who spoke passionately about his love for rum, especially when enjoying rum while hiding indoors during some of the powerful cyclones that hit the island. From his stories we gained a good sense of island life, and on an island as small as Mauritius, life there seemed very communal, with an appreciation for the beauty of nature surrounding them, as well as an appreciation for the island's rum distilleries. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06658126483119184405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436517570831282921.post-48955708134377370972015-03-12T17:42:00.000-04:002018-12-18T17:44:30.536-05:00Kochi, India<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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My memory of our time in India seems fitting for the country, as my memories are colorful, varied, spontaneous, and unique. I can't clearly remember the order of events. I don't remember how everything came together. In the end, I have a collection of lasting memories and deeper connections with friends, thanks to the seemingly endless richness of culture in India. I remember Kyle, Aeriel, and I taking many tuk-tuk rides, which often involved unwanted shopping stops. Negotiating with tuk-tuk drivers was sometimes exhausting, when their deals with shop owners resulted in them offering us lower prices for rides if we stopped at a shop or two; offering more for a ride without shopping stops wasn't really an option. Our mentioning that we would take the ferry often resulted in tuk-tuk drivers telling us the ferry wasn't operating today (even though it was). Regardless, the tuk-tuk rides were fun and a great way to see the life of the city moving around us, kids in uniforms going to school, goats wandering in the street, people standing around on the sidewalks, an elephant in a backyard, kids playing in the parks. Kyle, Aeriel, and I walked around the city exploring churches, beaches, cemeteries, ending up in the background of a travel and food show, and running into Matthew and Daphne twice, once for a delicious, sugary, ginger and lemon drink, and another time at Dal Roti for kati rolls, one of the best food items I had in India, and the voyage. I remember Matthew and I walking around, exploring several bookstores, the Chinese fishing nets, and riding the ferries to get around. I remember sweating a lot every day. I went to my first-ever yoga class, a pretty serious and advanced yoga class too. A large group of Semester at Sea faculty and staff members met up at a yoga school, where we were able to drop-in for a class, followed by eating a meal together sitting on the floor in a round circle, where out of fear of stomach issues I mostly ate rice. Another night a large group of us went to a Kathalkali dance performance in the theatre. I was on a homestay one night and stayed with a Catholic family, who showed me their local church and were happy to talk about faith with me. They cooked us an incredible meal, some of the best fish I ever ate. The homestay field program also included a ride in the Alleppey backwaters, visiting a farm in the backwaters as well as a rug factory. Of all the jumbled memories, likely out of order, the clear highlight of our time in India was a 1-night, 2-day houseboat stay in the Alleppey backwaters. Matthew, Jess, Marty, Kyle, Aeriel, Cassie, Kyle, and I gathered together on a houseboat, slowly drifting through the backwaters with nothing to do and no stops to make. We simply lived on a houseboat in the backwaters for a couple of days, eating amazingly delicious home-cooked meals from the small staff onboard, and making much deeper connections with each other, taking advantage of the time we had to talk and share stories. I remember us talking about what our perfect day would be, a topic likely inspired by feeling the perfection of a day in a houseboat in the Alleppey backwaters in India.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06658126483119184405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436517570831282921.post-46844790878719407992015-03-01T11:48:00.000-05:002018-12-18T15:46:52.494-05:00Yangon, Myanmar<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1LefxsLAKb1O7S25YoKBEkI1cf74RMp_dDC_dd1S7jmYAI3UbSuBsh41vy3KuCXhLIAPZ3deU_xwDJ-ZdffW2R8lPccNCCsYKhXEJmXdOEWzmX6SmInUZefiHnkhjzQnz1oeSBjJjzzJx/s1600/11031028_10152723517691732_3987738083634324835_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1LefxsLAKb1O7S25YoKBEkI1cf74RMp_dDC_dd1S7jmYAI3UbSuBsh41vy3KuCXhLIAPZ3deU_xwDJ-ZdffW2R8lPccNCCsYKhXEJmXdOEWzmX6SmInUZefiHnkhjzQnz1oeSBjJjzzJx/s400/11031028_10152723517691732_3987738083634324835_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Arriving in Myanmar was undoubtedly one of the more adventurous moments of our voyage. Few people have been to Myanmar, which enhanced my gratitude for what we were experiencing. Arriving at the port of Yangon, with mist and fog rising from the ground, with the rising sun illuminating them into gold clouds, made the arrival even more magical. Wandering around Yangon the first day was one of those days where all your senses are heightened, from street food, street vendors, crowded streets, beautiful balconies on old buildings, power lines stretched across streets, birds and birdcages, people wearing Thanaka on their faces, an old train running through the city, a deep-red sunset, and then the highlight of the day, the iconic Shwedagon Pagoda, the gold-plated stupa surrounded by candles, buddhas, shrines, and spiritual offerings. The next day I went on one of the best Semester at Sea field programs I ever joined, a three-night, four-day journey to Mandalay and Bagan, traveling between the two cities by boat, on the Irrawaddy River. One of the reasons the program was better than most was because of our tour guide Su Su, who was truly happy to welcome us to her country that she clearly and dearly loves. She treated us like family, and the best evidence of how she openly interacted with us like family was the tears she cried as she said goodbye to our group four days later. Having Su Su tell us stories, explain spiritual practices, read our palms, and answer our questions, created a more immersive experience with her as our guide. My photos and videos from Myanmar are some of the best of the entire voyage, from the teak posts of the U Bein Bridge, the gold-plated Mahamuni Buddha, the mystical wood-carvings of the Shwe Kyaung monastery, the Kuthodaw Pagoda with 729 stupas, each containing a marble slab page of the worlds largest book, the daylong ride along the Irrawaddy River, starting and ending with a glowing sunrise and sunset, passing along fishing boats and stopping in a village to interact with locals and learn about how the riverbank clay provides a thriving pottery industry, and one of the highlights of the entire voyage, a sunrise hot air balloon ride over the thousands of pagodas of Bagan. If sailing around the world wasn't enough to make me think I was only dreaming, the hot air balloon ride over the pagodas of Bagan certainly felt like a surreal dream, far far away from real life. That such a beautiful, spiritual, and magical city like Bagan could also be relatively free of tourists, since Myanmar only recently opened its borders to tourists, made the experience all the more a surreal dream, yet this was my real life, and a moment in my life for which I am eternally grateful. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06658126483119184405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436517570831282921.post-69279099651111426312015-02-21T11:30:00.000-05:002018-12-11T11:32:00.273-05:00Singapore, Singapore <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNEgIDhoXz11oMyM2I3dckVDzBW1VHhe6gkdUXy_chK9qc-HlzGzLojsjczhoZ6ehPq3h9IZbHkiPGBX6SY367xSF58DE7P-9Mh6kJfdus8lOizGO9U7JUFpHnLF7pNWA1BTNGqHVEHcX1/s1600/IMG_9590.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNEgIDhoXz11oMyM2I3dckVDzBW1VHhe6gkdUXy_chK9qc-HlzGzLojsjczhoZ6ehPq3h9IZbHkiPGBX6SY367xSF58DE7P-9Mh6kJfdus8lOizGO9U7JUFpHnLF7pNWA1BTNGqHVEHcX1/s400/IMG_9590.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Admittedly, I didn't have high expectations for Singapore, partly because our stay in port was much shorter than other locations (only one night and two days before sailing to Myanmar, one of the more exciting destinations), and partly for the likely unjustified and assumed reason that I thought the city, although international, diverse, and modern, would lack uniqueness and character. Also, we were suddenly off the ship more than we were on the ship, by a significant margin. After a long Pacific Ocean crossing we were in Japan, China, Vietnam, and now Singapore, leaving us off the ship for 21 days, and on the ship for 6 days. The pace was rapid, often with 2 days on the ship in between 6 days in different countries. My body was tired. I walked a tremendous amount of miles during the past three weeks, and my legs, especially my knees, felt the distance. However, in keeping with a voyage of endless surprises and adventure, Singapore offered uniqueness, culture, and peacefulness, all opposite of my expectations. In fact, the uniqueness, culture, and peacefulness all emerged the first morning, starting with the popular and local breakfast item of kaya toast, which is a coconut jam on toast that you dip into a soft-boiled egg and soy sauce, and continued as Kyle, Aeriel, Annie, Marty, and I, explored the quiet, artsy, and mostly residential neighborhood of Tiong Bahru. We spent a lot of time slowly wandering through a bookstore, admiring the unique books and publications from local writers. Afterward we went to a third-wave coffee shop across the street where I had a second breakfast of banana-bacon-brioche French toast and coffee. We then walked through the quiet streets of the neighborhood, admiring the little scenes of bikes against a wall, potted plants outside homes, and laundry hanging from balconies. We found our way back into the busier part of the city and into the Little India neighborhood, where we ate paratha from one of the endless food stalls and wandered the streets as the men on the sidewalks stared quite blatantly at the women in our group. We moved on for them to be more comfortable and found some local kopi coffee, which tasted similar and arguably just as good as my all-time favorite Vietnamese coffee. A large group of about 20 was outside a cultural center practicing for a concert the next night, which provided a perfect background for finishing our coffee. Kyle, Aeriel, and I ended the night visiting some of the more iconic sights of Singapore, like the Marina Bay Sands and the Gardens by the Bay. While the first day brought far more unique culture than I expected, the next day brought far more unique peacefulness than I expected. For most of the day, Jess, Kyle, Marty and I hiked along the Southern Ridges, which is hiking path that connects several parks around the southern ridge of the city. In between parks, the trail often changes along the way, offering panoramic views of the city, a bridge designed in a slanted shape of waves, a ground-level forest walk, and a canopy walk along the tops of the trees. As all good hikes do, the trail gave us a chance to slow down, talk, laugh, get to know one another better, share stories and past experiences, and take a break from the frenetic pace of the voyage. Singapore pleasantly surprised me and defiantly brought an abundance of culture, uniqueness, and peacefulness to oppose my expectations. Perhaps my urban expectations for Singapore were not completely unfounded though, as later that night, the MV Explorer left Singapore, passing alongside a stunning amount of cargo ships and container ports, as Singapore is the second busiest port in the world (Shanghai is the busiest). </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06658126483119184405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436517570831282921.post-48225221193656379602015-02-16T14:00:00.000-05:002015-03-23T14:04:54.283-04:00Saigon, Vietnam<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9eVjj09mNy6OlJ78SZWkGwaGVr2dK-qdgEnLEMMt3kkpTM0ZN_63BcsGbU3Yu_OT1ChtAJ1ld8hzdPhgVRrUOwKyqRAN8PrQohR1vOJvQ9pxSUI_bou7PlglPINUMY85sbwjdvBZLLZ1p/s1600/IMG_9365ps.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9eVjj09mNy6OlJ78SZWkGwaGVr2dK-qdgEnLEMMt3kkpTM0ZN_63BcsGbU3Yu_OT1ChtAJ1ld8hzdPhgVRrUOwKyqRAN8PrQohR1vOJvQ9pxSUI_bou7PlglPINUMY85sbwjdvBZLLZ1p/s1600/IMG_9365ps.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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I remember being in Harrisonburg in the fall, and
something, often my Vespa, would remind me that I would be returning to Vietnam
in the spring, and I would suddenly be filled with joy and anticipation. My
life in the United States has various traces of Vietnam in my daily life, from
the Vespa I bought weeks after returning from Vietnam to the Vietnamese coffee
I buy in the Asian market and brew with the drip coffee filter I purchased in
Saigon a year-and-a-half earlier. Vietnam is close to my heart. When I say that
Semester at Sea changed my life, I can make the statement a little less cliché
with evidence. How I changed is most evident in my trip to Vietnam six months
after the Fall 2012 voyage ended. I booked the trip weeks before leaving, which
is action I simply wouldn’t have taken before the Semester at Sea voyage opened
up my life to international travel. Something about Vietnam drew me in before I
left, and drew me in forever after I left. Bruce Springsteen songs about
Vietnam, going to the Vietnamese shopping center in Virginia, meeting someone
from Vietnam, going to the Vietnamese restaurant in Windsor Locks, photographs
of Vietnam, or simply seeing the word ‘Vietnam’ immediately captures my
attention. The morning we arrived in Vietnam awakened my attention and brought
a joy and anticipation more fulfilling than daydreaming of Vietnam from the
other side of the globe ever could. As we walked off the bus in front of the
Post Office and Notre Dame Cathedral, I immediately recognized the streets and
was able to walk towards my AirBnB apartment, stopping for lunch on the way,
without a map. The motorbikes, street food, and Vietnamese people felt like a
home I missed. The last time I was in Saigon I was busy, visiting sites within
and outside of the city. This time, I planned on feeling like a resident of the
city, slowly drinking iced coffee and eating fresh Vietnamese food. The bright
and modern apartment I found became an even better choice thanks to the
friendly and interesting owners who talked with us and made us feel like we had
local friends in Vietnam. Throughout my stay they remained around the property since
they were converting the building to AirBnB apartments. On the way to the
rooftop space five of us got stuck in a four person elevator, which was the
first time I ever got stuck in an elevator. The next several days were exactly
what I hoped for, although a little busier than I anticipated, as I made myself
at home in my Saigon apartment. We had iced coffee in cafes to hide from the
midday heat. We had iced coffees in cafes at sunset to watch the busy streets
turn to night. We had drinks on a rooftop bar, a growing trend in Saigon, to
see the streetlights and motorbikes bring the night to life. I jumped on
motorbikes for taxi rides around town, although I had no idea who was an actual
motorbike taxi driver and who was a random guy with a motorbike looking to make
some money. In the morning I went to the park, where all the locals come to fly
their pet birds, do tai chi, play jianzi, and drink coffee. I found popular
locations for pho and banh mi, I went to a spa for a traditional Vietnamese
massage, and I went to a show at the Saigon Opera House. I walked around the
flower market, a sea of yellow and pink flowers in preparation for Tet, the New
Year, only a few days away. One night a group of us went on a motorbike foodie
tour, where we rode on the back of motorbikes and spent five hours riding around
various districts outside of the more popular tourist areas, making several
stops for delicious and authentic Vietnamese food. The evening was definitely a
highlight of our time in Vietnam, not only for the motorbike riding and the
food, but for the fun and interactive company of our drivers who ate with us. I
then joined a Semester at Sea field program for a homestay in the Mekong Delta,
which was a great way to experience a region of the Mekong Delta I had not
visited during my previous trip to Vietnam. We spent most of the day on a few
different boats, cruising through both open waters and narrow channels. We
docked in a village for lunch, where I wrapped a pet snake around my shoulders,
and we took a small four-person sampan boat down a lush and narrow channel and
stopped in a village for the night, riding bicycles around the village before
sunset, and then helping cook our dinner. The next day we visited Heifer
International and put in some work on the farm. The day after, we visited the
famous floating market, where various goods are sold from boats in the water. As
we left Vietnam, I felt a little sad to leave, and a little like a spoiled
child with a bad attitude. I probably shouldn’t have a bad attitude after six
wonderful days in Vietnam, but I didn’t want to leave. I wasn’t sure when I
would be back. Having traveled to Vietnam twice within a couple of years and
always seeking to explore new countries and cultures, despite Vietnam being one
of my favorite places in the world, I felt unsure of how soon I would be back
and I felt uneasy knowing I might not be back in the near future. One can
easily excuse sadness by giving a false sense of comfort that you can always
come back one day, which is true, but the world is a big place with many
interesting countries to visit, and life is short. I feel confident that I will
return to Vietnam one day, and in many ways I could see myself staying in
Vietnam for an extended amount of time at some point in my life, but as we
watched Saigon fade beyond the horizon as we moved out of the Saigon River, I felt
sad, almost like I was betraying a country I love by leaving without any
definite plans to return. One of the reasons we often all feel sad when leaving
a country is because we make connections during these days in port, with the
people and the culture, and then we leave without knowing if we will be back.
Fortunately, Vietnam remains in my heart and traces of Vietnam remain in my
daily life. Upon returning to the United States, some of the first actions I
will take will be going to a Vietnamese restaurant, making Vietnamese iced
coffee, and riding my Vespa, which I am tremendously impatient to do after
being surrounded by motorbikes for a week. I won’t be in Saigon when I am on my
Vespa in Virginia, but my love for Vietnam and the way the culture remains with
me, is certainly the reason I am on a Vespa. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06658126483119184405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436517570831282921.post-60077565328458659562015-02-08T11:42:00.000-05:002015-03-01T11:44:53.542-05:00Hong Kong, China<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz4UAJrHoMVWCMZ1a2OU1yqfGKIsjH95l6W-6j_n_pb9BhJ2l2LRgPZf5mD5hV1QpOMVO_2TGvbsHsQryBACWxDFSzwoNfVu7TA7Q53Rnmqq_mXqVceVBTuwChnD9McsQ80RARfTof_tkQ/s1600/IMG_8635ps.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz4UAJrHoMVWCMZ1a2OU1yqfGKIsjH95l6W-6j_n_pb9BhJ2l2LRgPZf5mD5hV1QpOMVO_2TGvbsHsQryBACWxDFSzwoNfVu7TA7Q53Rnmqq_mXqVceVBTuwChnD9McsQ80RARfTof_tkQ/s1600/IMG_8635ps.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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I could write various stories about Hong Kong, including my
AirBnB apartment in SoHo, at the top of the Central/Mid-Levels escalator, the
longest outdoor covered escalator system in the world, which much more easily
takes you up the steep hills of Hong Kong Island, or my adventures around SoHo
and PoHo, where I ate delicious food and found quirky stores where I could have
designed a wonderfully unique apartment with all the vintage and modern home
furnishings I saw, or I could write about the endless dim sum I ate every day
and often multiple times a day. I could also write about a friend’s fun birthday,
when a group of us went out for dinner, drinks, and dessert, wandering around
the streets of SoHo. I could write about the sights I saw, including the stunning
architecture in Hong Kong, Man Mo Temple, Star Ferry, Hong Kong Island light
show, Kowloon, Temple Street Night Market, or Victoria Peak both at night and
during the day. I think the better story is something I wrote one day in PoHo,
an upcoming neighborhood that appears to be overcoming some abandoned buildings
and currently has far less crowds and equally good food, architecture,
galleries, and street wandering. Here is what I wrote: As I sat in Teakha, the
taste of black tea with sea salt, coffee, and condensed milk in every sip and
the taste of apricot ginger granola with yogurt, blueberries, pomegranate, and
roselle compote in every bite, my eyes closed while sitting at a wooden table
dimly lit by mason jar lamps hanging from thick rope, with a light breeze
sporadically sneaking through the partially opened windows, I was able to close
my eyes and leave my overly stimulated mind and look down upon myself, in Hong
Kong after six days in Japan and three days in China, and I thought about how
one day I won't be alive in this world, but on this day I was indeed truly
alive and awake, sitting in a back alley Teahouse, and I thought about what a
shockingly gifted life I was in the middle of living, and despite all the
sadness, confusion, and disappointment life can bring, life can also be
surprisingly beautiful, joyful, and fulfilling, especially when traveling on a
ship through vast seas and oceans, surrounded by ever-changing skies and water,
dropped off in new countries every week, experiencing new languages,
currencies, traditions, cultures, and people, and allowing travel to open my
mind, heart, and soul, not selfishly receiving experiences that quickly expire,
but with a vigilant commitment that these experiences remain alive and
continued, helping me learn how to respond to the fact that around the world
millions of people lead difficult lives, often with happiness but undoubtedly
with challenges, and guided by this increasing awareness of others I want to
change the person I am for the better, in the same way my family brought me
into this world and filled me with love, encouragement, support, and
foundations, and now quite literally sent me out into the world, a sending
forth I hope I responded to in a way that evokes pride, not for my sake but a
reward for their hard work, with past and new experiences intertwined, like the
old and new buildings rising out of the streets and hills of Hong Kong, with
stories of confusion and disappointment but also with beauty and joy, these
memories of the past and hopes for the future, all crowded into this present
moment, which every now and then, with the proper environment, like a Teahouse
in Hong Kong, we can step aside for a moment with closed eyes and look at where
we are in this rather surprising gift of life.
<b><o:p></o:p></b></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06658126483119184405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436517570831282921.post-20359341992659575712015-02-04T06:13:00.000-05:002015-02-23T06:16:37.236-05:00Shanghai, China<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZiqwkxjbBWK59WQmoPfGukfPUCvRgS2dZs6ERTRSR6f6wDzJ2cifXk-EluCQJdR9q3h5V1j0IrQTSDGrfxDevEM3Lhh4gqWUW7au8pJlBov4ywFZnLfPcWMJey5mKq1OTUU59JuGjZoDr/s1600/IMG_8180ps.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZiqwkxjbBWK59WQmoPfGukfPUCvRgS2dZs6ERTRSR6f6wDzJ2cifXk-EluCQJdR9q3h5V1j0IrQTSDGrfxDevEM3Lhh4gqWUW7au8pJlBov4ywFZnLfPcWMJey5mKq1OTUU59JuGjZoDr/s1600/IMG_8180ps.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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I didn’t love Shanghai, China, but the purpose of our
voyage is not to fall in love with every country. We are here to learn about
these countries and cultures, to get out of our comfort zone, to become more open-minded,
to increase our global perspective, and to experience new ways of life. I’m
grateful for our time in China. Even though the majority of voyagers didn’t
like Shanghai, and I share their thoughts, Shanghai offered a much needed
awakening to a culture different from our own. Although the experience might
not have always been pleasant, the experience was cultural and challenging, broadening
our perspective and opening our minds. Japan provided a comfort and familiarity
that eased our traveling. Shanghai did not, which first became apparent when we
tried to find a taxi to our AirBnB apartment in the French Concession. I heard
about Chinese taxi drivers not wanting to deal with tourists who can’t speak
Chinese, and to be honest, I don’t blame them; however, watching available
taxis speed away wasn’t pleasant. Eventually we found a willing driver, who was
only slightly relieved to see that we had our address written in Chinese.
Meeting our AirBnB owner, a young expat from South Carolina, was a highlight of
the day. He offered to join us for lunch and took us to Din Tai Fung for dim
sum. As we shared xiaolongbao, an absolutely delicious steamed-bun soup
dumpling I impatiently waited to eat ever since I learned about them months
before the voyage, he answered all of our questions about life in Shanghai. Not
only did we get advice about what to eat and how to spend our time, we also
learned more about his transition to life in Shanghai. Even better, I got to
ride on the back of his scooter as we drove through the tree-lined streets of
the French Concession, where the tree branches curve above the road to create a
natural canopy of beautiful lines from the bare branches of winter. In the
AirBnB apartment I learned that Shanghai buildings are often cold, as the walls
fails to keep out the cold despite the heating unit on the wall. I also learned
that beds in Shanghai homes are often not comfortable, as I would later try to
use all the extra blankets to create a cushion underneath while also providing
warmth from the cold room. I also learned that my local community had a lot of
cats, whose litter smell came through the bathroom window and into the bedroom,
since the bathroom window opened directly into the neighbor’s home. Shanghai is
also a massive city, and isn’t compact. The French Concession is hugely spread
out, and walking to a different neighborhood is not easily done, as your legs
are exhausted before you even leave the French Concession. We moved over to the
Old Town neighborhood, where we went to the famous Nanxiang Steamed Bun
Restaurant for yet more xiaolongbao for dinner, which is where I learned that
service in Shanghai is not a priority; however, what appears to be a dismissive
rudeness is only my perception. Coming from a culture that values customer
service, I found the Chinese in Shanghai to be dismissive and annoyed with me,
which is certainly understandable since I’m a tourist, but much of this was my
perception of rudeness because of the environment in which I am more
comfortable and familiar, and given the culture in China, no rudeness or
dismissiveness is actually intended. We continued to walk through Old Town,
where the buildings’ curves from the traditional architecture were enhanced and
accentuated with lights that soon went out along with the crowds. We finished
the night with a drink in the French Concession, mostly to find a place to hide
from the freezing cold out in the streets. On the streets I learned about the
hacking and spitting. Apparently in Chinese culture the constant loud
throat-clearing-spitting is an acceptable act of cleansing, but from my
perception it’s mostly gross. The next day a group of us gathered in Tian Zi
Fang, where a community of alleys magically appears off a main street, with
narrow walkways and a variety of shops, bars, and cafes. We had breakfast and
coffee, with the coffee highly recommended and in fact delicious, in a corner
nook illuminated by windows all around us. Afterwards a friend and I continued
on to People’s Park, where several different groups of people gathered, some
playing chess, dominoes or sharing photographs, and others were protesting
something we didn’t understand. Before we left the park we were approached by
three tourists apparently from Beijing who wanted us to take their picture, and
afterwards continued to talk to us because they were happy to practice their
English. After developing some comradery they encouraged us to go to a tea
ceremony they were about to attend. Fortunately we said no, because if you
Google this scenario, you will soon see that we were approached for the tea
ceremony scam in Shanghai. The whole routine was rehearsed, practiced over
several years and still continuing, and had we joined them we would have seen a
tea ceremony, but they would also give us an astronomical bill that we would be
pressured into paying as we sat in a small room not knowing what would happen
if we didn’t pay. Happy to not be scammed, we went a different way and walked
along Nanjing Road, and I continued on to the Bund, the waterfront area along
the Huangpu River. I went on the Bund Sightseeing Tunnel, a rather strange but
entertaining light show in a tunnel to cross the river to Pudong, where I went
to the top of the Oriental Pearl Tower for an enlightening view of the
pollution in Shanghai. I learned how polluted Shanghai is from above, where at
263 meters I should see a blue sky and a massive collection of skyscrapers, but
instead I only saw the skyscrapers that emerged before the pollution drowned
out the buildings, sky, and sun into a cloud of gray. By the end of the night
the pollution would cause my eyes to turn red and slightly sting. My time in
the Oriental Pearl Tower, however, was peaceful, as I looked down upon our
ship, the MV Explorer, and contemplated on where this ship brought me in the
past and where the ship was about to take me. I thought about the thousands of students
who have traveled on the MV Explorer, a ship they often think about and miss. I
thought about how lucky I am to see the ship with my own eyes, 263 meters above
the river, because I’m currently on a voyage. I remembered how we are on the
last Semester at Sea voyage on the MV Explorer and how fortunate and privileged
we are to have a floating home that continues to provide us with new
experiences in new countries, helping us learn about the bigger world we are a
part of, exposing us to new cultures and new ways of life, broadening our
perspective of the world, and helping us realize that despite differences, we
are all human, and ultimately the same, with hopes, dreams, and daily lives.
Despite not falling in love with Shanghai, I felt grateful to be a part of a
Semester at Sea voyage where I can learn about other cultures by actually
visiting a country like China, instead of only hearing about China on the
television or in the newspapers or online. I ended the night by viewing Pudong
from the other side of the tunnel, looking back upon the Oriental Pearl Tower
now spectacularly lit, illustrating the tremendous growth that has occurred in
Shanghai. With the pollution, the growth is probably too much and too fast and too
densely populated, and I was happy to leave. I also learned about the pushy
culture of the subways on my way back to the French Concession. If you want to
get on the subway in a massive crowd, you push and pay no attention to personal
space. Again, this was my perception from what I am used to in the United
States, but Chinese culture is different, and that doesn’t necessarily mean bad
or good, it just means different. I smiled as I was pushed around because I
felt happy to be experiencing something new, in a culture far removed from the
comforts of home. I don’t think I would return to Shanghai, but I learned a
lot, which is why we are on this voyage. I had the wonderful opportunity to
experience life in a much different culture. I was out of my comfort zone, I
broadened my perspective, and I learned about life in Shanghai, which is
ultimately the reason why this ship takes us around the world. <o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06658126483119184405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436517570831282921.post-91698978984901761982015-01-31T05:26:00.000-05:002015-02-23T06:17:10.809-05:00Kyoto, Japan<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJsHj0eH9hoPH-d3VYsphI0PIoEMFiW9LlU03YrX9q2som8fvBTWHdjYYGZlk7kMs8T27Cuu9lpCd4-SxDjksznV7fo7xqVwZZn4MqSJXunae6fB8-CF8Y0lb4xYE7o7VVMq-5YxZe6seC/s1600/IMG_7888ps.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJsHj0eH9hoPH-d3VYsphI0PIoEMFiW9LlU03YrX9q2som8fvBTWHdjYYGZlk7kMs8T27Cuu9lpCd4-SxDjksznV7fo7xqVwZZn4MqSJXunae6fB8-CF8Y0lb4xYE7o7VVMq-5YxZe6seC/s1600/IMG_7888ps.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
Arriving in Kyoto together, on time, was most likely the
result of some guardian angels of traveling. I really don’t know how we walked
on to our bullet train to Kyoto seconds before the train left. Meeting at large
silver bell in the Central Passage of Tokyo Station was easy in theory, but my
friends had my ticket, which I needed to enter the Central Passage, assuming I
could find the Central Passage, which I couldn’t find. Without a way to
communicate with each other we had to guess where to find each other. The
bullet train to Kyoto would be a likely choice, but most of us didn’t know
where to find the train, including me, even though a nice Japanese woman gave
me a temporary ticket to enter the gates. Two minutes before departure time I
was closer to our train but I was walking the wrong way and somehow my friends
saw me, grabbed my arm, we quickly found the correct platform and the bullet
train sped off seconds after we walked on, mostly because the nice Japanese man
kept pushing the button to keep the door open for us. The Japanese people we
encountered are truly friendly, welcoming, and helpful people, offering joyous greetings
upon entering a restaurant and willingly helping the tourists who would annoy most
locals in other countries. After a late-night dinner at the Family Mart konbini,
we rested and started the next day with a much needed and relaxing breakfast at
the Café Bibliotic, where we found carefully prepared pastries in the attached
bakery. With the heat blasted we happily escaped the cold winter streets of
Kyoto, and were instead surrounded by books, wood architecture, and Japanese
hipsters all dressed far better than us. The Japanese certainly know how to
dress, with trendy black coats and scarves, dark tailored pants, and dapper shoes.
Our next stop was Kinkaku-ji Shrine, the Temple of the Golden Pavilion, which
despite a huge crowd of tourists, still managed to convey the peace,
tranquility, and beauty of the original intention. The gold temple looked like
an apparition with the curving lines of the mountains in the background and the
reflecting pond and gardens in the foreground. After wandering around and
trying some more konbini snacks, along with vending machine hot coffee and
various cold drinks, a brilliant
offering on almost every other street in Japan, we furthered our wandering
around the Gion District, but unfortunately failed to see a Geisha in the dark
streets. Working up a tremendous hunger we were rewarded with a warm,
flavorful, and intricately prepared udon meal, along with sweet potato tempura
and pork cutlet tempura, a meal I would think about for the next two days until
I went back again. The next day I ventured off on my own, wandering and
exploring, one of the true joys of being in a new country. Unfortunately the
first half of the day was rainy, but I found several hideouts from the rain. My
wandering led me to bookstores overflowing with books on the shelves and
stairs, a return trip to the Café Bibliotic for the brilliantly delicious
peanut butter pastry, soon followed by fresh, and fun, conveyor belt sushi at
Musashi Sushi, where one of the servers gave me recommendations. I continued to
hide from the rain in the covered streets of the Nishiki Market, a narrow and
seemingly endless alley of colors, sounds, sights, and vendors, with fresh
fish, meat, spices, and various goods for sale. I managed to find room for
grilled mochi with red bean paste, matcha dorayaki cakes, and a matcha cake
slice. With the rain finally stopped, I took the train to the Fushimi Inari
Taisha Shrine, where as many as 10,000 torii gates are lined up one after the
other in over 4 kilometers to the top of the mountain. The Fushimi Inari Shrine
was definitely a highlight of Kyoto. I arrived shortly before sunset when there
wasn’t a crowd of people. With less people I could more easily place myself in
a peaceful retreat in the woods. The thousands of orange torri gates, slowly fading
in color as the sun went down, lined up in a maze through the woods, with thousands
of small shrines located off to the side, as well as numerous fox sculptures,
and a large pond around one turn, made the site a mystical place, an architectural
wonder, and a spiritual experience. Afterwards, although I was able to find a
backstreet yakitori restaurant, a 36 Hours in Kyoto New York Times article made
the location too popular for me to walk in without a reservation, so I moved
along to another well-reviewed yakitori restaurant, where I sat at the bar and
watched the cooks grill the chicken, quail eggs, chicken meatball with egg
yolk, and heart that I ordered. The next day we had to be back on the ship, but
a friend and I decided to make the most out of the time we had, visiting the Kiyomizu
Dera temple in the morning. The temple is tucked alongside a mountain and
surrounded by trees, except for the eastern side where there is a clear view of
the city skyline, and is a perfect embodiment of Kyoto, where traditional and
modern seamlessly blend together. Although the temple is popular and crowded,
the feeling of a spiritual retreat remained alive, especially as the snow
started to fall. I will always remember the sun shining and snow falling at the
same time, as we stood on the edge of the temple’s balcony looking upon the
mountains and the skyline of Kyoto, with incense burning and worshipers bowing
and clapping, recognizing that we had just spent 5 nights and 6 days in Japan,
quickly learning more about the culture and becoming more comfortable in a new
country. We said goodbye to Kyoto with three more eating and drinking visits within
a couple of hours, including a repeat visit to the udon restaurant and a new
visit to an old 1950’s style basement bar famous for its coffee and donut. The
owner quietly and meticulously weighed and measured the coffee during the
preparation. Well-dressed Japanese men and women quietly read in the basement
retreat on a busy street, yet another blend of the busy and modern aspects of
Japan and the quiet and serene aspects of Japan. Our last visit was to the conveyor belt sushi restaurant I found a couple of days earlier, where I joyfully
and sadly ate my last bite of fresh sushi in Japan. Hanging on to every last
minute of Japan, we arrived at the ship and I suddenly found myself back in my
cabin after six days of a tremendous amount of walking, a glorious amount of
Japanese food, a culturally enriching comparison of Tokyo and Kyoto, and our
first memories and experiences in a new country during the Spring 2015 voyage.
Japan is easily a country in which I could live. What a wonderful country where
you bow instead of shaking hands, you take your shoes off when entering a home,
you carefully prepare fresh and delicious food with attention to detail, you are
quiet on the subway, you are welcoming and respectful to others, you honor
spiritual traditions, and you embrace eccentricity.<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06658126483119184405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436517570831282921.post-13458877436395630402015-01-28T10:39:00.000-05:002015-02-08T10:43:05.804-05:00Tokyo, Japan<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj36ln1FhqR3kRnb3sA7bYi-E1OjaHN5YiyO03cHp_lS3-9RfKtw4TyxXsAd6wc_kU653aRqQzao5jgrVZihOBv1N6Es0LXXMLlsZ3io1fjRKFaluw9pznznLCT3_dozoNnTmekXPm8MzpW/s1600/IMG_7468ps.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj36ln1FhqR3kRnb3sA7bYi-E1OjaHN5YiyO03cHp_lS3-9RfKtw4TyxXsAd6wc_kU653aRqQzao5jgrVZihOBv1N6Es0LXXMLlsZ3io1fjRKFaluw9pznznLCT3_dozoNnTmekXPm8MzpW/s1600/IMG_7468ps.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
After leaving San Diego on January 6<sup>th</sup>,
we spent 17 of 19 days at sea. During our route to Japan we were alone at sea.
No ships, no land, only a few seabirds, and weeks of ocean water. Waking up on
January 26<sup>th</sup> to finally see other ships and to finally see land, was
surreal and I struggled to comprehend that we had crossed the massive Pacific
Ocean. The last few days brought rough seas. Students fell out of chairs,
dishes slid and broke, my shower water poured out of the shower and onto the
bathroom floor, people were slightly grumpy, and I often felt nauseous during
the last two days. A week earlier we went hundreds of miles off course to avoid
a major storm that would have brought 50 foot swells. Fortunately we only had
18-20 foot swells. Before arriving in Japan, the ocean apparently wanted to
remind us that crossing the Pacific is not easily accomplished. After weeks at
sea without visiting any countries outside of the United States, and having
experienced a Semester at Sea voyage before, I felt as if something was
missing. I don’t think I knew what was missing at the time, but as I left
immigration and walked into Yokohama, Japan, I found what was missing during
the Pacific crossing, which was the feeling of visiting a new country. I couldn’t read the signs, people didn’t speak
English, I didn’t know where I was going, and I couldn’t have been happier. We
eventually found our way to our AirBnB apartment in the Shibuya neighborhood of
Tokyo. We crossed Shibuya Crossing, one of the busiest intersections in the
world, on our way to a small ramen restaurant, Kiraku, popular with the locals,
which was unbelievably delicious and possibly one of the best meals I had. The
broth, noodles, pork, egg, bean sprouts, and gyoza were all fresh and full of
flavor. We then found a second-floor aerial view of Shibuya Crossing, watching
all the cars stop once all the lights turned red, clearing the intersection for
a brief moment before a flood of people cover the white crossing stripes
seconds later. In Harajuku, we slowly walked through the smell of crepes, the sight
of clothing stores, and the feel of a crowd of people strolling through the
narrow Takeshita street. Upon recommendation, we made our way to Golden Gai, where
narrow alleys with messy electrical lines reveal small two-floor shacks of old
Japanese architecture, with tiny bars. Without a recommendation, these alleys
might have looked like trouble. Albatross was a highlight, with only about five
bar stools, two tiny circular tables tucked in the corner, and chandeliers, a
disco ball, a deer head, and liquor bottles filling up the small space. Hungry
for dinner, we ate a delicious Japanese meal with a former UVA international
student from Japan, who fortunately did all the ordering for us. The next
morning I continued my love for Japanese convenience stores, konbinis, by
getting breakfast at the Family Mart. I navigated the subway system to meet up
at the Senso-ji shrine in Asakusa. Our senses were truly alive with the rituals
of cleansing water, burning incense, clapping hands, coin throwing offerings,
fortune stick shaking, and crowd gathering. After a tempura lunch on tatami
floors we went to the Tokyo Skytree. I will never forget the shock of arriving
on the 350<sup>th</sup> floor and looking down on Tokyo, a massive city which
looks like a futuristic CGI representation of some futuristic city. The scale
of the city is difficult to comprehend and I couldn’t stop staring out at the
360-degree view of city neighborhood after city neighborhood. As night fell and
the city started to light up, I didn’t want to leave, but we had to meet others
for dinner, where we grilled our own fish at the table. I can’t describe the
robot burlesque show that followed, other than to say that each skit began
eccentrically and nonsensically, only to escalate to greater eccentricity and
much less sense, like pandas riding cows fighting robots, which made the
Japanese girls playing drums on robots, the show opener, seem rather normal.
The show was especially fun because we brought around fourteen Semester at Sea
friends together for the show. We all gathered into a karaoke room after the
show, which made the evening a fully eccentric Tokyo night, ending around 3am.
The night definitely brought us closer together, as this was one of our first
nights out in a new country. The next day I ventured out alone, wandering
around the streets in Harajuku, stopping for coffee, including a stop at one of
the best coffee shops I have ever been to, a small home with a single counter
and a single barista making some of the best coffee I have ever tasted, so good
that I followed my cappuccino and baked custard with a macchiato and another
baked custard. Later I had conveyor belt sushi, where a nice Japanese woman
helped me understand what was going on. She even made my green tea for me from
the matcha powder. One of my favorite parts of traveling alone is the increased
wandering that you can create, which often leads to surprising interactions and
a greater awareness of your surroundings. The Meiji Shrine was my final visit before
grabbing some tonkatsu for the bullet ride to Kyoto. I absolutely fell in love
with Tokyo. The energy of the city is contagious and addictive. The variety of
neighborhoods makes exploring the city an unending adventure. The quality of
the food and the attention to detail is hard to leave behind. The eccentricity
is uniquely Tokyo. The shrines, parks, and open spaces give breathability to
Tokyo. As I looked out at the city from the Tokyo Skytree I thought about what
it would be like to live in Tokyo, choosing a neighborhood, finding endlessly
new places to eat, easily navigating the seemingly complex transportation
system, and falling in love with a new city. I thought about the feelings and
experiences travel evokes. Those feelings and experiences were missing in the
first few weeks of the voyage, and although they were worth waiting for as we built
the foundations of the shipboard community, the Spring 2015 Semester at Sea
voyage was beginning again in a new and exciting way, and I found what was missing. <span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06658126483119184405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436517570831282921.post-57749619495759749832015-01-14T20:00:00.000-05:002015-01-24T09:46:43.958-05:00Hilo, Hawaii<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeuJWF8s_4kpH0qfbE6u6tP7KA_SD_fmx59AzeXuZZMGG3KP8wwb-T8dGolDHj6O-eevDrv0PhyphenhyphenR5U9xvvcIWDOLMW4GagPXJZQH_fSEuWBBQYAHg-0gRAs2mrIEO6f0ootL_M0wQdZWXb/s1600/IMG_7125ps.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeuJWF8s_4kpH0qfbE6u6tP7KA_SD_fmx59AzeXuZZMGG3KP8wwb-T8dGolDHj6O-eevDrv0PhyphenhyphenR5U9xvvcIWDOLMW4GagPXJZQH_fSEuWBBQYAHg-0gRAs2mrIEO6f0ootL_M0wQdZWXb/s1600/IMG_7125ps.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
Had we not stopped in Hilo, Hawaii, we
would have spent 17 consecutive days at sea on the way to Japan. Our one-day
visit welcomingly offered a chance to step on land after 6 days at sea since Ensenada
and before 10 days at sea until Yokohama, Japan. I woke up at 6am to watch us
arrive in Hilo. After a week of no land in sight, the emergence of the volcanic
Big Island of Hawaii was an impressive sight. In the dark before the sunrise,
the lights of the island were the first signs of land, until they faded and the
ridges of the mountains and the outlines of the shoreline emerged in the early
dawn sky, followed by the appearance of the island’s colors once the sun rose
and colored in the green trees, black and solidified lava, and glowing red
windows reflecting the rising sun. Arriving by ship offers an expansive view
that slowly changes and narrows, offering more details as we move closer to the
port. The world suddenly comes to life. Whales emerged from the water all
around the ship, volcanoes looked down on the land they created, paddle boarders
watched us arrive, the pilot jumped off his pilot boat onto our ship, and the
sun continued to rise. I witnessed our arrival from the 7<sup>th</sup> deck, talking to Evan, one of the students I am happy is on
the ship. We also talked to a couple students who currently live in Hawaii and
were able to offer information about the island as we arrived. Many of the students
surprise me with their maturity, curiosity, and sense of adventure. I often
feel renewed after talking to a student. I don’t think the Semester at Sea
experience has become routine to me in any way, but I definitely have a comfort
and familiarity with the program, and talking to a student reminds me of the
newness and adventure of the voyage. With limited time in Hilo I decided to
join a Semester at Sea field program to make the best use of the time, and get
some much needed exercise. The field programs are also a good way to meet students, and I enjoyed talking with Andrea, Ramin, and Tirso during the day. We went on a bicycle trip through Volcanoes National
Park, which was a great decision. Riding a bike while you pass by lava flows,
steam vents, volcanic gas, and craters is a pretty scenic location for a bike ride.
As a result of the sulfur levels and still air we unfortunately had to delay
the start of the bike ride and travel in the van, but this ultimately worked in
our favor because we were able to see more of the park by the end of the day.
We started at the Kilauea summit, around Crater Rim Drive, to Thurston Lava
Tube where we walked through the rainforest. We had a delicious lunch with
fresh papayas and pineapple alongside one of the many craters, and then jumped
on our bikes. We rode our bikes to the Keanakakoi Crater where we walked on the
hardened lava and looked at Pele’s Hair, a volcanic glass fiber formed by the
molten lava, which looks like the Goddess Pele’s hair but is sharp enough to
scrape your fingers, which happened to me since I played with it like it was her
hair, which it is not. The landscape is powerful and alive. Our guide was enthusiastic
and clearly wanted to share his love of Hawaii with us, which helped me learn
more about the island, including the formation of Hawaii, types of lava flows, risk
of eruptions, rain climate, low cost of real estate, natural medicines, ethnic
diversity, wildlife, birds, agriculture, industries, and movement for sovereignty.
I wish we had more time in Hawaii, especially for some of the hiking around the
park. Hawaii is an interesting state with a culture obviously far different
from the other states, a culture and history that offered a fitting bridge between
our travels from California to Japan. The next day we stopped in Honolulu to refuel,
but unfortunately we had to view Honolulu from the ship, as classes resumed while
we were in port for the refueling. Honolulu drifted from our view later that
night, as we began the next stretch at sea, 10 days to Japan. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06658126483119184405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436517570831282921.post-62752794413253025552015-01-12T07:50:00.000-05:002015-01-20T07:59:55.443-05:00Embarkation <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizmLFIFVEkHSePtI0u-SpTI9Y3VtWQr8TI3MYwV648rpZCgfGwe8AID88NDRHaS8k3Ld1b_5vwl45gMEcKAvUGIagmk5uTYJoInefy5Dm0KDausZ-fdezRWdEsxHj0O7yDmN8jnUxswq9V/s1600/IMG_7063ps.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizmLFIFVEkHSePtI0u-SpTI9Y3VtWQr8TI3MYwV648rpZCgfGwe8AID88NDRHaS8k3Ld1b_5vwl45gMEcKAvUGIagmk5uTYJoInefy5Dm0KDausZ-fdezRWdEsxHj0O7yDmN8jnUxswq9V/s1600/IMG_7063ps.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
I was somewhat
emotionally exhausted as the voyage began, which was not ideal, but I was grateful more than any other emotion. I traveled from Virginia to Connecticut
to San Diego to the MV Explorer, as if I was on a tour of my life, allowing me
to reflect upon all that has led me to this present moment, my second voyage
around the world with Semester at Sea. The transition to the Spring 2015 voyage
was especially full-circle, as I spent a few hours of the first night on the MV
Explorer with some of my friends from the Fall 2012 voyage. In a way I was able
to connect the two voyages. I was not leaving Fall 2012 behind, but I was carrying the
experience with me as I join the Spring 2015 shipboard community. My Fall 2012 friends' excitement for me, and their jealousy, helped me move from reflection to a
readiness for a new experience, one in which many people would trade places
with me in a second. The Spring 2015 voyage will be the last Semester at Sea
voyage on the MV Explorer, a ship that has been home to tens of thousands of
students, faculty, staff, dependents, lifelong learners, and crew members. To
travel on any Semester at Sea voyage is unique enough, but to travel on the
final voyage of the MV Explorer is an opportunity every single one of those
tens of thousands of people would drop everything to have. How blessed and
grateful I am to be here. Slowing down and being present did not come easy. The
first few days were a blur of activity, exhausting in a different way, with orientation
meetings and preparations. After leaving San Diego and sailing to Ensenada, the
students boarded and the excitement truly began. The students bring a welcome energy
to the ship and a way to see the experience through new eyes. I remember standing
on the observation deck after the sun had set and most of the observers left.
Above the horizon, a darker orange than the sunset had offered began to glow,
lighting up the sky in a subtle shade of purple. The ocean offered an expansive
view of nothing but water, with no land in sight, and a different dimension of
seeing as we floated above the ocean with grace. Two students came up from
behind me and immediately let out shrieks of wonder and awe at what they were
seeing, as they had not yet been to the observation deck for a sunset. How
unique and rewarding to be a part of the meaningful and eye-opening experiences
these students will continuously have. How unique and rewarding to feel the same as them. I
often don’t have words to describe what I am experiencing. I’m shrieking in
wonder and awe as much as they are. We are indeed lucky little bunnies to have
the opportunity to visit 12 countries and 15 cities and broaden our perspective
and understanding of the world, while living on a ship and sharing the
experience with each other. I’m starting to feel comfortable back at sea. When
I stare out at the ocean from a ship in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, with
no land in sight, I feel like my soul is reconnecting with a part of itself it
has sorely missed. Living on the ocean for four months during a Semester at Sea
voyage is difficult to explain. This is not a cruise, in any way. Describing
the experience as a voyage is not simply a marketing technique. We become a
community and the ship becomes a home. We view the ever-changing ocean away
from the comfort of land. We explore places we have never been to before. We are
on a journey. I’m happy to be home at sea on the MV Explorer. I also miss my family and friends and my
many homes through the years, all of which I visited in a matter of days, but
right now, I’m here. I’m home. <o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06658126483119184405noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436517570831282921.post-63553524732048677992015-01-03T01:37:00.000-05:002015-01-03T01:37:00.122-05:00Spring 2015 Semester at Sea Voyage <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRYk75RxTYm0Ct8TRr_IXxuEZTsWEqToCqCEFbZ1SNctzlDwxn0MJkosEr0uDzhYYt4QByk0SQF0Qrh7pommWiqC61jiEeK03DiCc22V-bIIXwFXaZkzjfD1w1c7bHA6XKrT6s0agKvHxG/s1600/Ocean.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRYk75RxTYm0Ct8TRr_IXxuEZTsWEqToCqCEFbZ1SNctzlDwxn0MJkosEr0uDzhYYt4QByk0SQF0Qrh7pommWiqC61jiEeK03DiCc22V-bIIXwFXaZkzjfD1w1c7bHA6XKrT6s0agKvHxG/s1600/Ocean.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In a few days I will
embark on the <a href="http://www.semesteratsea.org/voyages/spring-2015/">Spring 2015 Semester at Sea voyage</a>. Of course I am excited. Of
course I am grateful. Of course I have been impatiently waiting for the voyage
to begin. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that I’m not calm. I’m quite the
opposite. I’m a mix of nerves, anticipation, joy, and anxiety, and I’m
reflective and nostalgic about all that I’m leaving behind. You wouldn’t think
I would be nervous. Since August of 2012 I have traveled to Canada, Ireland,
England, Belgium, Netherlands, Portugal, Spain, Canary Islands, Ghana, South
Africa, Argentina, Uruguay, Brazil, Dominica, Vietnam, Guatemala, Sweden, Denmark,
Scotland, Iceland, and Northern Ireland. I’m familiar with the Semester at Sea
program and I’ve thought about the transformative benefits of international
education ever since the Fall 2012 voyage. Yet my emotions are heightened, I’m
nervous, reflective, and even a bit sad. I somewhat understand the cycle of my
emotions. I know in four months I will be in tears because I don’t want the
voyage to end. Yet right now, I’m on the verge of tears as I think about the
life I am leaving behind for four months. Stepping out of your comfort zone is
not easy, and the uncomfortable feeling of being pulled away from your safety
net, facing the unknown, and taking a risk, is probably why many people avoid
stepping out of their comfort zones. Although in four months I might question them,
right now, I understand and empathize. I’m living on a ship for four months, not
knowing anyone on the ship, and traveling across the Pacific Ocean to 15 cities
and 12 countries, mostly countries I have never traveled to before. Of course
this is exciting, of course I am crazy fortunate, and of course this will be a
highlight of my life, yet I feel pulled away from the safety of family and a
routine. Stepping out of my comfort zone doesn’t come naturally to me. Some
people might think I’ve become an adventurous world traveler, but this is not
my natural state. I enjoy routines as much as anyone else, but I also live in a
state of wanderlust, which is a confusing and emotional dichotomy. When I’m in
a routine, I want to shake things up and experience something new. I know life
is short and the world is big. I have a curiosity about other cultures and I
feel truly alive when traveling. However, when I act upon that risk, at first I am
uncomfortable and sad about what I’m leaving behind, but when I experience
something new I am renewed and grateful, feeling silly for the prior
hesitations. This is the cycle of stepping out of your comfort zone; it’s
always uncomfortable at first, filled with hesitations, but is always rewarding and fulfilling, filled with the thrilling joy of discovery, allowing you to experience life in a way you never have before,
opening up your eyes, your mind, your heart, and your soul, and changing and
enhancing your life forever. I know this. I remember when I traveled to Vietnam
I was full of hesitations at the airport. I felt overwhelmed and nervous. I was
arriving in Vietnam on my own, having never been to Asia before. I was standing
on a cliff looking down at the water, afraid to jump in, like a child afraid to
go down a slide, and like the thrill of having let go, experiencing life, ready
to go back up and do it again, so was I after a couple days in Vietnam. I
learned phrases and was able to talk to locals. I was crossing the street,
dodging motorbikes and cars, with a confidence as if I lived there. I was in
tears at not wanting to leave after two weeks. I came home and immediately bought a Vespa. How opposite the emotions can be
when you step out of your comfort zone, from hesitation to commitment, from
fear to courage, from sadness to joy. Right now I am nervous and hesitant, sad
to leave everyone behind as I think about all the love, support, and
encouragement I have received. Right now I am in the comfort of home. However,
I know how important stepping out of your comfort zone truly is, in order to
take risks, to experience something new, to embrace other cultures and other
people, to learn and grow, to live this short and fragile life as a gift and
have a sense of wonder and awe at the beauty in this world, to be a part of a
shipboard community where hundreds of people experience a meaningful highlight of their
lives, growing close in a way few experiences allow. In a few days I will have
no choice but to summon the courage to lose sight of the shore, because I am
ready to cross the ocean. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06658126483119184405noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436517570831282921.post-36920547275708094922012-12-31T23:24:00.000-05:002018-12-27T00:02:10.595-05:00Fall 2012 Documentary<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjffgdhcqbD6mU4-ywJQznHHGbSdKJeIIWFggJ_xdKDusk3vCLlPKqp-4Hv5XFKR_xHk0YI5XPK11AGxZ4sdTWcGw-z04xRpMPE2ItCdHYxb6SgGk1lRgp9Plgxv3I46DwEs0a7Etw11Qil/s1600/MVexplorerF12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjffgdhcqbD6mU4-ywJQznHHGbSdKJeIIWFggJ_xdKDusk3vCLlPKqp-4Hv5XFKR_xHk0YI5XPK11AGxZ4sdTWcGw-z04xRpMPE2ItCdHYxb6SgGk1lRgp9Plgxv3I46DwEs0a7Etw11Qil/s1600/MVexplorerF12.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
I am happy to share the travel documentary I made, <a href="https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B-XUb1DXnJjsYXF0NmsycEVNajg/view?usp=sharing">Across the Ocean</a>, about the Fall 2012 Semester at Sea voyage. I had a lot of fun editing this video, as beautiful memories of the voyage quickly returned. To look back on many of the experiences is undoubtedly a gift. With gratitude, Jonathan
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06658126483119184405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436517570831282921.post-53442723610044518562012-12-02T21:54:00.000-05:002014-12-15T22:23:23.698-05:00Roseau, Dominica <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMUkGT5SFSwYEGkDicDnFZ6VWneVVeI4kSShcM-ayxjvAtMzUQ52EjZHqSu-NanB9UueT70Rkwkg6AclQ8HE2y2leUDU59O0Ru3GGMHaSFq74I2zWMe6otvdSvrQXivk2n-yyKcN-xVpsA/s1600/63197_10151181934186732_1289817284_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMUkGT5SFSwYEGkDicDnFZ6VWneVVeI4kSShcM-ayxjvAtMzUQ52EjZHqSu-NanB9UueT70Rkwkg6AclQ8HE2y2leUDU59O0Ru3GGMHaSFq74I2zWMe6otvdSvrQXivk2n-yyKcN-xVpsA/s1600/63197_10151181934186732_1289817284_n.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
I realize I never wrote an entry about our time in Roseau, Dominica, the last port of the Fall 2012 voyage, most likely because I didn't know what to say, and I still don't. I'll never forget Dominica, for both good and bad reasons. I won't try to capture the emotion of this port, because I can't, but what I will always remember, good and bad, deserves a place with the reflections of the other countries we called home during the previous four months, even if the reflection is brief and unrepresentative of what we all felt. Somehow our voyage was coming to an end. Only four months ago I had never been to Canada, Ireland, England, Belgium, Netherlands, Portugal, Spain, Canary Islands, Ghana, South Africa, Argentina, Uruguay, Brazil, or Dominica. The entirety of the voyage was coming into view, a view both tremendously joyful and bitterly sad. The MV Explorer was our new home, our jobs on the ship had become our new work life, and our friends on the ship became our new community. The seemingly endless new experiences became our new way of living, and Semester at Sea had become our daily life. Somewhere along the way, the voyage was no longer a temporary journey, but a home. In some ways, this would remain true, as we now saw the world and ourselves in a different way, and our thoughts, beliefs, and actions were forever changed. New experiences, embracing other cultures, and an opened mind were in fact a new way of living. Yet, the voyage was about to end. With two days in Dominica, we spent the first morning in town, wandering the streets of Roseau, followed by hiring a driver with the most colorful and flashy open-air van in town, complete with a squeaky horn. We spent the afternoon on the beach, happy to be with each other, aware that our adventures in new ports were coming to an end, yet still present in the moment, admiring the warm sun and clear waters. Our drive back from the beach was stunning, with some of the warmest glows from the sun I've ever seen, causing every color, the pink and blues of the houses and the greens of the leaves, to brightly glow as the sun faded. Our driver rushed to the top of a hill where we looked down upon our floating home, the MV Explorer, a ship that had taken us all over the world, resting alongside the city of Roseau, as the sun faded and the city turned to night. We returned to the ship to hear sad and tragic news. We will always remember the beach in Dominica, as one of the students, Casey Schulman, lost her life there, not far from where we were in the water earlier in the day. Looking back, I think we were in denial the rest of the day, convincing ourselves that she was okay, despite what we saw on the beach. I'll never forget how silent and sorrowful the ship was that night. After four months of liveliness, with classes, travel stories, meals, music, dancing, seminars, lectures, travel plans, student organization events, happy hours, and new friendships, the ship was completely silent. Everyone will forever remember Casey, of course for who she was, but also for the reminder that life is a fragile gift to never take for granted. The next day is a bit of a blur, but we managed to enjoy a day of guided snorkeling in one of the best snorkeling and scuba diving locations in the world. Leaving Dominica was not easy, knowing we were headed back to the United States with one less student. All of our hearts were hurting as we pulled away from the port and headed home. What would have been more of a celebration became a deeper reflection on the fragility of life, with gratitude for what we had experienced over the past four months. Also, we were not individuals, but a shipboard community, deeply connected, where every life is a gift. Our Fall 2012 Semester at Sea voyage was truly a gift. We all felt truly alive during every moment of a new cultural experience, and grew close with one another in a way that few experiences allow. The unique bond that occurs during a study abroad program is a powerful force. I don't know how to end my travel reflections from the Fall 2012 Semester at Sea voyage, for the same reason tears fell from so many eyes at the end of the voyage. We never wanted it to end. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06658126483119184405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436517570831282921.post-74558474124073500712012-11-24T19:35:00.000-05:002014-12-15T22:22:39.570-05:00Manaus, Brazil <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7eKiDVQiE-aDTxdUbkGNIezxkFvXeTliKvrBdPlguEQSp7owxKSET4u1NfAwchLf9OAroE31VZd1GsxT4Hw_dCxS1JZTeEQsmssE9OjYQ_Kn-r-Mri804LVeYuvfGeKzGL5RWE4LXyCWq/s1600/184460_10151178577551732_660883786_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7eKiDVQiE-aDTxdUbkGNIezxkFvXeTliKvrBdPlguEQSp7owxKSET4u1NfAwchLf9OAroE31VZd1GsxT4Hw_dCxS1JZTeEQsmssE9OjYQ_Kn-r-Mri804LVeYuvfGeKzGL5RWE4LXyCWq/s1600/184460_10151178577551732_660883786_n.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
Manaus, Brazil is in the middle of the Amazon rainforest. Manaus was truly a unique port because we spent two days sailing on the Amazon River after entering the mouth of the river in Macapa. After several months on the Atlantic Ocean, traveling deep into the Amazon rainforest on the famous Amazon river was a distinct change of pace, and noticeably different, with brown water, the smell of burning and smoke in the air, and a closed food deck as a result of the plentiful and large bugs. Sometimes immensely wide, other times narrow enough for us to wave at the local village tribes on the banks of the river, the landscape continually changed as we wound through the river, with seemingly endless channels and mazes deeper into the rainforest. Upon arriving in Manaus, I boarded a small riverboat for a 2 night, 3 day, relatively rugged riverboat adventure deeper into the Amazon rainforest, which turned out to be a definite highlight of the entire voyage. After recently coming from South Africa, Patagonia, and Rio de Janeiro, every day seems like a highlight, but the remoteness of Manaus, the isolation of the Amazon Rainforest, the interaction with indigenous Brazilians, and sleeping in hammocks on a riverboat, certainly made the rare experience a highlight. The days and nights quickly passed with endlessly new adventures. We traveled to the Meeting of the Waters, where the black-colored water of the Rio Negro and the brown, sand-colored water of the Rio Solimoes run side-by-side, but don't mix. We sailed under the Manaus-Iranduba Bridge. We learned more about Amazonian culture from our funny, interactive, and experienced guides, as well as the village where we stopped to witness daily life. Our guides made the experience educational, interactive, and fun, welcoming us into the communities we visited. We saw giant water lilies. I held a small sloth in my arms, which is possibly the cutest and wildest looking animal I've ever seen. Our cooks on the riverboat set up the first of many delicious buffet-style arrangements of fresh fish, rice, and plantains. Our guides hung hammocks inside the boat, where we spent the first night listening to the sounds of the Amazon as we fell asleep, or at least tried to fall asleep given the fact that hammocks are more suited for naps than a good night's sleep. The next morning we went on a ridiculously hot hike through the jungle. (Even our guides admitted the heat and humidity was a little higher than usual.) Despite sweating more than I've probably ever sweated in my life, which is saying a lot since it doesn't take much for me to start sweating, I was fully in the moment, as I felt all my senses alive during the hike, with the sounds, smells, and feel of the hot Amazon jungle. Our guides passed along survival tips while explaining the culture and life in the Amazon rainforest. We cooled off with a swim where our riverboat was docked, and then traveled to the Acajatuba village, where we played soccer with kids from the local community. I'm pretty sure they went easy on us, as they moved around the field and passed and kicked with ease, clearly able to dominate us if they didn't hold back. Their welcoming nature and the joy they all had was definitely memorable. After the game we had a couple drinks at their local bar, and watched the sun start to set over the village. We were visiting in the dry season, and the church, market, and homes exposed the stilts built to keep the buildings above the flooding waters during the rainy season. Being there in the dry season made it difficult to comprehend how much water floods into the villages. The canoes at the base of the homes were signs of how walking where we stood would not be possible in several months. The evening canoe ride in search of caimans, an alligator species, was beautiful, as we slowly started to become immersed in the jungle at night. Although we didn't catch a caiman, the ride was absolutely scenic, and I'll always remember the loud chorus of frogs. We ended the night with a barbecue on a beach, and then went fishing for piranhas in the morning. I'm deeply grateful to have had the opportunity to experience life in the Amazon rainforest. I was humbled to realize that while back home in the United States I live with an abundance of probably unnecessary amenities, these Amazonian communities are living their daily life in a completely remote area, with very little, in a rugged and unforgiving environment, and doing so with fulfillment and joy. I'll forever look at a map, see the Amazon rainforest, and think of those communities, and feel a sense of wonder and awe that for several nights and days, I was there, sleeping in a hammock to the sound of the rainforest, learning more about the economy, life, culture, and community of the Amazon rainforest. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06658126483119184405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436517570831282921.post-35120404026464994532012-11-13T16:33:00.000-05:002014-12-15T22:21:18.556-05:00Rio de Janeiro, Brazil<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3dspA6ZqDYr6MXb2TbL2iXSRp4ezlA44cGc8Kh-ZmjkdMGbPYBHV_3vHvXKh0xTp03DPciyZdNcy38omHUR6y0m-_ut_Yn8ly8Nj8cRETUe8TMAcI_-xjAt4mh8bFbydrk51mSGBGD1iz/s1600/466228_10151128570730216_1037132187_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3dspA6ZqDYr6MXb2TbL2iXSRp4ezlA44cGc8Kh-ZmjkdMGbPYBHV_3vHvXKh0xTp03DPciyZdNcy38omHUR6y0m-_ut_Yn8ly8Nj8cRETUe8TMAcI_-xjAt4mh8bFbydrk51mSGBGD1iz/s320/466228_10151128570730216_1037132187_o.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
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Everyone was excited to arrive in Rio de Janeiro. One of the
greatest aspects of Semester at Sea was our method of traveling. No bags to
carry through an airport and no need to keep our eyes on the road, but instead
we continually arrived in one new country after the other, with a slow approach
on a ship, allowing us to stand outside on the deck and see each city in the
context of its surroundings. Despite a cloudy morning, arriving in Rio was as
exciting and beautiful as we all hoped it might be. We passed by the crowded
favelas on the hills, the beaches of Ipanema and Copacabana, and Sugarloaf
Mountain before arriving in port. Although we occasionally had to wait in line
to pick up our passports and have a face-to-face encounter with a customs
agent, as we did in Rio, I always appreciated the ease of traveling on the ship
and simply swiping our shipboard ID to immediately head out and explore a new
country. One of the smartest decisions I made before leaving the United States was
to bring currency from every country. The ATM at the port was overrun with
Semester at Sea students, faculty, and staff waiting in line and the ATMs
outside the port didn’t like Brett and Kai’s Visa debit cards. The Brazilian
Real I brought was enough to get us a cab to Sugarloaf Mountain, allowing us to
beat the crowds and not wait in line. Brett, Kai, and I took the cable car to Morro
da Urca, the first mountain, and after walking around amazed at the view and
geography of Rio we took the cable car to the summit, Pão de Açúcar, where the
view only became more stunning. The scattered mountains and hills that surround
the beaches, neighborhoods, and lagoons of Rio create an otherworldly panorama
that is hard to turn your eyes away from. Even as we got back on the cable car
to take the scenic ride back down, I wanted to remain on the mountain with my
imagination running wild about the world and life that was below us. After
going to the beach and having lunch in Ipanema, we went to the Hippie Market,
where we ran into numerous Semester at Sea friends (also known as SASers) and I
had an indulgently delicious acai smoothie with guarana from a local juice bar
on the street. In every country we would run into friends from the ship, which
created a fun illusion, as if we actually lived in Brazil and were simply
running into friends at the market. I then joined Henri and Jake for a walk
around Ipanema, where I switched from acai to a mango juice drink, which was
equally good. The juice bars in Rio are fabulous, and they perfectly satisfied
my sweet tooth because I could feel healthy indulging in them. Our walk along
the beach during sunset was one of my favorite walks of the voyage. The sun was
setting behind the mountains and the street was closed to traffic, allowing
everyone to walk, run, bike, and skateboard in the street. With most people
walking, the street looked a lot like zombies from The Walking Dead overtaking
Ipanema. We watched locals on the beach, some skilled and some beginners,
balancing and jumping on slacklines tied to the palm trees and silhouetted by
the setting sun behind them. Later we went to dinner at a local hangout and sat
outside, with Henri working his magic and ordering us a delicious array of food
to share. On our walk through the streets after dinner, the favelas on the hill
were magically lit up with a condensed constellation of lights twinkling amidst
the dark night. We walked over to a local music venue to see a Bossa Nova show
in Ipanema, where a large Semester at Sea group had gathered for the show.
After a long day of walking, sitting down and listening to live music was a
comforting ending to the night. The next day Henri, Jake, and I gathered again
for coffee and breakfast at a local confeitaria. We joined Jessa, Claire, Kim,
and Patrick for yet more acai drinks, and then we all walked along Ipanema
towards Copacabana. Afterwards we all took cabs to the culturally rich, lively,
and artistic neighborhoods of Santa Teresa and Lapa, where we spent time
walking around the Escadaria Selarón, the famous tiled steps created by the
late Jorge Selarón, who recently and allegedly killed himself by setting
himself on fire on the steps. Jorge Selarón was at the steps in Rio the same
day, but unfortunately not during the couple of hours we were there and had
lunch nearby at a local restaurant by the steps. Afterwards we went to
Corcovado and took the train to the peak, where the Christ the Redeemer statue overlooks
the city of Rio. For the longest time I have seen photos and videos of the
statue, and to actually be there was hard to believe. I never ceased to be
grateful and filled with wonder and awe that I was going from one famous
landmark to the next. This day was just another day of the voyage, which
happened to be at one of the most famous peaks and statues in the entire world.
The size of the statue (125 ft.) on top of a peak (2329 ft.) is breathtaking,
and the view of Rio is equally stunning, with scattered hills and mountains,
some with favelas, rising above the neighborhoods and beaches. We arrived with
enough time to marvel at the view, as the clouds soon took over the peak,
hiding the view below and drastically lowering the temperature. Our busy day
led us nicely to perhaps the most food all of us ever ate at one sitting, at Porcão,
a Brazilian steakhouse, where meat arrived at our table within a few seconds of
sitting down. Our servers rotated around the table, cutting us endless pieces
of meat, as we all laughed and stuffed ourselves silly. We took time lapse
videos of a true feast, which was a nice moment, a group of friends together
sharing a meal, talking, laughing, and feeling full after a full day of
exploring Rio together. Jake, Henri, Patrick, Kim, Claire, Jessa, and I were
all together at that moment in time, in the amazing city of Rio de Janeiro, and
my heart felt full as well. The next day was unfortunately an endless downpour
of rain, but I suppose I was in the right place. Patrick, Jacques, Emily,
Kierra, Keith, Claire, and I were all on a trip to the Tijuca Forest, the world’s
largest urban rainforest. The experience was certainly complete with us hiking
in the rain. Fortunately we spent our days on the beaches and streets of Rio
during the first 2 days of sunshine, but despite the rain on the 3<sup>rd</sup>
day, we enjoyed seeing another side of Rio. Also, our hike through Tijuca
Forest served as an appropriate transition to our next port, Manaus, Brazil, a
city deep in the state of Amazonas. Rio was certainly a highlight of the voyage.
A unique feeling I had whenever we left a city or country, was a sense of bittersweet
sadness at leaving a place that started to feel like home. Even in a short
amount of time I would grow somewhat attached to every country, the people, the
culture, and the lifestyle. As the ship’s horn blew (miraculously not causing
me to drop my iPhone in the sea as I stood on the edge of the deck and filmed
us sail away) and the land began to fade away in the distance, I was missing a
place I could suddenly call home, which was how I felt leaving almost every
country; however, I was always looking forward to our next destination, which
at the time was an unfamiliar and unknown place, but after a few days of
exploring the unknown, suddenly the country, people, culture, and lifestyle
would become familiar, and I’d most likely find yet another place I could call
home, which once again happened in Rio de Janeiro. </div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06658126483119184405noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436517570831282921.post-459200533011820492012-11-08T23:48:00.000-05:002014-12-15T22:22:06.215-05:00Buenos Aires, Argentina and Montevideo, Uruguay<br />
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Before boarding the ship I purchased in advance the Semester
at Sea trip to El Calafate and Chalten in Patagonia, Argentina. As we approached
South America I was a little hesitant about the trip, only because I would miss
most of the time in Buenos Aires and Montevideo; the Patagonia trip was 4
nights and 5 days long, departing in Buenos Aires and rejoining the ship on a
flight to Montevideo the night before leaving for Brazil. Also, none of my
friends signed up for this trip and I didn’t know any of the students. My
hesitations, as minor as they were, ended up being completely ridiculous; the
Patagonia trip was a definite highlight of the voyage and one of the best trips
I have ever been on in my life. I don’t really know what to say to capture
Patagonia. I most likely can’t find the words to describe the surreal
landscape. I already looked at my pictures and video, and although they give a
good sense of what we saw, they don’t capture the feeling of standing there in
person. I’ll won’t attempt to use superfluous words to describe a landscape
that is somewhat indescribable, but I’ll first begin by saying that I fortunately
got to see many parts of Buenos Aires on my one and only day in the city. I
went on a city orientation Semester at Sea trip that drove through and stopped
in different neighborhoods, including the Plaza de Mayo, La Boca, Puerto
Madero, Palermo, and Recoleta, where we visited a variety of buildings,
streets, and sights, such as La Casa Rosada, the pink government building in
Plaza de Mayo, the colorful houses and tango artists on Caminito in La Boca, the
streets and architecture of Puerto Madero and Palermo, and Evita’s grave in the
Recoleta Cemetery. At night, a large group of us went out in Palermo for dinner
and drinks. Don, Erika, Jake, Brett, Henri, Claire, Jessa, Kai, Kim, Holly,
Patrick, and I went to a cool little bar while we waited for our tables at a
popular local restaurant which ultimately lived up to its reputation, as they
filled our table with Argentinian meats, sides, and dipping sauces in an
impressive array of deliciousness. I had a lot of fun and really enjoyed the
company of good friends. Soon after I joined our Patagonia trip in the Union at
3am for our early morning flight to El Calafate. What followed was a trip I
will remember for the rest of my life. Our flight connected in Ushuaia, which
is considered to be the southernmost city in the world, by Tierra del Fuego, where
we flew over the massive snow-covered Andes Mountains, descending directly over
the peaks, close enough to feel as if we might crash into the Andes. Upon arriving
in El Calafate, our first stop was the Perito Moreno Glacier, a landmark that
is often the picture used to represent Patagonia, and for good reasons. You
look directly down on the massive glacier as it extends beyond the horizon and you
can also walk further down to stand almost directly in front of the glacier.
The contrast against the mountains on each side as well as the point where the
glacier ends and the lake begins, creates a surreal landscape. The sound of
huge pieces of ice falling off the glacier echoed through the silence of the area.
Our evenings in town were also surprisingly fun. El Calafate is a charming
small town, with great food, and I had a fun dinner with some students,
followed by calafate ice cream and chocolate. Calafate is a local shrub grown
for its fruit, with a unique taste that worked perfectly in ice cream and
chocolate. The next day was the highlight of the trip for me and for many of
the students as well. We started our morning in a small boat on a 3-hour ride
through the Argentino Lake, passing through icebergs in what was without a
doubt the best boat ride I’ve ever been on. The icebergs looked like CGI as we
slowly passed by them and maneuvered in between them. We were all in wonder and
awe at the glassy and still water and the various shades of blue in each
iceberg, enhanced by the gray skies that actually brought out more color
through the reflections on the icebergs. This would have been enough fun on its
own, but from there we arrived at the Estancia Cristina, where we had lunch on
the ranch before taking 4x4s up the mountain. The ride up the mountain became
more interesting with every turn, as we ascended to a stunning view of the
Andes Mountains. Once we arrived at the point where glacial erosion had
occurred and we had to hike, we walked along the glacial rock, a surface that
appears to belong on another planet. The hike led us to quite possibly the best
viewpoint I have ever stood upon, as we looked at 3 different glaciers wedged
between the Andes Mountains, most notably the Upsala Glacier. The small lake
was a glowing shade of bluish-green that I had never seen before. Although the
wind was incredibly powerful, making it difficult to talk into the wind, nobody
wanted to leave. We were in an incredibly remote part of the world, where few
people have probably stood, and I was in wonder and awe at my place in the
world at that moment. On the way back to El Calafate, I had fun talking to our
guides, who offered their thoughts on living on the ranch and exploring
Patagonia, while sharing mate with me. Upon returning to town, all 16 of us had
dinner together at one table, like a big Thanksgiving dinner. The next day we
took a short boat ride to the Viedma Glacier, where we went ice climbing and
ice trekking. To be honest, when I was guided along a thin ledge of snow to
climb the ice with a crevasse below me, even though I had 2 ice picks in my
hand, crampons on my boots, and a climbing rope, I was slightly hesitant upon
looking up at the steep glacial ice in front of me; however, ascending was
actually easier than going back down. Despite trusting the guide with the rope,
repelling down is not easy without the proper posture and somewhat blind
footwork to allow for a quicker descent. Ice climbing was definitely a rush and
I wish I had more time to climb again. Afterwards we walked along the glacier,
which provided stunning views of the expansive glacier. Looking ahead of me and
seeing our group walking on top of the glacier, with crevasses everywhere in
sight, appeared as if we were somewhere exceptionally difficult to reach, and
in fact, we were. The glacial ice of Patagonia is a remote location seen by few
people, and as we finished the day by having chilled Baileys with snow as our
ice, served happily by our guides, we all marveled at the multitude of sights
we were seeing. For the evening we moved on to our next location in Chalten, a
much smaller town where we had dinner in a small charming log cabin with a
fireplace. The next day we braved the Laguna de los Tres hike despite
potentially bad weather. The first part of the hike was clear, as we walked
through the forest with mountains and glaciers appearing on our side, but upon
beginning the more challenging elevation gain, the weather turned bad. Most of
us decided to hike anyway, through the rain which caused the rocky ascent to
sound like and appear to be a koi pond waterfall. As we continued to ascend
towards Mt. Fitz Roy and Cerro Torres the rain soon became snow, and our
footing was on progressively deeper snow-covered ground. Although the
viewpoints were diminished once we started to hike in a blizzard of snow, and
Mt. Fitz Roy and Cerro Torres were not clearly seen, the thrill and adventure
was clear, as we reached the summit with wind taking away our breath and snow
falling in our faces. The hike was by no means over. Once we came back down
towards the base camp, we hiked in a different direction back to the town of El
Chalten. The hike provided us a great opportunity to talk to each other and at
times hike silently, reflecting on the adventures of the past several days. The
guides were fun to talk to. Talking to the locals in every country is always a highlight,
helping our time in port feel more like an immersion in the country and feel much less touristy. The hike was
a total of 28 kilometers, taking up the entire day and definitely wearing us
down. The next day was clear and on our way out of El Chalten we were able to
stop at a viewpoint that offered us a beautiful view of Mt. Fitz Roy and Cerro
Torres. We also stopped at La Leona, the historic hotel where Butch Cassidy and
the Sundance Kid hid away when they were on the run after robbing a bank. Our flight
to Montevideo from Buenos Aires was delayed and it was a long day and night getting
back to the ship, but all of us were grateful for every adventure in Patagonia.
We all felt as if we shared a unique experience and visited some of the most
beautiful sights in the world. Our closeness was evident, especially the next
day when we all got together to make the most out of our one day in Montevideo.
We walked around the new and old parts of the city until ship time at 1800
hours. I returned to the ship with various pastries that provided decadent
snacks in my cabin on the voyage to our next port of Rio de Janeiro. Reflecting
upon the trip to Patagonia helped me realize the importance of trying new
experiences, going to places few have gone before, and having a curiosity and gratitude
for the peacefulness and beauty of the world in which we live. Travel, explore,
don’t hesitate, and see what’s out there, for this world is truly not to be
missed! </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06658126483119184405noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436517570831282921.post-40991769938067355832012-11-02T21:41:00.000-04:002014-12-15T22:20:32.258-05:00South Atlantic Crossing<br />
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The 10-day crossing from Cape Town, South Africa, to Buenos
Aires, Argentina was a unique experience. Apparently very little travel or
trade takes place in this route across the South Atlantic. We saw nothing, no
ships, no land, no boats, no planes, and hardly any sign of life. A few
albatrosses were following us for several days, giving an even more eerie
feeling to how alone we were in the world. I didn't feel isolated, but instead
felt deeply connected to the ocean. The water and skies looked different every
day, depending on the clouds, the light and the time of day, the depth, the
swells, and various factors that paint a different picture for us. The crossing
was peaceful and fun. I don’t know another time I will ever be removed from
society for such an extended period of time, especially with the uniqueness of
being in the middle of nowhere, yet surrounded by a shipboard community sharing
the experience. I've grown to love the days at sea. I am going to miss having
the Atlantic Ocean as my front and back yards. Numerous magical moments seem to
occur, like looking out a cabin window and seeing the moonlight illuminate the
black sea in the middle of the night suddenly remembering that I’m going to bed
in the middle of the ocean, someone yelling “whale!” as a rush of people move
towards the edge of the deck, sitting outside in the sun and being surrounded by
the ocean on all sides, looking at flying fish gliding over the water before
diving back in, dolphins who seem happy to see us as they swim along with us,
watching the sun set along the horizon every day, always different from the
previous one always hoping for a green flash, having breakfast, lunch, and
dinner every day with great friends and an ocean view, or staring out at the
night sky, getting lost in the blackness and the multitude of stars. I’m going
to miss a daily routine that I will likely never have again, especially when I
think of all the experiences unique to life on the MV Explorer, such as the
shipboard library, Glazer lounge, the field office, the purser’s desk, Tymitz
Square, the Union, main dining room, garden lounge, snack time, the piano bar,
cabin stewards, dining hall crew members, bridge tours, bing bong
announcements, the tv loop, special dinner, cabin parties, extended families,
trying to shoot a three-point shot or lift weights during a rocking ship, Mexican
dinner, ice cream cake and cookies, deck 7 pool, gym, and bar, powerful wind, Sea Olympics, Neptune
Day, talent shows, explorer seminars, the gangway, shipboard time, dock time,
pre-ports, post-ports, always carrying around a water bottle, global studies, walking up and down flights of stairs,
trying to walk in a straight line down a hallway, never having the slightest
idea of what day it is but instead operating on A-days and B-days, never having
a wallet or keys, and everything that makes up our days on the ship. Living
with students, staff, faculty, lifelong learners, and dependents makes for a
fun and interactive shipboard community. Since I work on a college campus back
at JMU, I think I will miss having the close interaction that I currently have
since we all live and work together on the ship. The MV Explorer has truly
become my home, and all of us on the ship share a special connection in the way
we experience a college semester on a ship, an experience unlike any other I've had before. Some people say that going on a cruise afterwards is absolutely
nothing like the Semester at Sea experience, which seems obvious and makes
sense, and also makes me a little sad to know that our sailing around the
Atlantic this Fall, especially on a long 10-day crossing surrounded by nothing,
nothing but the vast ocean, is a unique experience that simply cannot be
replicated; how happy and grateful I am to be here. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06658126483119184405noreply@blogger.com3