from Port Louis to Shanghai

Okay so confession and repentance: The past month I have been terrible at updating my blog. I promised myself that I wouldn’t let it slide, but of course it has. I don’t even know where to begin and since I can’t access the internet, only my email, amd I have no clue what the last thing I wrote about was. So I am just 

going to write the cliff notes version for Mauritius, India, and Vietnam. If I feel up to I will tell yall about my AMAZING time in China:

 

Mauritius: Although it was easy to get around due to the lack of a language barrier, I would not ever choose to go there or probably ever return.  I am surprised I had never heard of it before SAS, since it is the only known habitat of the Dodo bird, and I had definitely heard of the Dodo before SAS. The most interesting incident that occurred to me was hopping a ride with these 4 Mauritians (haha likes like Martians) on my 

way to hike “the thumb” mountain.  Three other ladies and myself were lost looking for the bus station. Well, we could actually see the bus station but, we were on the other side of the road, and there was this huge gated median that prevented us from crossing.  When we asked for directions, they offered us a ride. 2 minutes after jumping in the van, we realized they were going the wrong direction and I uneasily watch “the thumb” get smaller and smaller out the back wi

ndow. At first, I was thinking “oh shit, THIS is the situation that my parents warned me about.” Then I snapped back to reality since the Martians still seemed very harmless, the driver was a friendly guy, the older couple with him were using canes, and the lady next to me had just been telling me all about her daughters studies. We asked them to drop us at the next bus station, where we waited for about an hour, since we didn’t know that it was customary to actually flag down you bus, they don’t just stop.

Eventually after about 3 hrs of travel time (we had anticipated 1 hr max), we found ourselves at the bottom of the mountain at the end of a long dirt path.

 

India: I had signed up for a SAS trip called “The Art of Living,” which is an international course on learning to live a happy, healthy life.  So upon arrival, instead of exploring Chennai, 18 of us hopped onto an airconditioned bus with our guide Ne, and headed for Dakinshana—the Williamsburg of India, to meditate and practice breathing exercises for 3 days.  The accommodations were very “rustic,” aka a stone hard cot, no ventilation, dodgy electricity, and literally a hole in the floor for a toilet. Isn’t it funny how rustic is defined differently by everyone. The simple lodging was fantastic, and I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Although I enjoyed the retreat, it felt very cult-like, if you get a chance you should google Art of Living and see for yourself, the photos of Guru (blanking on his name), are hilarious, I actually purchased some of the literature just for the comic-value.

India was also the first country I really ventured off on my own.  It was very empowering (/probably a little dangerous) to bargain for a rickshaw, find city center, and explore the city all on my own.
The food was amazing. I ate things with my hands, that you never knew were possible to eat with your hands.  And most things were served on banana leaves. I also ate enough naan bread to feed the US army.

 

Vietnam: Vietnam. I loved it there. The first day I spent in Saigon and it was great. The city was super easy to get around, and I felt really safe, even though some SASers did experience some crime involved with theft. I explored the city with Christina, a chinese/peruvian girl from San Francisco. We got some Pho noodles, explored the market, and got some clothes made. I was fitted for a pair of linen paints and a nice cotton shirt. The first night I went with a whole bunch of SASers to a club called Apocalypse Now. It was so fun dancing, and drinks were very cheap—actually everything in Nam was cheap.  Everyone in Saigon travels around on motorbikes, and you could hire one to take you anywhere in the city for less than $1. Crossing the streets was insane. You literally step off the sidewalk in front of traffic and keep a steady pace because they plan their routes around you and if you stop or speed up, you WILL get hit. There were a few student injuries and 2nd degree burns from the motor bikes, but I thought it was so much fun! I loved Saigon I was actually kind of sad that I was going to the Mekong Delta for 3 days and 2 nights, because SAS trips tend to be hit or miss.

Luckily, this trip was definitely HIT! We had the best tour guide EVER. His name was Thien (sounds like Ian with a T). He called us "semester family." He was 34 years old and had a great life story. One of my friends Bryan and I are planning on returning someday soon to backpack with him from Northern Vietnam to the South. Thien is very smart, speaking 5 languages fluently.  When he was 13, he tried to flee the country and ended up living in a refugee camp in China for 7 years before they sent him back to Vietnam because he was too young to prove he was fleeing for political reasons. This set him back in his schooling but he managed to earn a degree anyway, and because of his language skills that were self taught while he was in the refugee camp, he was able to get a job with the tour company.  He taught us a whole bunch of Vietnamese phrases that I will have to teach you when I get home.
Anyway, the Mekong Delta was so great. We went to a water market, where each boat sold specialty fruits or goods. Then took a riverboat to the house on stilts where we spent the night on cots with mosquito nets. Bryan and I were the only ones adventurous enough to go swimming in the river and I am hoping not to get any parasites, but I just couldn't pass the opportunity up. That evening, we were invited to help prepare our meal, and then a traditional Vietnamese band and professional amateur singer preformed for us. It was so magical. I can't even explain.
From the Mekong Delta, we took a bus ride, and a ferry ride to Can Tho, the 5th largest city in Vietnam. It was really fun, and we stayed in a 4 star hotel. Most of the other guests were Americans with the Operation Smile campaign--fighting against cleft palates. I met this guy named Jay from New Jersey who graduated from Uni of MD a few years ago—small world, and is presently working on a documentary about Operation Smile. He also taught English in Thailand for 2 years and absolutely loved it. I really fell for this country, I know I said this about India too, but I know I am going to return to Vietnam, I did not want to leave.
Before heading back to Saigon, we had some free time, so 3 other girls and Bryan and I decided to get a massage. It was 11 am and the hotel spa was closed so they set up appointments for us with a place that was extra cheap because the massage therapists were blind. We show up and the girls are put in one room, and Bryan in another. It was a little awkward because we got completely naked and the massage therapists were all men, but it was okay because they were blind, at least that’s what I told myself. The massage itself was pretty good, although they could learn a thing or two about atmosphere. There was no calming music, and the guys all chatted in Vietnamese the whole time.  Things got even more awkward and interesting when the little blind asian man jumped up on the table, straddled me, and started beating on my back, and twisting my legs in positions I did not know were possible. I almost put a halt to it, but luckily things did not cross the line, and I felt safe because the 3 other girls were literally in the same room as me. Things did not go as well for Bryan. Apparently, if you are a male, it is expected that you expect a little more than the average massage. Let's just say he was not pleasantly surprised, or relaxed to find out that his therapist was not blind, locked the door, and was overly eager to please. He put a halt to his massage about 5 minutes in, and had to explain that this was NOT the kind of massage he wanted. When he first objected, the receptionists response was "do you want a younger boy?" Sad. The whole massage cost $2 for an hour and overall was good, but it was creepy seeing all the married Western business men in the bars and clubs with Vietnamese women on their arms. We even saw Capt. Jeremy.
The final two evenings in Saigon were the best. After so many Pho noodles, a few of us decided we wanted some burgers and fries so we ate at a western restaurant called The Underground in the developed section of Saigon. Then I met up with some friends at a jazz club called Sax & Art. Best live jazz I have ever seen. My friends Eric and Annie had been going every night, and had become friendly with the owner, who happens to also be the best saxophonist in all of Vietnam. He could play two at the same time.  Anyway, we were sitting front and center in this crowded jazz club. Some people were dancing and Eric and Annie danced so great, the previous night Annie actually got to sing with Jung. I told Eric he was a good dancer, and a few songs later, he asked me to dance with him. No one else was dancing, and all eyes were on us. It was so much fun because he is so great at leading that it made me look like I kinda knew what I was doing. The club photographer was taking pictures and everything, and we might end up on the website! After that we headed to a couple night clubs and danced with fellow SASers. The final evening, we met up with Thien after his last tour for some Vietnamese BBQ.

 

So much for keeping this short…

 

CHINA!

The ship landed in Hong Kong on the 11^th.  After traveling to all these developing countries, it was crazy to be in a developed  economically stable city once again.  Not to mention, it is the same harbor that scenes of Batman were filmed in. I spent the majority of the day running around the city, going to the tops of tall buildings, visiting museums, and ending at Victoria’s Peak—the best place to view the sunset.  When I was at the top, I spotted KR and the crew several levels below me and I got their attention, we grabbed a bite to eat, and headed to the harbor for the symphony light show.

The next day, I sent all my postcards, made some phonecalls then made the 2 hour bus ride to Shenzhen airport, only to find out that my plane ticket had been cancelled. Fantastic. I am stranded in an airport, where no one speaks English! Luckily, I found Roy, and e-ticket employee who hooked me up with a ticket on the same flight as Amanda (girl I was traveling with). Unfortunately, the ticket was $100 more but Roy felt bad for me and arranged a free meal for us.  So it worked out.

When we arrived in Beijing at 12 am, it was freezing, literally.  Our plane had been delayed  due to SNOW.  Let me remind you that for the past few months, I have been in a deep depression about missing autumn because it has been so freaking hot.  And when I was packing for this voyage, I didn’t consider winter weather.  I had every warm layer I owned on, and was dubbed the “walking, talking closet” by some of my friends.

Anyway, back to Beijing.  We found a taxi, and he took us to the SWEETEST hostel I have ever been to. And it was $12 per night.  We went to sleep as soon as we arrived.

The next night Peking Hostel was completely booked, so we spent the entire day with our packs on.  We visited the palace featured in disney’s Mulan, secured tickets for the sleeper train to Shanghai to meet back up with the MV Explorer, and figured out travel plans for the Great Wall.  We bought tickets for and acrobatic show, and ended up finding a shitty hostel to stay in for the night.  

The Great Wall was GREAT!  But it was actually a pretty intense hike.  And it was really really really cold—4-10 degrees Celcius.  

This farmer lady named Show, followed us the whole time trying to sell us souvenirs.  Even though she only followed us to guilt us into buying things, I took a liking to her.  She was so cute, she was 57 years old but did not look a day over 40, not to mention she was hiking way better than any of us.  When we got back to Beijing, we met some of our SAS friends that knew Americans studying in Beijing, ate some spaghetti at the hostel and got tickets to see the Ying Yang Twims at this trendy night club.  Non of us brought going out clothes, so I danced the whole night, shook the Ying Yang Twins hands, and actually danced on stage.   That night we stayed at the nice hostel.

The next day we went around with Paul and Samar, two other peeps staying at the hostel.  Paul is from Australian but he is Chinese born and raised (until he was ten) so he is fluent in Mandarin. Against his wishes, we deemed him our tour guide, and he got us all the local prices.  Samar is Sundanese but is studying nin Vancouver and she is awesome.  She invited you and me to come vist her this summer, which I totally want to do.  She is moving onto Commerical drive, the hippie district of the city, and I am stoked to go.  I am planning on being on the west coast this summer, so maybe it will work out.

We also went to the movies to see “This Is It.”  While Paul and I were waiting in line, this man approached us and offered to sell us vouchers for tickets lower than box office prices. It is crazy that this is how Asia works. There are no rules, and the trickiest get the best deals. I still don’t know if I like this mentality.  It is very survivalistic (is that a word?).

For dinner, we ate at this open-market, and I ate a whole baby shark on a skewer (Sorry Georgia and Nima, I am going to put my money where my mouth is and be Vegan again, I just couldn’t turn down the opportunity), the worst part, which I don’t even think I should admit, is……..

I tried a bite of Paul’s dog meat.  It tasted just like beef. I’m sorry, I ask forgiveness for my inhumanity and cruelty.

Lauren tried water beetles.  The whole experience was crazy.  There were maybe 100 vendors and you just purchased your food from the stalls and ate it right there.  We were all bundled up and still freezing, with cans of beer in one hand and food in the other. The venders were having fun with us.  We would try to bargain, and they teased us saying they would give us free food for kisses.  Paul ended up getting us pretty good prices and we walked away without suffering the taste of sheep penis.

From the food-market, we hopped a cab to the train station where we were to catch a sleeper train at 9:40 to arrive in Shanghai at 8am the next morning. I was a little apprehensive since I had been warned by people who traveled on sleepers in India, but it was actually really nice and pretty comfortable. 

While we waited to board we met “Ruby” a homeless lady who took it upon herself to follow us. She spoke no English, and we spoke no Mandarin, but there was definitely a connection, and this did not prevent her from having a conversation with us at all. She chatted on and on and gave us all pamphlets from church.  We shared our dinner with her and it was really great.

 

Honestly, I am ready to part ways with SAS.  Not that I am ready to quit my circumnavigation. I just want to do it on my own terms. I feel rushed to make it to “on-ship” time, and the ship is too luxurious and wasteful.  I feel like a seasoned traveler now, and no longer want to be babied by SAS.  I can’t have imagined coming this far entirely on my own but I feel that I can go anywhere now. It is very empowering.

Dear World, you are now my backyard!!!

South Africa: Sorry Its a Long One Guys....

As I gazed at Table Mountain from the mouth of the harbor, before the MV Explorer had docked at the Cape Town port, I could feel it in my bones, that this would be my favorite place. For being the "most dangerous" port on our itinerary, I definitely felt a strong sense of security, even if it was false. The waterfront district reminded me a lot of Baltimore's Inner Harbor. It was clean, touristy, and showed no signs of poverty. There was a healthy balance of races, and no tensions were evident on the surface.The first day in South Africa was spent on a tour of the Backsberg and Nelson Creek Family vineyards. It was your typical wine tasting, complete with a feisty guide with a superb sense of humor. The wines were all tasty, although I think the impromptu lesson on the consuming brandy properly, proved to be most valuable skill I walked away with.In the evening, Laura, Rebecca, and I invited ourselves to tag along with Kelly Rose to her South African friend, Jermaine's 30th birthday. We met up with JuJu (another friend) before hand for a couple of drinks. The party was at a private bar above a shop on Long Street. Let me tell you, Long Street is the place to be any night of the week after 11pm. There are countless clubs and bars lining more than 15 city blocks. It reminded me a lot of Bourbon Street in New Orleans.Since we were promised dinner upon arrival at the party, the girls and I held off on eating before hand. Disappointment does not even begin to describe our feelings when we got to the birthday to discover there were only finger foods. We definitely felt like the fat Americans enjoying a healthy share of appetizers. By 2 am, we had mingled enough and decided to move camp and meet up with some other SASers. Big mistake. Why is it that in every country there exists a bar, usually an "irish pub," that plays terrible American music and hosts all the English and American tourists? Well, my friends, this is where we ended up. Dubliners. The place was packed with SASers, other American tourists, a handful of Brits, and the South African creepers preying on the Americans and Brits. I have never held on to my credit card tighter. Unfortunately for several SAS students, this was the last evening they saw their cameras or credit cards. Around 4:30, the troops decided to move out, stopping only for a quick bite at a stand selling hotdog-ish sandwiches.The next morning we woke up early to make it to the market. And boy was this an experience. Ugh. This was the first day that Rebecca, Laura, Kelly Rose, and I realized that the South African Gods were not in our favor between the hours of 11-3. We found a cab driver pretty quickly and asked to be taken to Green Point Market. GP Market is a very well known market in Cape Town, everyone knows where it is, especially cab drivers. Our driver told us that GP was closed but he knew a good market that we could go to instead. Hesitantly, we decided to go. Bad idea. 15 minutes, 200 Rand, and a racist conversation (our white driver believed that the apartheid segregation was completely acceptable) later we were at the worst market I had ever been to in my entire life. Instead of traditional wooden masks, and ebony carvings, they were trying to sell us old cell phones and used mops. Luckily or unluckily we had the driver wait for us. We had him take us to the stadium that is being built for the 2010 World Cup. We found some security officers and asked them if they could help us find a cab driver that knew where Green Point Market was located. We hopped in, and started ranting to our colored driver about how terrible the previous guy had been, ironically only to wind up at the same exact market 15 minutes later. By this point we were so frustrated that we gave up all hope, and had him drop us off at waterfront.

We immediately went to talk to Nanie, our new South African friend who worked on the waterfront with JuJu. We cried to him about how terrible our day was going, and that we just wanted to give up on Cape Town. Not to mention we still had an hour cab ride to the Rivierbos, the guest house in Stellenbosch, where we had reservations. Nanie then told us that we didn’t have to worry, he would set up dinner reservations, and give us a ride to Stellenbosch when he got off work. We gladly accepted.

The car ride was so great. Rebecca and I rode with Nanie and Wazeer. And Kelly Rose and Laura rode with Fachrie and Nanie’s cousin. The conversation was great. Wazeer asked us about our political views and what we thought about 9/11. He told us about his childhood growing up in South Africa as a colored person. And they explained to us the tensions between races. Colored is a politically correct term in SA. There are 3 main races: White, Colored, and Black. The black people mostly lived in the townships. SAS advised us not to visit the townships for safety. Nanie and Wazeer were telling us they wouldn’t even go to the townships for the fear of being attacked.

For dinner we ate at the Spier vineyard, and it was so delicious. It was so awkward though because the guys didn’t eat, and the younger guys were sneaking drinks because Nanie is against drinking because they are Muslim. It was a little uncomfortable at first. Eventually every one loosened up and it was a great time. The waitresses painted our faces, there was traditional dancing, and the atmosphere was just perfect.

Upon returning to the guest house, we found our concierge, Darren, and his friend, Anthony, about to crack a bottle of wine, and we were permitted to join them under the condition that we would keep the noise to a minimum. With four chatty girls, his lasted for all of 5 minutes so we relocated to Anthony’s house just down the street. It was great fun hanging out with young South Africans. I think this may be why I liked Ghana and SA so much, because I was able to hang out with people my age.

The next morning we were able to continue our streak of bad luck between 11-3. Darren made us reservations to wine taste while horseback riding. We were pumped. I don’t know why we assumed that taxi’s were readily available in Stellenbosch, but I am now under the impression they literally do not exist. We ended up paying a guy from the visitor center to drive us to the vineyard, but he didn’t know where it was so we just drove around for 2 hours trying to find it. Disappointed, we returned to Rivierbos, where Darren and Tharley (other concierge) listened to our grumbling. They convinced us to try again and Tharley accompanied us to Asara vineyard for the BEST wine tasting of my life (not that I am very well experienced). Let me also mention, this all happened after 3pm-staying true to our SA timing.
After another hour taxi ride with the Carlo, the best driver in all of South Africa, we were home safe at the MV Explorer to rest for all of 30 minutes before we were to meet JuJu and friends for dinner. I was too tired by this point to continue on with my friends to go clubbing once again on Long Street, so I went back to the ship and chilled out for the evening.
The last three days in South Africa were spent mostly with Matthew and Dylan, two friends Kelly Rose and I made. Matthew is this cool sufer kid who moved to South Africa when he was ten. He has dreds, and is currently studying architecture at a technical college in Cape Town. Dylan was a black belt in Dojo or Gojo or some kind of asian martial arts and he grew up in Jo’burg. He works at an architecture firm in Cape Town. Both of them were so excited to meet Americans they liked that they wanted to show us everything. Knowing two S. Africans with cars definitely made the last three days in Cape Town easier.
The strange thing about SA is the stark segregation. The anti-apartheid movement only happened about 30 years ago so they are a little bit behind us as far as racial tensions go. The whites live in one area, the coloreds in another, and the blacks in the townships. Everything has gates and security. After tourism, security is the largest industry in SA. It was crazy going to Matthew’s neighborhood and not being able to see any of the houses because they had huge gates around them. Matthew’s house was a little crazy as well. He had 5 dogs (4 hotdog dogs, and 1 Labrador mixture), 3 cats, and 2 roosters…all living inside his house. It was a little hectic but charming none the less.
I have a lot more to say but I am tired of writing and you are probably tired of reading so just ask me about it later .

Here today Ghana Tomorrow

I have been bitten by the African Bug. And I am not referring to all the flea bites on the backs of my calves. Ghana now holds a piece of my heart in its hands. I know that I will return again one day to the beautiful country of jungles and broken highways. The Ghanaian people are of the most beautiful race I have ever been graced to meet. They are wise, kind, and above all else gentle. Every person I met touched me in a significant way.
My first thought as I pulled out of the port gates in the maroon shuttle overcrowded with SAS students was “THIS IS AFRICA.” As we exited the highly secured entrance to the Tema port, our small shuttle of 15 students immediately became the minority. A feeling that I have personally never truly experienced on the scale I did that day. At first, I have to admit that I was uncomfortable, this feeling quickly wore off since practically everyone spoke English and everyone was so warm and friendly.
After bargaining with a taxi driver, Sarah, Stephanie, and I headed toward Accra with no idea what the $10, 40 minute ride had in store for us. For all of you believers out there that think LA rush hour traffic is bad, or that NYC cab drivers are crazy, Ghana is NOT the place for you. There are NO rules. I never realized the luxury of painted lines and streetlights. We had our driver drop us at the “Cultural Center” aka tourist market, where Ghanaians make as much off of tourists as they can by hawking goods made mostly by the Asante people of the northern rural areas and Volta region. I didn’t buy much, but I learned the proper way to play Mancala, not to trust all people claiming to be Rastafarians, even if they seem really cool, and that it is okay and rather easy to say no to vendors.
We didn’t stick around too long since we had plans on attending a welcome reception by a Ghanaian university. The students were so friendly, most of them seemed to want to travel, earn their graduate degrees, start a business, then return to Ghana and invest their time and efforts in propelling the country into first world status. I found this theme fairly popular among the people I met. Most were interested in seeing other places but it seemed all Ghanaians shared a certain love for their country that is unmatched by any nationality I have met before.
I ended up going out with a few of the Ghanaian students afterwards. Since I was tired, and have decided not to participate in drinking while on this voyage, it was a little lame. We went to this place called Purple Pub, where a drink consisting of 3 shots gin and ½ shot of lime was immediately placed in my hand, um no thankyou.
It was an odd juxtaposition, all of the students had very high tech cell phones, yet we were in the middle of one of the most poverty-stricken areas I have witnessed.
Of the many experiences that I encountered in Ghana, by far the most striking was the overnight trip to the Volta Region of the country. Volta is located in the Southwest corner of Ghana bordering the country of Togo. While in Volta, I was privileged to peak Mt. Afadjato-the highest mountain, swim at the base of the Wli Waterfall-the tallest in the country, feed the endangered Mona Monkey of the village of Tafi, meet a school full of Ghanaian children, stay in the Chances Hotel that Obama graced, and even learn a song in one of the many local dialects of Ewe.
For my final night in Ghana, Andy and I ventured out in Tema. We had heard of other students enjoying their time there the previous nights so thought we would stay close since it was a 5-minute taxi drive. Once we were there we quickly realized we were the only white people, and this was a locals area. We didn’t see any other SASers and felt pretty safe…at first. Then we made friends with this guy that was selling bootleg dvds and he took it upon himself to “show us around.” He took us down this dark alley and started leading us across a dark futbol field. I quickly found myself in the situation my parents had warned me about. Andy and I exchanged uncomfortable expressions and turned things around. We got back to the main street, certain we had just barely avoided a bad situation.
That’s when we saw the only other white person I saw in all of Ghana. Naturally, we approached him and learned he was from London and had recently married Amina, the sweetest Ghanaian woman ever. She immediately took us under her wing and invited us to her house. It was a single room, with no electricity, very dark. There were a series of locks on her door and everything inside was locked in suitcases. Amina showed us wedding pictures and gave me a Ghana t-shirt. She was waiting for her marriage visa’s from the UK to be processed so that they could move back to London.
Amina kept buying us traditional Ghanaian food. We tried grilled liver, this porridge stuff that was served in a plastic bag that you bit the corner off and sucked out the goo, fresh sugar cane, and coconut juice. MMMMM. We were eating all the foods we advised not to but, I just couldn’t say no to her. I regretted this decision later when I was sick in bed for two days. Anyway, Amina was so worried about us because apparently we had wandered into the cocaine district when she found us. It was common for white people to be taken advantage of and even fall victim of crime. She wouldn’t let us leave without her setting up a cab driver back to the ship for us. I am really glad that we happened to run into her.

monkeys, mamas, and me

It is crazy that I am used to life on the ship. It has become my home. I no longer have to think about which way to turn or what deck I am on, it has become second nature. Military time is still a little confusing but, it’s easy enough to figure out.

The schoolwork is a little overwhelming, we have a lot of reading and we, as students, have to be proactive about our assignments. Professors are so willing to work with us, but we have to make the initiative. Plus it is hard to get anything accomplished when anywhere I go to study someone interesting to socialize with usually passes by.

Two nights ago, I attempted to sleep on the 7^th deck with some of my friends. The stars were beautiful, I was comfortable, but there was too much light from the teacher’s lounge, and a lot of chattering from other students, even at 1 am when I was really trying to fall asleep. So I grabbed my sleeping bag, and workout mats, and retired to my cabin, where Kelly Rose was already sleeping.

I took the first dosage of malaria medication. It tasted so nasty, but I guess it’s worth it. I am not trying to get malaria, and it has given me some really vivid dreams. I wouldn’t say nightmares, but the dreams were so real. I am hoping this may help with my goals of lucid dreaming.

It has been a little disappointing not receiving as many emails as usual, I guess that my family is getting used to my absence (hint, hint, nudge, nudge: I hope this will guilt you into emailing me more). Kelly Rose and I have considered emailing each other.

I am still in awe that I am actually on this voyage. Kelly Rose bought a world map to put on our wall and I wake up everyday amazed of all the places I get to experience.

Every night there are a series of films, documentaries, and entertainment. Last night, there was a documentary on female circumcision in Africa. It was so disturbing that I could only watch the first few minutes of it. I am a little worn-down by the social injustice and poverty that I am witnessing first-hand and learning so in-depth about. Sometimes it is hard to stay positive but there are good people and good programs out there. I have been thinking about how I want to spend my future. Whatever path I choose, or that chooses me, I hope to be an activist for justice.

We will be porting in Tema, Ghana tomorrow. I am planning on exploring the city of Accra on Tuesday, and potentially meeting with some women from the organization Global Mamas. It is a micro-loan org that strives to help women gain independence. You should check out their website www.globalmamas.org. Their goals remind me a lot of Muhammad Yunus, who won the Nobel Peace prize in 2006 for the Grameen Micro-Loaning Bank he founded. On Wednesday and Thursday I will be doing an overnight through SAS called “Volta Explorer.” I will get to swim at the base of the largest waterfall in Ghana, and hike through the rural area, known for the indigenous monkeys found there. I think the hike has us cross the Volta River 11 times. I am participating in a Habitat for Humanity project on the last day of Ghana. This will be my first service trip on the voyage.

Where Are All the Moroccan Women?

Being in Morocco proves nothing short of experiencing bizarreness. Most of the time it has felt like a time warp to the biblical times. A majority of my time here has been spent on an organized trip with SAS to the Sahara Desert for a camel trek. The excursion was spent primarily on a coach bus with 40 female college students. We stick out like a sore thumb and the bus windows make the bus feel like a little US island traveling through the Moroccan streets. The first day in port 165 people met in the Union, gathered our passports, and departed the ship on 4 coach buses for a 3 hr ride to Marrakech. We spent the night in Marrakech, woke up early, but for the second time in two weeks, my alarm clock was faulty and I woke up with a mere 10 minutes before checkout time. Luckily, I did not miss the bus, because they will leave without you. From Marrakech, we drove 8 hours to the Sahara dessert through the Atlas Mountains. This experience in itself was very intense. Our bus driver, even in the eyes of the most aggressive American driver, was indisputably crazy. He tailgated, sped, looked everywhere but where we were headed, all on the narrow mountainous roads. The trip leaders actually yelled at him on numerous occasions (through our tour guide-since he only spoke Arabic). The bumpy roads of the Atlas Mountains have no guard rails, and no rules. Many of the girls became ill on the bus, and there was a constant stream of dust being vented into our lungs. Luckily, (and the only thing that kept me sane) the views from the bus were amazing. Unfortunately, my camera is out of commission and I was unable to take any photos.
Once we got through the Atlas Mountains we went on a camel trek through the “Sahara” desert. All I am going to say about this experience is that I left with a sense of guilt for paying to ride camels that had apparently been abused and looked very ill. There were only 80 camels for 165 people, which meant half of the time was spent walking. And we could see the buses parked on the road for the entirety of the trek. Although the nomad camp that we spent the night had a great atmosphere and the sunrise and sunset were beautiful, I was thoroughly disappointed with the camel portion of the excursion. Apparently last year 3 students got drunk, destroyed some of the tents and got in physical fights with the nomads. To say the least, the nomads were wary of us and it made things a little more awkward than anticipated.
We were very fortunate with Jamal, the Moroccan tour guide that we were assigned. He was fluent in 5 languages, had a sense of humor, and was very knowledgeable on the history and current culture of Morocco. Although, I got stuck in the back of the bus so I couldn’t hear a majority of what he had to teach us.
Experiencing this African Muslim country has been very difficult for me. We hardly see any women in public, and the ones we do see, wear various stages of veils. Where are all the Moroccan women? Most of the children I have seen are beggars, shepherds, or roaming on the sides of mountain roads in packs of 3 or 4 walking to collect drinking water. I pride myself on promoting an equal playing field for both sexes and have been able to relate to a lot of teaching in my previous Race, Gender, and Class Studies. It has been really hard to see the level of sex-segregation and oppression here. It makes me feel like what I was fighting for does not matter in the big scheme of things. I don’t want to come home and settle for things that I think are injustices, it just puts into perspective how lucky I am to be an American woman, even if there is room to improve our system. I would not feel safe, as a woman, traveling in Morocco unaccompanied. This has been particularly frustrating because there are things I want to do and see, but I would never do it alone.
Also, the language barrier has been pretty difficult. I pride myself on my social skills of striking conversation with strangers. This just is not possible for me here. Everyone speaks Arabic and some speak French. I am lucky that I made friends with some ladies on the trip that speak French pretty well, otherwise I would probably still be at the Souk (market) in Marrakech unable to get a taxi back to the hotel. Arabic is completely foreign to me, although, I just got down the greeting “As-Salāmu `Alaykum” which translates to “peace be upon you” and the response “wa `Alaykum As-Salaam” which translates to “and upon you be peace.”
Islam is a very interesting religion. I actually like a lot of the ideals and practices they exercise. There are 5 pillars every Muslim is expected to do: 1-Shahada (profession of faith); 2-Salat (prayer-which is preformed 5 times daily-dawn, noon, midafternoon, sunset, and night); 3-Zakah (paying of alms-which includes giving 2.5 % of ones yearly earnings to someone in need-usually a less fortunate family member or neighbor) Jamal was telling us that there is no one that regulates this but it is rather a personal sacrifice that is between the giver and god on judgment day. There is a saying they have that says “What the right hand gives should be kept from the left.” This ideal is also incorporated into their architecture. The outside of many building look very modest but when you step inside there is beautiful marble tile work and vast open courtyards. 4-Ramadan, this is currently in session. The ninth month of the Muslim calendar is spent fasting from food, alcohol, smoking, etc. As soon as the sun sets the fast is broken. That means whenever I eat throughout the day I try to keep it discreet. Finally, the 5th pillar of Islam is Hajj, which is the Arabic name for the pilgrimage to Mecca. Unfortunately, for many Moroccan’s the Hajj is not ever feasible because it costs 6,000 Euros to get to Mecca. It is a great honor to return to your community as a Hajj or a Hajja.
The market’s in Morocco are called Souks. The freemarket I visited in Marrakech is the biggest in the world. Most of the vendors are Arabic or Berber or Arabic-Berber, which just refers to where they are from. Arabic are plains people, and the Berber are the mountainous people from the south. The haggling is intense. It was a strange thing to be bargaining so intensely over the price difference of 300 dirham versus 250 dirham as that is 6 dollars. Especially, when I see the poverty and lifestyle these people have to face. I am feeling a great sense of guilt about my place in society.
Yesterday, the trip with SAS ended and they dropped us off at the port in Casablanca, I was feeling overwhelmed and tired and almost didn’t venture out. But it was my friend Stephanie’s birthday so a bunch of us went to Rick’s café, the restaurant featured in the film Casablanca. It was beautiful, there was a live jazz band, we sipped on Moroccan wine, and smoked Cuban cigars. It wasn’t a local place, so I felt secure being a woman. We met this lady named Cathy who owned the restaurant. She used to be a US consulate worker but got out after 9/11. She gave us some of the history of relations between the Morocco and France.
I am planning on going to a lecture by a female hip hop artist featured in the documentary “I <3 Hip Hop in Morocco,” which might be available on Youtube, and I highly recommend it. After that, a few of us are going to check out the souk here, although we have heard it is not comparable with Marrakech. The ship sets sail at 8 tonight and classes resume tomorrow so I will spend the evening catching up on all the homework I haven’t touched since before Cadiz.

el condor pasa

ok so i had a little breakdown. im not saying things are perfect now but my wise little sister sent me a reassuring email replying to an even bigger anxiety attack than you were able to witness. she pointed out that even though i have been fortunate enough to have some traveling experience. this is my first time to travel solo. and i have a lot to learn. i naively entered this trip with no expectations of running into problems. i have never experienced homesickness before. but i have to live in the now. and there is nothing wrong with a good cry. i am back on my feet and ready to circumnavigate this globe. i have to be confident and put myself out there, even if i dont speak these spainards language.

if you can't tell. tonight was a better night. although i am turning in early because kelly rose and i are going to try to catch a 7am bus back to cadiz, so we can enjoy some paella (signature spanish seafood dish--i am eating this for you josie) and a visit the beach (that 007 was filmed on) before ship time of 6pm. they are very strict about the curfew. i dont know the specifics but it is some ridiculous calculation for every 15 min you are late (late counts as not being on the ship, even if you are in the line to get on the ship), you are given a timeout at the next port of call for 2 hrs.

the bar that we went to last night was on the riverside of sevilla. apparently the area isn't super safe but we were traveling in a very large group so we felt pretty secure. i dont tend to like traveling in large groups but it happens. we were definitely fitting the profile of loud obnoxious americans too. but anyway, kelly rose, bridget, christina, and i walk into a bar next to the american bar all of our fellow SASers chose to drink at, and stumbled on a creepy local bar. we decided to stick it out since the bar tender spoke pretty good english and the locals were up for conversing. i met this guy named carlos, and since neither of us knew more than 12 words of each others language i think we held a pretty good conversation (mostly 2 hours of charades and pointing at each other saying "te" and "me"). at one point in the convo he said "hepay" and pointed to me. i looked at him with one brow raised and repeated "hepay?" then carlos smiled real big, pointed again, raised his left hand, gave me the peace sign and said "hippie." we both cracked a smile, and then i knew he understood. the rest of the night was spent trying to explain semester at sea, our families, politics, and i think we spoke briefly on the topic of motorcycles.

we met a guy named miguel (he told us to call him mike) today at dinner. he was our bartender/waiter. he studied in jersey, and spoke perfect english. he was really silly because he didnt let on to this for a while, i think he was eaves dropping. he was joking around a lot with kelly rose giving her a hard time. after claiming spain was the best country in the whole world because of the food, the absense of an open-alcohol container rule and the smoking anything everywhere, he gave us a few tips on spain. he said that doggy bags were, contrary to belief, allowed and not looked down upon. he told us never to order a sandwhich or french fries. and then persuaded us to buy 45 euros worth of fried seafood, scrambled eggs and cod, and this amazing clam dish.

i am excited for morocco because i am hoping it won't be such a bar scene. i am tired of only entertaining the opposite sex, as they try to make advances. i want to meet locals without feeling there is an expectation at the end of the night.

Cadiz, Sevilla, and Small Freak Out

We have been in port now for 2 days. Spain is a beautiful country and it is nice not being on the ship. It got really small really fast. Overall, I am enjoying my time in Spain. I am a little worried about not taking full advantage of my opportunity, but optimism is forcing me to believe I will get better at the traveling thing as this is just my first port.

Upon arrival, we had to wait a couple hours for the ship to be cleared before exploring Cadiz. I signed up for a last minute city tour, which was really beneficial because it gave us a feel of where to explore on our own. I went for a walk with some new friends and we ran into this street performer in a small plaza, he was making huge bubbles with a hand-made tool. It was two long sticks and a cotton strings made of old t-shirts. There were two girls running around popping them. He saw us watching and let us try. I made two successfully. They were the biggest bubbles I have ever seen, two adults could fit inside of them. It is funny that of all the monuments and history I saw, this may have been one of the most memorable moments.

Kelly Rose and I decided to visit Sevilla, so we booked a bus and hotel for two nights and we are here now. Our hotel is beautiful. It has two courtyards--one of which houses a full grown orange tree.

We have been taking it easy not filling our schedule too too much. I am a little upset though because we have been taking taxis to this one area of town which we thought was a long way from our hotel only to find out it was just around the corner. I feel a little taken advantage of, and like a stupid american but I guess it is a good lesson to learn early on. I wish so badly that I was multi-lingual. This is going to be the most difficult thing for me. I don't tend to be shy but it has been hard for me. Last night we went to a couple bars on riverside and although I talked to this one guy from Sevilla for the whole night, I couldn't tell you anything we talked about.

I am a little nervous for the non-european countries next on the itinerary. There are things I want to do but I am scared to do it on my own. Homesickness is setting in a little bit, and I am trying to keep my nerves. I am making myself anxious. I know I can do this, but it has been difficult. I don't want to miss out. I just have to be comfortable in the fact that I am not going to see everything so I should enjoy what I do see and not take it for granite by worrying what I miss.

We will head back to Cadiz tomorrow morning early. So tonight will be an early night. I am just going to write some post cards, meet up with some friends for dinner and go to sleep. Wish me luck.