JRP at Sea

I undoubtedly had high expectations for Cape Town, South Africa. When I first started talking about my Semester at Sea voyage, Cape Town was frequently the location that prompted the most envy from others. The natural landscape, opportunities for adventure, culture, people, and history certainly provided the potential for the best port on our itinerary. As our ship departed South Africa after 4 nights and 5 days in port, I felt as if Cape Town indeed emerged as one of the best ports of the voyage. I can’t particularly say what day was the best, although Day 4 certainly stands out, and I can’t particularly say what activity was the best, although the Lion’s Head hike stands out, and I can’t particular say what experience was the best, although the township visits stand out, but I can say that I fell in love with Cape Town, and the enthrallment started on the first day. Kim, Claire, and I went on a Semester at Sea trip to the Khayelitsha and Langa townships. In Khayelitsha we visited...

Our arrival in Tema, Ghana was my first trip to Africa. Walking off the ship for the first time presented me with a stark contrast to the European countries we previously visited. When Claire and I visited the local market on the first day, I clearly noticed and felt that I was in a country unlike any other I had ever visited. I looked around and saw the industrial port area, the streets with huge potholes and crazy traffic, the dirt roads with clouds of dirt kicked up by speeding trucks passing by, the various people along the street, some working and others watching people pass by, and locals carrying their goods by balancing them on their heads. The market was unlike any other I had seen before, with an endless maze of narrow alleys in an enclosed area of shacks and stands within, where locals were selling huge piles of bananas, dried fish, drug store items, clothing, huge pieces of raw meat, and various other products. Some shop owners were sleeping on the floor, others called ...

Unfortunately Semester at Sea had to cancel our trip to Morocco because of the anti-U.S. protests that were taking place shortly before our arrival. Everyone was disappointed but we all understood that our presence raised significant security concerns. I had been looking forward to the drive through the Draa Valley, stopping in Ouarzazate, Marrackech, Mhamid, Zagora, and the Ait Benhaddou, with camel treks in the Sahara Desert near the Algerian border, sleeping in nomad tents, but it was not meant to be. The cancellation allowed us more time in Spain, and a trip to the Canary Islands, to the island of Tenerife. At first, I felt as if I ran the risk of letting this port get away from me. I was tired from a fast paced journey through Europe, with little time for rest in between countries, and I was slightly in a bad mood that we weren't in Morocco, as snobby as that may sound. My state of body and mind set me up for a pleasant surprise. On the first morning, a large group of us w...

Although our ship arrived in Cadiz, my first visit to Spain began in Seville, as we traveled there by bus for a bullfight followed by a tapas dinner on the first day. The bullfight was a truly cultural experience and unlike any sporting event I've ever attended in the United States. The crowd is dressed up and is often reverent, calling for complete silence when the matador gets on his knees, says a prayer, and the bull is released into the ring. We were fortunate to attend the last bullfight of the season, with two of the most popular matadors in Andalucía. There were several intense moments, some dangerous, when the first bull pinned a picador to the ground, and some ecstatic, when the matador loved by the local fans was carried around the ring and out into the streets in a euphoric and somewhat crazy scene that was on the front page of the newspapers the next day. Although I didn't have a crazy Hemmingway experience, drinking with the matador in a tiny bar, the ...

The delay in writing about Portugal is probably a result of being intimidated by what I know will be a challenging act of finding words to describe a moment that took 33 years to happen. Although I clearly should have visited Portugal already, and I once sat with my Dad at an airport gate unable to get on a standby flight to Lisbon, those regrets quickly faded away when I saw my Dad and Mom standing behind the security gate at the port in Lisbon. I was finally in the country where my Dad was born. I grew up with my Dad only speaking Portuguese to my grandparents, living in a Portuguese town in Massachusetts, with their home perpetually smelling like Portuguese food, with stories and pictures from Alcobaca, with Benfica soccer games on in the background, and a strong sense of Portuguese culture. My 3 days in Lisbon were in a way, very much like going home, but for the first time. Although I already had a strong sense of what Portugal was like, to finally be there, to see the blue and ...

Before going to Amsterdam I went to Bruges for a day trip with some other faculty members. We took the morning train and wandered the streets of Bruges, which of course involved a stop for waffles as we walked along the canals and buildings built centuries ago. The highlight was definitely the canal ride, as we passed under low bridges and viewed the city from a different perspective. The next day I woke up a little tired from a night of live music in the alleys of Antwerp, but I decided that going to Amsterdam was a priority. Even though I didn't have a hotel room booked and I knew little about where I would want to stay, I walked to the train station and arrived in Amsterdam a couple of hours later. The trip would eventually become a highlight of our Antwerp stop, perhaps because I planned so little, traveled by myself for the first time during this voyage, and felt a sense of accomplishment in how I made my way around the city of canals and bridges and saw as much as I did, bu...

Antwerp brought a welcome sense of unfamiliarity. The streets were empty at 10am and few places were open when we stepped off the ship to wander the streets. Locals stay up late and open up late. Dutch, French, and some German were heard in the streets. Mostly everyone also spoke English and delayed my eventual immersion in a country where I would truly be a foreigner in an unfamiliar country. Realizing people spoke at least 3 languages made me feel quite inadequate with my reliance on speaking English. I somehow managed to resist the first stop for waffles but my self-discipline quickly faded at the second waffle stand. (I proceeded to eat 3 more waffles during the week.) Wandering the narrow alleys of Antwerp, discovering a chocolate shop that served melted chocolate in coffee, and a big group of friends gathered together out in the streets for dinner and drinks before we all went different ways the next morning to explore different cities, some to Paris, others to Amsterdam, and s...