Malaysia

I didn’t know much about Malaysia prior to arriving. The general consensus was that it was going to be much more of a vacation, and far less shocking than many other ports. The itinerary sandwiched Malaysia in between India and Vietnam, both of which are regarded as monumental and extremely culturally shocking. We only had three days there and we had no idea what there was to do, so I didn’t plan much. A lot of kids even planned to fly to Singapore and spend their time there. This was such a great example of how much expectations play into your experiences. I had zero expectations and this ended up being my favorite port. There have already been many countries that I want to visit again, but I am most eager to come back to Malaysia.

The night before arriving in Malaysia, most people realized that no one knew what to do and that plans should probably be considered. There had only been three days since India and the recovering process was lengthier than expected. We googled “Malaysia tourism” and “Things to do in Malaysia” and found an island called Langkawi that looked very fun. Word spread like wildfire and within a few hours, all of the flights were full with SAS kids. I planned to go with a group that I had only met a few days before. They were all good friends beforehand and had been travelling together the whole time. I decided to go for it and jumped aboard because it sounded like we had similar goals. We planned to leave early the morning of the second day and come back the morning of the third day. Who knew 24 hours could be so memorable.

Day 1: Getting through customs and immigration was equally as frustrating as India, but outside and more humid. Drenched in sweat, I found a cab with Lauren and our friend Taylor. We planned on doing some light shopping and going to the beach. We wanted to have a mellow day and just see Penang. Penang is a large island off the coast of the Malaysian mainland. It is fairly westernized, but still has a lot of culture and cool architecture. The taxi system in Malaysia is different than any I have ever experienced. There is no meter, or bargaining. Every single taxi driver knows the set price for every ride and will stick to it. They do not compete with one another and back each other up if there is ever a question. Whenever we tried to bargain, they just walked away and left us to find that every other driver would stick to that same price. Our taxi cab driver, named “Ballin”, gave us a little tour of the city and took us to the mall where we found Starbucks and Forever 21. I hadn’t seen these two staples in two months, and was very happy to do so. I got an iced coffee and shopped for a while before getting sick. I thought that I’d be safe because coffee seemed fine and Starbucks was so reliable in my mind, but I had completely forgotten about avoiding ice. Anyways, some Tums, Pepto Bismol, a lot of gum, and a few concerned Malaysians later- I learned my lesson: No more ice. I ended up skipping the rest of the day and coming back to the ship to rest, get ready, and pack. I met up with the new group and we made our way to a hotel, which they had found earlier that day. It was perfect! Three big beds in one room, clean, and perfectly suitable for the twelve people that planned to sleep in it. We stayed there for a while and relaxed before making our way to the reggae bar/hostel that some other SAS kids were at. It was one of our friends’ twenty-first birthday so we celebrated and had a lot of fun that night. I spent most of the night dancing with the toothless 65-year-old bouncer who introduced himself as Charlie Chaplain. The two of us, along with a few waiters and bartenders, had ourselves a great time and bounced around for most of the night. There are two things that I’ve learned on this trip when it comes to dancing. The first is that it is one of the best ways to learn about cultures. The way that different locals dance differs drastically from country to country and is very indicative of their lifestyles. The second is that it is the best way to get to know people. From now on, I will always accept and encourage dancing, in whatever setting, with whomever, from 5-year-old girls to 90-year-old men. Sometimes the language barrier is tough but everyone can dance and there’s nothing that produces more genuine smiling, which instantaneously breaks down every wall. I was the only SAS kid, or white person for that matter, but I didn’t care and the awkwardness was surmounted very quickly. We made our way back to the hotel around midnight, only to find a big issue that changed the rest of our trip. At the entrance of the small hotel, there’s an outside courtyard with a small restaurant and bar. Our room was right above the bar and earlier that day, while I was on the ship getting sick, my friends had put on suits and were hanging out in the rain on the roof. They thought it seemed pretty safe. That night when we got back, two of our friends were in chairs with their heads down, surrounded by hotel personnel and a few of our other friends. A group of 5 had come back earlier and two of them had walked out on the roof. They stood together on one panel and, to their surprise, fell through. The bartender said that he felt it shake and then just saw two girls fall from the sky. He told us that it was clearly a sign from heaven because two girls, covered in white, fell from the sky. The ambulance came and they went to the hospital. I stayed back and cleaned the room, hiding backpacks and trying to make it look like there was only four of us staying there in case the hotel workers came up to talk with us and investigate. Apparently the hospital was very clean and comparable to ours. The difference was that the nurses and doctors were the nicest people ever. They said that they were never too busy, no matter what was going on and were more helpful than any American health professional that they had encountered. For each girl’s consultation, X-rays, ultrasound, bandaging, and whatever else, it was 100 ringgits (approximately US$30). Stitches were included and no insurance was used. The people working at the hotel were the same- we thought that they would be furious but they were so sympathetic and just apologized over and over for the flimsy roof. Of course it was our fault, and I had expected some harsh feelings. Anyways, I didn’t sleep for 5 minutes that night. I laid down at one point but so much was going on, with people running in and out of the room, phone calls being made and hotel personnel inquiring, that I never relaxed. The girls had been brought back to the ship’s medical center on stretchers. Apparently one of the ship’s security men, Vladimir from the Ukraine, ordered over the walkie talkie “Do not touch the broken person” in his extremely strong accent. This whole fiasco proved to be a learning experience about the people and the systems in Malaysia- everyone was incredibly friendly, helpful and efficient.

Day 2: When the alarm went off, I was ready and excited for the day. The two girls that fell through the roof were definitely not making the flight and we got news from the ship that they were okay- no broken bones or serious issues- so we settled the roof payment (US $275 for a broken roof) and made our way to the airport. The 25-minute flight was unbelievable- it looked a little bit like Mauritius. The clear water was gorgeous and divided by hundreds of tiny, uninhabited islands. I immediately knew that we had made the right decision to come to Langkawi. We talked to the airport tourism woman who recommended the cheapest, best hostel to stay at. We rented a van and made our way to “Gecko Guest House”, a shanty little place that ended up being perfect. It was about $5/person and we got two rooms. The amenities weren’t 5-star by any means, but it was sufficient and the experience surpassed anything we expected. Langkawi is very mellow and the general look is board shorts and dreadlocks. The man who walked us through the booking procedure took an extra ten seconds to process each question before responding. He would just stare off in the distance and then look back and ask us to repeat the question. This was not a language barrier but I hope that my suspicions weren’t correct because he seemed like a nice guy and marijuana is punishable by the death penalty in Malaysia. Sam ended up becoming a friend and loved high-fiving me whenever we walked by. The hostel consisted of tiny individual rooms that surrounded the outside courtyard/ bar/ restaurant. There were 25 cats, all of which were incredibly cute and small and roamed freely. Sam knew all of their names and was quite proud of them. We left our stuff behind the bar for the day and walked down to the main street to find a taxi. We wanted to hike and find caves and waterfalls, so we talked to a man who would drive us around the island in his van for 6 hours and show us everything. This was the best 6 hours of my life, one-hundred percent. I could write pages and pages about every single thing we did but it would not do it justice. I’m going to leave most of it for pictures and hope that everyone reading this makes it to Langkawi once in their life. (If I become a millionaire, I’m definitely having a destination wedding here so everyone reading this- get excited). We went to a little café in the middle of rice patty farms. No one spoke English but we ended up getting thin Asian pancakes with really good sauce and paying 8 rinngits TOTAL- this is about 3 dollars total, for 7 people. We had a Pepto Party in order to not get sick and went on our way. The island is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen, more so than any movie or photograph. We first went to a place where we could find someone to take us out on a boat and explore the little rivers. The little rivers curve around the mountains in the island and then deposit in the ocean in various places. We saw giant lizards, monkey families, and in one spot- hundreds of eagles. The roots of the trees lining the river were a few feet above the water and created a very mystical atmosphere. It was muggy and otherworldly and overwhelming. The boat threaded in and out of caves, where we saw bats and tons of other creatures. Finally, the boat dropped us off on a tiny beach that you can only reach by sea. Keep in mind that no one is around for any of this. There aren’t any tourists- we saw a few boats but no one was on the beach or the caves. We hiked up another cave and then walked out a long, gorgeous dock and jumped in. We swam and marveled at what was around us. The shore to the right was Malaysia and to the left, we could see Thailand. It was an outer body experience, and one I will never forget. Afterwards, we met up with our driver and went to a place where we could see waterfalls. We got out and immediately had cookies and a huge coconut stolen by monkeys. We then made the huge trek up the side of a mountain. It was the best workout- so beautiful and so much to look at. We hiked next to a waterfall, going straight up incredibly steep steps. At the top of the waterfall, we found an area that had natural-made rock water slides. There were a few other people there who had already found them, so we followed their lead, got in and had the time of our lives. Looking around was unreal. We were sliding down incredible, exhilarating slides in the middle of a tiny island off of Langkawi. Behind and around us were rain forests with monkeys. Below was a waterfall (there was a curve so you didn’t go down that) and then the ocean in front of you and, eventually, Thailand. Dreamlike. And then it started to rain. That just put it over the edge. I have never smiled harder. It was out of a movie; we went down the slide all together in disbelief that this was really happening. At that point, we went down to the bottom of the waterfall to look up and really see the height. We carried our clothes and did the whole hike down wearing suits and hiking shoes. At one point, on even ground, I decided to run with one other friend. It was the best run I have ever been on- so warm, raining, surrounded by a fantasy. We made it to the bottom only to find more slides. Only two went in because by now there was thunder and lightning. We watched and warned them to get out when the lightning and thunder got close together. On their way out, they learned their lesson. Somewhere close, the water was struck so their legs were shocked. It was minor but their muscles were shaking and cramped a little- pretty crazy and very scary. We made our way back to the van and headed back to the hostel. I had to throw my shirt and socks out because of how dirty it was. The shower consisted of a water spout in the bathroom that completely soaked the whole room, including the toilet and little ledge- there were no dividers. We went to a little café down the street and had burgers. The meat was red (not undercooked- just actually red from sauces, etc.), very different, and probably not a smart idea. Pepto party! We spent the rest of the night at the hostel, meeting other travelling students and backpackers, mainly from Australia and Sweden.

Day 3: We woke up early, cleaned up from the hectic and very fun previous night and made our way to the airport. By this time in the trip, most food hesitation has diminished. I devoured an egg sandwich from a bizarre fast food place and had a chocolate and peanut butter waffle. Incredible. We flew back and got back to the ship. I wasted an hour or two on the ship because my body was so dead. Three hours of sleep in two nights, an extremely vigorous day, and questionable food definitely took its toll. I then went to my scheduled orphanage trip, which was really disappointing. The kids only wanted to talk to us if we offered them toys. They didn’t seem to be orphans- one even told me that her mommy gave her her necklace. I sound like a horrible person, but to be honest- they were all just really bratty. It was such a contrast from all the extremely nice Malaysian adults we had met. We made our way back to the ship and through customs and immigration in time for the ship to leave at 6.

Malaysia was incredible and I am so eager to return. We were there for three days but I felt like it was a week. The second day feels like it was a dream and all of the people that I traveled with were so fun. I’m recovering and excited to get to Vietnam- three days!

India

Jai Ho! Previous to docking in India, the ship’s crew covered the carpets in cardboard, hoping to minimize the dirt that the shipboard community would potentially track in. The general conversation before arriving revolved around the fact that India would be completely different than any port we have been to yet. Preparations were made in order handle the various things that would overwhelm the senses. We discussed the Indians’ idea of personal space and how their personal “bubble” is far smaller than Americans’. The dirt would take over and the smells would overpower. Wear closed-toed shoes at all times, watch out for crazy traffic, and get ready to throw your clothes out after wearing them. The percentage of students that the medical center expected to get food poisoning was frightening. One-sixth of the world’s population resides in India, and I could not wait to witness such a staggering statistic.

In my mind, I expected dusty, busy cities with a lot of poverty and some belly dancing. What I got was six days that seemed like two weeks that changed my life. It was dirty, but not as bad as we were told. The poverty was mind blowing and everywhere. It really made me realize and empathize the difference of lifestyles, rather than just acknowledging the chiasm. I know that I’m going to have a hard time recalling all of the experiences and communicating the spiritual encounters, but I will do my best. I apologize ahead of time because I already know that this blog post will be lengthy.

Day 1: I had a FDP for my management class to a Fair Trade Shop in Chennai. It wasn’t scheduled until 1pm so I spent the morning working out, having lunch, and packing. Getting out of the port in the buses in Chennai is a nightmare. The system that security has in place is incredibly ineffective and takes anywhere from 45 minutes to one hour and twenty minutes for big groups. They check each passport and each customs form and record it all for each individual person, one at a time. Most of the time security comes onto the buses and does it, instead of us getting off. The first time that we did this, we stopped for a while on railroad tracks. Sure enough, in the middle of the process, a train came roaring from around the corner and had to come to a halt in order to not hit us. This close call was very scary and our first taste of the lack of systems and organization that the country has in place. Looking out the window on our drive to the shop was a good first taste and was the first step in this culture shock. Seeing the mass amounts of people and cows roam the street was unnerving, almost as much so as the traffic. Buses of all sizes, bicycles, trucks, motorcycles, cars, auto rickshaws and bike rickshaws all push and nudge their way forward at any opportunity. There is almost no space in between different modes of transportation, lending a feeling that everyone is in a hurry. This constant rush hour affected every sense, stirring up massive amounts of dust and keeping everyone on edge with the constant horns. The horns were all different sounds and never-ending, acting as turn indicators. Drivers’ hands remained on their horns in an effort to push forward and show their presence and intentions on the road. Indian drivers only look forward, never to the side or in their rear-view mirror because they all look out for each other. Their only responsibility is what’s in front of them, which in fact keeps everyone safe because there is effectively always someone that you’re in front of. Our bus dropped us off on the side of a road at the entrance to a large alley, or narrow dirt road. Whatever it was, our group walked down it, still in awe of what was around us. The alley was lined with people of all ages, sitting and staring at us. They were clearly discussing our presence and equally as amazed as we were. Our complexions and home locations separated us but our differences in lifestyles defined the separation. Previous to our appearance, they had been living their daily lives, talking, eating, heading to work, washing clothes, and doing whatever else that maintained their existence. As we walked, they stared and waited for acknowledgement. Anytime I smiled, waved, or said “Hi” to an individual, it was genuinely reciprocated. They would never try and connect first, always waiting for us to make the first move. Their interaction with and respect for cows was apparent, as they walked up and down. Their bodies were covered in infected, oozing gashes and sores which attracted flies in mass quantities. Dogs ran through the streets, and we avoided them at all costs because of the rabies warnings. Apparently Indians consider dogs to be dirty and do not keep them as pets. On the other hand, cows are the holiest of creatures and looked at with much respect, more so than humans. Throughout India, no matter your income level, women wear bright colored saris or extravagant tunics with matching pants. Men, of course getting the easy option, wear jeans or pants with collared shirts. The Fair Trade shop offered us coconut water straight from the source and told us to remove our shoes, a general theme throughout India. They made different types of Indian jewelry, incense, and textiles, stressing dignity, sustainable development, workers’ rights, and fair tourism interaction. We met a 76-year-old woman who had had a large influence on fair and honorable business. She worked hard to become educated and ended up inducing many parts of various industries to change their ways. She was a Nobel Peace Price nominee and had even interacted with Ghandi. At the shop, I had my first Indian bathroom experience, which, to be honest, almost brought me to tears. I had heard that they would be gross but I had no idea. Growing up with a mother such as mine, who insists on washing your hands immediately after school and looks at never letting pants touch public floors as religion, I wasn’t ready for this. The bathroom was off of an office, and the floor was about two inches below the floor of the office room. This difference was made up by water. Keep in mind that I didn’t have shoes on. I was in awe at the depth of what I hoped was runoff from the sink. Squatting outside would have been a much better option but, at this point, I didn’t want to disrespect the nice woman who had showed it to me. I figured that since that was their normal routine, it couldn’t be that bad and embraced it. From then on during the trip, I was strangely comfortable with the level of grunge, dirt, and lack of hygiene. I am so glad that I did because had I not, I probably would have not shaken so many hands and hugged so many bodies, kissed a little boy, touched the Ganges, walked barefoot through temples, or ever used a restroom. This lack of disgust and level of comfort allowed me to be at ease and connect to the people and their everyday life on a deeper level.
        We were running late leaving the shop, and traffic getting back significantly delayed our return. Along with a few others on the FDP, I had planned to attend the Welcome Ceremony, but we assumed that we wouldn’t make it because we got back to the port entrance an hour later than that bus was scheduled to leave. Good thing security was so slow! Those buses were still waiting in line, so we hopped out of ours and ran to meet the others. This transfer was indicative of what was to come in this country… rough transportation, nonstop itineraries, and what I like to call- rallying. The Welcome Ceremony was in a big, grass courtyard and consisted of a henna station, dinner, a stage with traditional Indian dancing, and shopping opportunities. I had a dinner that I didn’t enjoy too much. It was really spicy and I was a little nervous about getting sick. The tea and coffee was the best that I have ever had. I got the inside of my palm and wrist decorated with henna. The artists were three sisters and this was their business, their main gig being weddings. My favorite part about this night was talking with the Chennai University students that were there. I hung out with two 19-year-old boys for most of the night, comparing lifestyles and cultures. They told us how their university takes three years and they live at home while attending. After graduating, they all hoped to attend Graduate School in the US. I was really interested in learning that their weddings were typically 10 days to one month long and girls’ parents saved for years and years to pay for the monumental event. We discussed the difference between arranged and “love” marriages and how India was slowly transferring to the later. He talked about how oftentimes arranged marriages worked out better but that you had to be married to someone in your, sometimes constricting, caste. Those who lived in cities typically opt for a “love” marriage and only are arranged if they do not find someone by their late twenties. Talking with these kids was a great experience and taught me a lot about their daily life. Afterwards, we came back to the ship and packed.

Day 2:
I had signed up for a 4-day trip through SAS to Delhi, Agra and Varanasi. I packed one backpack for the whole time- Dad, you would be so proud. We left at 9am the second day and took a lengthy bus ride to the Chennai airport. I was extremely excited to start this journey, full of energy and looking forward to the next few days. I finished the books that I packed for the entire voyage by South Africa, underestimating the amount of down time on the ship, so I bought Superfreakonomics in the airport. It ended up being a great purchase because the introduction was about women in rural India and how ill off they are. The recent introduction of television has increased their quality of life more than any type of government intervention. It rained when we walked from the terminal to the plane, which made me miss Oregon a little bit. It was warm rain, which is clearly different but still made me feel connected. The plane looked exactly like an American one, except, surprisingly, cleaner. The only strange part was the immense fog that circulated inside, which came from the humidity outside, which made it difficult to see a few rows ahead of you. Upon reaching Delhi, our first stop was a Seik temple, which was where I had my biggest jaw-dropping moment, the first of many on this India trip. We covered our heads with small, orange triangular scarves and removed our shoes. Stepping through a pool of water in order to cleanse my feet, I walked into the grandeur marble building. The carpet was mustard yellow and the walls were gold and painted with various religious pictures. In the center of the one square giant room was the focal point. There was a stage that worshippers gathered around, decorated in metallic gold and incredibly bright colors. Three men were sitting off to the side playing traditional instruments, singing, and worshipping. The fluorescent pinks and blues was what made it so shocking to me. The entire thing looked so aggressive and pungent, and definitely what I would have considered to be tacky previous to this experience. The incredibly bright colors that you consider to be stereotypical of India but not actually what is presented in the country are real. The temples, saris, and decorations are brighter and shinier than you would expect. Indian people were all around the stage, face down and kissing the floor. They were clearly delving into a religious experience, one that meant a lot to them. The children that were there did not participate as children do in church in the US. They seemed to be affected and willing to be there. I asked our guide how often people visited the temple and he said it varies. I asked what the normal amount is and he responded anywhere from one to five times a day. Again, “varies” is very relative, depending on where you are. Afterwards, we went next door to a kitchen that is run on donations and supports the homeless and hungry. We walked around it in a circle, passing the various stations. When we passed the vegetable station, the man stirring the food, picked me out and motioned for me to come over. I stepped up on the platform and stirred the potato and cabbage mixture in the biggest wok I’ve ever seen. The spoon that stirred the mixture was about 5 feet tall and required some serious instruction. I’m not sure why Indians liked me so much on this trip but there was multiple times throughout the week where I was picked out of the group to do special things that no one else got to do. This was one of them and I will always remember it, along with the conversation that I had with the man afterwards. The street in front of the temple was not much different than most of the streets in India but, for some reason, it sticks out in my memory most. There were many disfigured people, especially children, begging. The scene in “Slumdog Millionaire” where children are mutilated in order to bring in bigger profits while begging continuously came to mind. There was a dog sitting a few feet away from our bus and a boy around fifteen walked by and kicked it, hard and square in the side, for no reason. It hurt to see that and really illustrated the hurt that many experience. There were a lot of Indians around him and they did not look surprised by this in the slightest. Afterwards, we went to a Hindu temple. Their main symbol is the swastika, and I’m still not sure why. It is printed everywhere and is very important to them. We discussed a few out of the millions of gods and again and marveled at the magnificent colors. On our way out, we caught the end of their evening ritual. The Hindus that were there at the time all stood in the entrance hallway and chanted to the music that was being made by the two men and one woman off to the side. One man was behind the gold railings and honoring the shrine by tossing a variety of religious artifacts around. The color orange is hugely religious to Hindus, so orange carnations are everywhere and used in every religious experience. We left the temple and made our way back to the hotel. I had been sitting next to a man named John, a life long learner who is probably about seventy-five, from Phoenix. He has been to over 100 countries, and to his favorite, Antarctica, six times. He decided with his wife after graduating from UCLA not to have children so that they could travel as much as possible. Anyways, he took a liking to me and would give me little gifts throughout the trip and always ask my opinion about various cultural issues. My first gift was a book that had a section on India, and in specific Varanasi. I set down Superfreakonomics to read this book, which discussed a lot of what we had been seeing. One section in particular talked about the driving and talked about how, in India, all you need is “a good horn, good brakes, and good luck”. Our tour guide repeated this exact phrase and I showed him the passage in the book. He went on to say that when it comes to driving, when you speak the same language, you understand. If it were more organized, accidents would be far more prevalent. Yellow lights indicate to “look”, not to “slow”, as they do in America. We arrived at our hotel, the Ashok, which was 5 Star. One thing that you can count on with Semester at Sea trips is that the accommodations will be nice. This was originally a con for me, and still is a little bit, because it does seem to take a little of the authenticity out of the experience. However, after travelling all day, I was not complaining about having food that wouldn’t get me sick and a comfortable bed. Our dinner was a delicious buffet that gave me a better taste of Indian food than the Welcome Reception had. The next morning was an early wakeup call so Lauren and I made our way back to our room (complete with turn down service and free slippers).


Day 3: We woke up at 4:15 and met in the lobby at 4:45. Our packed box breakfasts had a few questionable items so I traded many of them for the hardboiled eggs. I had eight by the end of my trading but only ate five because a few were discolored. We got to the train station, hopped on the Shatabdi Express, and made our way to car C10. The station was a very dirty and sad place. Witnessing all the poverty in the form of the sleeping homeless being swarmed with gnats and mosquitoes was a visual that will be with me for a very long time. I had packed a sleeping mask and earplugs so I slept for most of the time. We arrived and made our way to the Taj Mahal. Upon arriving, we cut the line of the hundreds of Indians waiting for hours to enter. This was another instance where my complexion made me very uncomfortable. I didn’t like how we were just assumed to be impatient Americans and I would have rather have waited in line. I feel like a lot of big, worldly sights can be disappointing because they are built up so much before visiting. I was a bit disappointed in the Eiffel Tower so I half-expected to have a similar response. The Taj Mahal was everything that I expected, and more. A Mughal Emperor, in memory of his wife, built the Taj. What an amazing present, eh? I’d take one of the New Seven Wonders of the World over diamonds any day. We walked around and took a bunch of pictures. A lot of Indians approached us and asked to take pictures with us. By the end, it was a little annoying because they would just stand in lines and not take no for an answer. We must have posed for over 50 with them. On the walk from the Taj to our bus, the streets were lined with monkeys. I had just bought an ice cream and was walking down the street when one started to approach me. Monkeys are one of the lead carriers of rabies so we know to keep a safe distance. I hurried away, making my way through a big group of people. It ran after to me and someone yelled at me to drop my ice cream just before it got to me. Somehow it had not occurred to me that this was why it was after me. It was a very scary and a very close call. I threw down the dessert just in time and realized immediately that death by monkey would be one of the worst ways to go. After the Taj, we made our way to the Agra Fort, which I regret not getting as much as possible out of. I was so hot and tired and overwhelmed by the Taj that I didn’t walk and explore the whole thing, remaining in the shade. The architecture was magnificent but by this time, we were exhausted. After the Agra Fort, we headed to lunch at a hotel, another extensive buffet. The hotel had made shirts that had a picture of the Taj Mahal on the front and “Welcome Semester at Sea” written on the back. They really knew how to capitalize on us. Afterwards, we headed to Fatehpur Sikri, a red sandstone deserted city in honor of a Muslim Saint. It was pretty far off the road and there were not many tourists there at all. There were, in fact, about thirty elementary kids in school uniforms hanging out there. We talked with them for a little while until one of them grabbed me and pulled me away from the SAS kids, gave me a pen, and asked me to sign their hand. She shouted something to the rest of them and I was promptly mobbed and made to sign my name on thirty kids palms. (A bunch of people took pictures and videos of this). Apparently, they thought that I was an actress in a movie that they had recently seen. I’m afraid that they’ll be disappointed if and when they compare my signature to whatever actress’ name they thought that I was. On the walk back to the bus, I made a friend named Peter. He was initially haggling me to buy souvenirs but I ended up talking to him for the entire walk back. He spoke English, Hindu, French, Spanish, and Italian. The cynicism in me thinks that he might have just learned one phrase in each in order to impress tourists and induce heightened prices for whatever he was selling. Nevertheless, I bought in and talked to him about his hopes for the future. I ended up buying a package of jeweled pens for 100 rupees ($2) and gave him one US dollar as a souvenir. I got back on the bus, found a few little candies from the hotel and hurried back out to give them to him. He hugged me and told me that I was the best US friend he ever had and asked for a kiss. Of course, I kissed him on the cheek. He was SUCH a cute little boy and I hope that one day he gets to come to America to satisfy his fascination. On this bus ride, I saw out the window a dog that looked exactly like Possum at home. This was so rare because all of the other dogs are skinny labs or like the dogs that you see in Mexico. It was a beautiful Border Collie, same coat and markings, with little dirt and scratches. It made me miss my puppy at home and made me realize that this was the farthest away from home I felt. I was exactly 12 ½ hours around the world (India time zones are broken up by ½ hours). Halfway around the world and I finally truly felt far, far away. On a ship, it feels like we are remaining stagnant and the places are coming to us. India felt other-worldly and even though it made me a little sad, I enjoyed the sentiment. Café Yumm in Eugene and Balboa Island in Newport now seem like they’re from another life. It’s easy to say but difficult to feel and I’m just now feeling the great distance. Now, when I’m traveling through countries and I want to get home, I think of the ship and my comfy cabin as home. Our train from Agra back to Delhi was delayed so we stopped at a few stores. The first was a rug factory that had a variety of other high-quality goods. The second was mainly textiles, jewelry, and spices. (Tiff- I almost bought you a bunch of cooking spices but apparently they were stale and wouldn’t be good.) I tried to bargain for tea but I think that I offended him because after we agreed to a price, he asked me to leave his store. Apparently I didn’t realize the value of what he was selling. We had Pizza Hut and got back on the train to our hotel. This day seemed like it lasted for weeks. On the train back, I slept for about twenty minutes (during which, I slept talked a lot, apparently) and then was wide-awake thinking over the events of the day. It is a bizarre sensation when your body is beyond tired but your mind is spinning so that sleep is not even an option. We made it back to the hotel and got a few hours of sleep before the next day.

Day 4: We made our way to the airport where we took a plane to Varanasi. We immediately drove to the hotel where we would be staying that night, the Ramada, to have lunch. It was again very nice and lunch was incredible. Every sit-down meal I had in all of India was buffet-style. Afterwards, we went outside of Varanasi to Sarnath, an area that houses an archeological museum, a Buddhist temple, and remains of an ancient monastery. A few girls and I were not so excited to take tours so we checked out of the group setting and walked around. We went in the Buddhist temple (where Buddha preached his first sermon) and walked around the ancient remains. The remains were extensive and very interesting to see. Afterwards, we still had a bunch of time so we walked around and talked with locals and bought a few knickknacks. I only had 5 rupees (approximately 10 cents) and that would only buy me one item that one stand offered. I told him that I wasn’t interested in that one and I just gave him the 5R donation. He was very offended and gave it back to me and asked me to go buy chips a few stands over. This was a cool experience because it was my first sense of how they truly value the act of exchange and how they wanted to stimulate their economy (even if he didn’t realize what he was doing). Another thing that really struck me here, even though we had seen it many times before, was witnessing a ten-year-old girl begging, holding an infant that couldn’t have been more than six months old. The baby looked drugged and was being held in the worst, most uncomfortable way. It was so sad and really made me think about how that child had no say in where or in what circumstances she was born into. We made our way back to the hotel for our earliest night yet to shower and have dinner. Lauren and I broke off from the group and ate with some lifelong learners, an adorable couple that I grew to love. Bud and Martha, 76-years-olds and from New Orleans, were widows that married ten years ago. They discussed each of their grandchildren in depth and told fantastic stories. I was in awe of how they were keeping up with this tough itinerary when 20-year-olds were so tired. At the end of the itinery printed before signing up, there was a warning about how it was action-packed and rigorous travel. I love the fact that that did not deter them almost as much as their apparent gumption for life and hope to hang out with them more on the ship. Afterwards, we joined our friends at another table. Chelsea is a good friend of mine on the ship and her aunt had joined us in India. She was doing the same SAS trip so she came everywhere with us. She travels a lot and discussed the magnitude of this trip with us, highlighting that it would not fully impact us for years to come. I really enjoyed hearing her perspective at this point of the trip. Afterwards, 6 out of the group of 40 went to the hotel bar. I could not believe that we were about to drink and party after being up for so many hours and having to wake up at 4am. When in INDIA! We drank and hung out with the bartenders (Fahad will always hold a special place in my heart… we discussed Britney Spears for a good twenty minutes). Around 11:30, when the reasonable decision was to go to bed, we decided that this was not the trip nor the location to be reasonable. We decided to change and make the most of the night. Five of us rallied like we never had in our lives, walked out of the hotel and rented two bicycle rickshaws. There is nothing like riding through Varanasi, India in the middle of the night knowing you have to wake up in four hours. Admittedly, I was pretty scared and was not thinking that it was a good idea at all but we were with guys and, in the end, I knew it would be an amazing experience. Earlier in the day I had ran into my friend Austin who had told me his room number at a different hotel. We somehow saw that hotel and went in, woke them up, ordered way too many drinks, and partied in his hotel room. After breaking a few bottles and making a lot of enemies in the rooms surrounding us, we sleepily headed back to the Ramada and got in an hour nap before waking up for the Ganges!

Day 5: Anybody in their right mind would be comatose after the past few days and night we had, and everybody else was. For some reason, this trip has 360ed me. I have never been great about running off so little sleep. I get cranky and am not one to rally without a solid nap. Not here, for some reason. Most were sleepy and inhaling coffee, as anyone in their right mind should be. I, on the other hand, was singing and taking pictures and just loving life. Still drunk? Probably. Slap happy? Absolutely. In India? Hell yeah. We made our way to the Ganges for their morning ceremony, which was my favorite experience in India, and the entire voyage thus far. I’m not going to try and fully describe what this was like, because I think that pictures will do a better job. Even still, the Ganges is a place that will never be understood until visited. It is the holiest location for Hindus. Some come every morning to bathe and some come only to cremate their loved ones. It is lined with Ghats which look like they are hundreds and hundreds of years old. They are actually fairly new and rebuilt often because they deteriorate so quickly, but knowing that takes something away from their impact. The shore is lined with people submerging themselves in the river, for both hygienic and spiritual reasons. Hundreds of boats are tied up and concrete bathing facilities are always in use. We motored upriver and then floated back downriver, all the while in awe of what was going on around us. There was a little girl on our boat who was selling orange flowers and candles for us to put in the river as a Hindu honor. The girl told us that she lives with her parents, 3 siblings, two grandmothers, one grandfather, and one aunt (10 people) in a one-room house. On the shores of the river, people were being cremated and ashes were thrown in the river. The most holy way that a Hindu person can be remembered is to be cremated and put in the Ganges river. If a pregnant woman, child, cow, or holy authority dies, they will not be cremated. Instead, they will be taken to the center and weights will be tied to them to sink the body. Seeing the fires on the shore was a very real experience that I will always remember. On the way back to the bus, we had a long walk through an alley that we did not walk through on the way there. It was narrow, about three people shoulder width apart. The smells were foul and overwhelming but nowhere near as overpowering as the sights we witnessed. We were constantly being shoved and stepped on by the Indians living in this slum, who were making their way through. As we combed through the dark, filthy alley, we were haggled by relentless merchants, shouted at, and gawked at. Tourists clearly did not visit here. At one point, we brushed up against a corpse being brought down to the Ganges. At this point, an Asian SASer took out his camera and snapped a ton of pictures of it. I have truly never been more ashamed of being American. It was such an obvious display of ignorance and disrespect. I snapped at him and he stopped, but he will never be forgiven in my mind. The emotional reaction that the Indian woman had when viewing his behavior proved that what he did was unforgiveable. One merchant would not leave me alone and insisted on me buying a do-it-yourself body art set. I didn’t want to buy one but he would not leave me alone for the duration, about thirty minutes. Upon reaching the bus, he offered to give it to me for a kiss. I was frazzled, distraught, and disturbed and I refused. This walk was one of the hardest things that I’ve ever had to do and I had tears on the way home. There’s no way to fully describe that experience and I don’t have any pictures from it but it will never be forgotten. We made our way back to the hotel and I said goodbye to Fahad. We got to the Varanasi Airport and took the flight to Delhi, where we had a long layover. We went to a café where we got lunch, amazing mochas, and coffee cake. We were drained from the day but the coffee and cake gave us tons of energy. A few of us went upstairs to the bar/gentlemen’s club before going back to the terminal. Once inside, my group of friends randomly started dancing in the middle of the airport. We were so tired but so in love with our lives and at the time, it seemed appropriate. The ten of us were doing the various dances we had learned in Ghana, South Africa, and India and jumping up and down. This was a moment that is still very much with me. When would we ever be in Delhi, dancing in the middle of an airport for a half hour, waiting for a flight with great friends? The rest of SASers from our trip, along with throbs of Indians stared, laughed, and took pictures and videos. We got on the second flight back to Chennai. This was our last transport and I hoped that maybe I would get some sleep on this last trip but, of course, I was wide-awake the entire time. We got back to the ship around 10. I got ready to go out but at the last minute decided that my body would probably shut down so I went to bed.

Day 6: I woke up and had a few hours before leaving for the orphanage visit I had scheduled. I probably could have and should have gone out and explored Chennai a little bit but security is such a hassle and I decided that I would instead take the time to get organized, relax, and work out. We left on the orphanage visit at noon. When we stepped outside, I had a strange realization. This was by far the hottest, most humid heat that I had ever been in and I was strangely accepting of it. We headed to the orphanage and immediately were led inside by elementary age kids. I was in awe of how cute these kids are. Was it a publicity stunt? Do they only let the attractive and charismatic ones interact with visitors in order to create superficial bonds and funding? It was a horrible thought but definitely crossed my mind. By the end, I knew that that was not true but that the kids were just that adorable. They made every effort to speak English and interact with us. Barely anyone asked for anything; they were just excited to receive. A lot of SAS kids (myself not included, for which I regretted instantly) brought bags of coloring books, toys, crayons, etc. We colored in coloring books and played with cameras. They LOVE to take pictures and then turn it around to see the product; this never got old. A few of the older Indian girls performed a rehearsed dance and then, to our surprise, expected one in return. A few of us got up and did the maccarena, and a few others. They seemed extremely unimpressed until the hokie pokie, which they recognized and promptly joined in. We played for a few hours, meeting new kids and moving from room to room. The entire time, one girl stuck by my side. Devida is one of the cutest, most talented little girls I have ever encountered. She was initially very shy but after a little while, very friendly. She participated in some of the songs and dances and was incredibly attentive. She drew pictures outside with chalk that were incredible. The most impressive thing was her tact and class; she wasn’t pushy when it came to getting gifts and was massively polite when it came to asking to use the camera. I feel like she was my younger sister or daughter and I’m so excited to show off pictures of her. To those of you that said I would fall in love with some guy from the Midwest on the ship- you were wrong. I fell in love with a little girl named Devida in an Indian orphanage. When leaving, we hugged for a long time and she just kept saying “Best friends. Friends strong. You and I are friends” over and over in every different way possible. We had to be torn apart. I left my extra rupees with the orphanage in a hope that in some way it will enhance the life of this little girl or ones like her.

India was, in a way, nothing at all what I expected. In another, it was everything that I expected and more. It wasn’t dirty in the way that we heard. I don’t have to throw away my clothes and I wasn’t upset by the filth. Instead, I feel so bad for the people that I met and for those I didn’t that these are their standards. They are used to throwing all trash on the floor and regarding the rare trash can as superfluous. Children are raised from a young age that this is okay- it is their culture. Putting your banana peel on your classroom floor after lunch is the norm. If this is what is normal, where is the hope for clean streets? The amount of open sores on people and the disfigurement affected me in ways that it hasn’t when I have seen it in the US. It is so shocking when you see it in mass amounts of people, I think, because there is a greater chance that it would have been your reality had you lived here. India is truly the land of contrast. The wealth and poverty live simultaneously and the opposite ends of the spectrum are so extreme that it appears as if no one is in the middle. A woman with a removed nose and small drop of puss in place of an eye, begging, lives outside of the apartment building of a family who spends equal to 10 million US (this is not an exaggeration) on their wedding. In classes back home, the role of women is visited over and over and their unfortunate situations are re-examined often. However, I have never felt it more than here. Everything about being a woman is so drastically worse than being a man in this country. Discipline and beating from your husband is a regular occurrence for some, mainly in rural India. The orphanage was 90% girls because parents leave them in trash cans and on train tracks. The same parents’ sons are their pride and joy. Pregnant mothers are starting to have ultra sounds- not to search for health issues, but to see the sex of her baby in order to decide whether to abort or not. Our tour guide mentioned a few times that India was the largest English speaking country in the world. This is true solely because of their immense size. The population is hard to fathom and because of it, there are more English speakers in India than the US. After returning to the ship and talking with a lot of other kids, I have found that a lot of people did not have the same emotional and moving experience that I did. I don’t think that I would have had I not gone to Varanasi, but the country as a whole truly changed my views. Varanasi did it for me because of how authentic it was. They were not used to white people, at all. A lot of homestays in Ghana or South Africa provided an opportunity for kids to go to villages and stay with families. Although this is very authentic, the families prepare for you. You aren’t merely dropped into their lives without notice. It didn’t make a difference to them that we were there or not. They went on with their lives, which are so different than ours, and this candid experience is why I was blown away and am still reeling. Today is our first day back on the ship and I’m emotionally and physically drained. I’m sure than I forgot a lot but this is long enough. India is somewhere that I really want to come back to. It’s not a vacation type of place, but a place to go to when you really want to think and be violently thrown out of your comfort zone. Next stop: MALAYSIA!!

Tutu, Mauritius & Sea Olympics!

DESMOND TUTU:
After South Africa’s “on ship time” – the steadfast time of the day that we have to be on board with our passport’s returned after port- we had a guest speaker. Admittedly, I lack knowledge on international affairs, as well as a general sense of what is going on in the world. This includes noteworthy people. Before leaving on SAS, a few people had informed me of the significance of Desmond Tutu speaking on the ship, but I did not know a lot about him. I got to the room where he was going to speak with the friends that I had spent the last day in South Africa with an hour early. We had prime seats in the second row and chitchatted about what our past few days had consisted of. A few minutes in to his talk, I had become semi-ashamed that I had not previously known who he was. He was a great speaker, and it was my favorite talk that I had been to. He was clearly important and wise, without being pretentious or mentioning his achievements. He discussed the importance of human connection and relationships- which seamlessly associated the idea of umbuntu that had been drilled into us the entire voyage. He spoke with stories and jokes- all of which ended with his high-pitched, unforgettable laugh. Needless to say, I enjoyed him very much and think that everyone should YouTube a talk of his- even just a short one. You won’t regret it!

MAURITIUS:
Global Citizens is a company that plans and sells SAS trips for students while in port. They are a less-expensive, sometimes more popular, alternative to the excursions directly from the SAS field office. One of their most popular trips is the one-day catamaran in Mauritius. I decided to purchase this one, along with 140 of my closest friends. We made our way out of port and climbed onto a few buses. They were rinky-dink, crowded buses with no air conditioning and seats that looked like they could break at any moment. This was definitely a different experience, compared to the 5-star buses that SAS seemed to find in every country. The 45-minute drive to the catamaran proved to beneficial because it was just what I needed to fully convince myself that this country really did exist. Before SAS and a Wikipedia search, I had had no idea that Mauritius was real, let alone where it was and what it consisted of. From what I’ve gathered, it’s a type of Bahamas for Europeans. Many Europeans come here to vacation, for clear water and beautiful beaches. We got to the beach and docks where our catamaran was.  After some serious confusion (it wouldn’t be a new country if there wasn’t any), we finally figured out which catamaran was ours and jumped aboard. There were four boats for the entire group so we split up and got our bearings. The boat was similar, but smaller than, the one that I have been on many times in Maui- the Paragon. To most SASers, the most attractive feature of Global Citizens’ Mauritius itinerary was the open bar onboard. To their dismay, it was very limited and did not live up to their expectations. (Good news for me, the 1/140th voluntary sober population). After they got over that disappointment, the reality of where we were and what we were doing began to set in. We were on a tiny island off the east coast of Africa. We were with a ton of kids the very same age as us. We were on our way to our own private island. We could see the bottom of the ocean below us. This was yet another unreal experience that most of us would never live again. On the way out to the island, we laid out in the hot sun and danced our little hearts away. Dancing on tables and benches while on a small catamaran going over monstrous waves is a dangerous idea and many have bruises and scratches to show for it. We arrived at the island in disbelief. Some had been to the Bahamas or Cook Islands, but many of us had not and this was all new. There were many small white-sand islands, with incredibly shallow water in between them. We all jumped off the anchored boats and swam in to one island- SAS took over. We took tons of pictures, found friends from other boats, and floated along the shores. Most were too intoxicated to snorkel but it was probably just as well because there wasn’t many fish when I tried. The coral was very sharp along the shallow parts so a lot of people cut their feet or stomachs. I had bought an underwater disposable camera in South Africa so we tried to make use of it but I have no idea how they will turn out. I was in amazement, taking it all in. There’s literally nothing on the planet that I would have rather done that day. We had a ton of friends, all together, partying on our own private island in Mauritius. “Fun” doesn’t even begin to describe. We swam back to the boat for a late BBQ lunch and to head back. I have a flip video camera where I’ve been trying to document as much as possible for my mom and dad & grandparents- so there’s a lot of videos that I’ve had friends give a little intro as to where we are and what we’re doing that start out with “Hi Anna’s parents! Today we’re…”. The funniest one thus far is on this catamaran. My friend Austin drunkenly starts out “Hi Anna’s parents!” and proceeds to explain his creative contraption: a beer bong filled with Jungle Juice, made out of a snorkel. The captain of the catamaran was a self-proclaimed “doctor” that was helping the SASers stay hydrated with his “medicine”- an extremely strong alcohol concoction. Anyways- Mom & Dad- as you can see, I’m learning a lot. Unfortunately, I got pretty seasick towards the end of the trip and had to stay at the back of the catamaran, staring at the horizon. Somehow, while every other girl was still in their cute bikinis, I ended the day wrapped in a big towel, with a sweatshirt on top, and a backwards hat. I truly looked like a mess but it was just a sign of a really good time. We got back to land where Lauren and I found a stand that made crepes. On the ledge, it had a big jar of Nutella (my new favorite food). We bartered for a while, explaining that we just wanted to buy the jar and not a crepe, but it wasn’t an option. The whole exchange was hilarious and the language barrier made for a really difficult time. We came away empty handed and thoroughly discouraged. Two casualties on the Mauritius trip that are worthy to write home about: My really good friend Sarah from SMU fell over on the catamaran and chipped her front teeth off. Luckily she doesn’t remember the pain, or it happening at all, but she is a gorgeous girl that now has a distorted smile for a while… Also, Joe (Erin- your friend from Denver!) was blacked out during the transition from catamaran to bus, and he got on a public bus instead of a SAS Global Citizens one. He ended up in a tiny Mauritian village with no money and no shirt and had to haggle his way back to the ship- missing “on ship” time and barely making it before we set sail- or whatever cruise ships do. Neither of these situations are ideal, but both made great stories.

SEA OLYMPICS:
Sea Olympics are a big deal on SAS. We have heard about it since getting on- it’s even bigger than Neptune Day (the day when people shave their heads). You are split up into Seas based on the hallway you live in. I’m in the Baltic Sea and we have been strong the whole time- I have a ton of friends that live in this hallway, thus are in the Baltic Sea. It is filled with athletic, smart, and funny people- all of which make for a diverse and strong Sea Olympics team. Note: They have come to accept and love my uncoordinated, seemingly noncontributing self as one of their own. As big as Sea Olympics is, there is little to no preparation or practice involved. I signed up for Taboo and the Reverse Spelling Bee. In addition to these two events, I agreed to mixing the music and choreographing our synchronized swimming performance. Sarah (the one who chipped her teeth) and I made the music two nights before Mauritius- it was a 3-minute 90’s throwback mix of epic scale. Making this was so fun and just pumped us up more and more. After the music was made, I came up with a hilarious routine for the boys- the four funniest guys in the Baltic. They were really determined and dedicated and by the end- SO good. I was very proud of the little synchronized swimmers that they became throughout our practices. The morning of Sea Olympics brought a lot of excitement. The Baltic Sea made a line and piled into Lauren and my room in groups of 5 to get their faces/bodies painted and hair strewn with ribbons. Two other girls made our chant and it was practiced until the last minute. We gathered together for the Opening Ceremony in the Union- the biggest room on the boat. We scoped out the competition and felt confident. Our spirit and capable members were clearly unparalleled. (If you have experienced me during Derby Days- you know my general vibe during events such as this. Second place is nothing better than the first loser. ) All the chants were performed and judged (we got first, obviously). The rest of the day was a cluster of confusion- there was at least twenty events, many going on at the same time, so keeping track of all of it was difficult. I was quite frantic running around but loving it so much. We were clearly ahead and had delegated the perfect people for each event. The 4 of us in Taboo lost horribly, but that was to be expected and not a big event. I had my last practice with Synchronized Swimming on the side of the boat before their big performance. I was like a proud mama bear when they all nailed it the very last time. They gathered in my room to have their costumes perfected and makeup done and they decided that I was a crazy future-soccer mom. If this is what soccer moms do, sign me up. Their performance was SO good. I think that it was hard for them to hear the music so the beginning and some of the timing was off but their faces were perfect and they really gave it their all. We tied for first! This upset me at first but the other team did a decent job as well. Last was the big reverse spelling bee in the Union, where three people from every sea competed. Spelling backwards, out loud, when you can’t correct yourself, is a lot harder than it sounds. I was the last one in from the Baltic Sea so there was a lot of pressure. I didn’t win (hugely disappointing) but I lost on spelling the name of a professor: Frolander-Ulf, which is foreign and pronounced strange. Anyways, we had fajita night (huge deal on SAS) and made our way into the Union. At the closing ceremonies, it was announced that the BALTIC SEA WON!! (Like there was any way we wouldn’t…) Anyways- moral of the story: our sea/hallway is the best. We get a free party in one of the lounges before India and get off the ship first in Fort Lauderdale, which apparently is really nice because it takes forever. Sea Olympics was SO fun and I am dead tired.

Next stop: INDIA! So many plans for these 6 days- the blog post will be epic, promise.

SOUTH AFRICA

South Africa is my current obsession. It is gorgeous and exciting and offers something for everyone. This country is far more convenient that the previous two that we have visited, still maintaining a magnificent culture. The remnants of apartheid remain, supplying ample racism and separatism for an otherwise advanced society. South Africa’s Constitution, adopted in 1996, is one of the most liberal and accepting governing documents in the world. It illustrates their ill feeling toward any type of discrimination, including race, religion, or sexual orientation. However, their society and people do not live their life this way. Whites, blacks, and coloreds all have different jobs, live in different areas, and ultimately hold themselves to dissimilar standards and regards. In America, our culture and lifestyles change, to be followed by an updated law or ordinance. To contrast, South Africa has adopted a very progressive Constitution and is waiting for society to keep up. It is two opposite ways of thinking and each are working in their own way. Cape Town has every component of a contemporary, metropolitan city in which people can live and work in a complementary way. However, this is not the case. Whites live in the city. Blacks and coloreds live far from the center, many in townships where the quality of life is very subpar. There is no law that mandates or even recommends this separateness; it is merely how things have been done for many years. One-seventh of their population has HIV or AIDS and many are living on less than $2.50 a day. Despite all of the poverty and health issues, South Africa is by far the prettiest place that I’ve even seen. At Cape Point, the coast juts in and out, so that if you stand in one position, it appears that islands surround you. Cape Town is a must-see.

Day 1: The night before, we had planned to wake at 5am, in an attempt to catch the sunrise on the way into port. The Observation deck was blocked off because of heavy winds and choppy conditions so we sat in the teacher’s lounge, which overlooks the bow of the ship. Coming into Cape Town port was as beautiful as I had heard it would be. It looks as if the city is tightly squeezed between the water and the mountains, cramming a lot into a relatively small amount of space. We had breakfast, got ready, and waited for the boat to be cleared by customs. Upon disembarking, a group of about ten of us made our way to Mitchell’s Pub to kill time before my SAS- organized Faculty Directed Practicum (FDP). The area right outside of the ship was very different from Morocco and Ghana’s. The mall is immediately next to the ship, as well as a hotel and a variety of shops and restaurants. There is even a small amphitheatre and Ferris wheel within a five-minute walk. Little did I know that Mitchell’s would become such a staple in our short week. We ordered cocktails and I got Fish n’ Chips, which were better than any I had ever had. Our group discussed plans for our time in South Africa, ranging from four-day Safaris to lofty hiking goals, to tourist traps and more. We stayed at Mitchell’s for a while and returned to the ship to catch our FDP around noon. The FDP was a wine tasting trip that aimed at teaching us about wine production, management, and marketing. We took a bus to the wine country, called Stellenbosch, which put Napa to shame. The wineries included gardens and structures that looked like they were right off the most majestic of Hollywood sets. We went to two wineries, each of which are multi-generational and family owned and operated. At the first winery, we learned about the distribution strategies and managerial aspects. At the second winery, we had a tour of the building where the wine is actually made while learning more about the production. At both, we tasted a variety of their wines and brandy. I personally do not like either so I handed mine to friends whenever possible.  I’ve think that I’ve always subconsciously associated wine with maturity and so I kept trying it in an effort to enjoy it, but it never clicked so I gave up. At every winery, some friends bought bottles of wine and chugged them before the next one or before reaching the ship at the end of the day. Needless to say, I was babysitting to get those kids back on ship without being thrown in the ship’s security’s Drunk Tank. We got back and got ready to head to Mitchell’s. I had an extremely questionable burger and proceeded to see every SAS kid pile in the bar. We ended up staying there all night, returning to the ship for a few hours of sleep.

Day 2: I didn’t have anything planned for this day and most everyone I knew, including my roommate, left on a 2-day bungee jump and shark cage diving trip early in the morning. I woke up and wandered around the ship, hoping to find someone that I knew that had stayed behind. I ran into my friend Colleen and her two brothers and cousin that had flown down to Cape Town from the US to meet her. We walked around the immediate area, through a few markets, and finally to the Aquarium. The Aquarium was really fun, but pretty similar to an American one. It had different species of fish and animals, but wasn’t a thoroughly different experience. I still enjoyed it very much and we agreed that it was a perfect way to kill an hour. From there, we made our way to Spier, which is a little area in the middle of the winelands that has a large bird reserve, a cheetah reserve, and some really amazing restaurants. Talking with the taxi driver was one of my favorite experiences in South Africa. I sat in the front seat with him and it was a van so those that were in the back seats were pretty separated. It was a long drive so after a while our discussion became more and more candid. He told me how he had lived outside of Cape Town for his whole life, had never left his country or even been to Johannesburg. In addition, he had never hiked Table Mountain, which was very prominent in the city and a must-do for travelers (that I never made it to, unfortunately). I asked him where he lived and he drove us by his neighborhood, a township made of miniscule tin and steel houses. We discussed his views on race and why it was the way it was. He opened my mind to a lot of ideals and made me think about things in a brand new way. When he dropped us off, he thanked me for talking with him and said that when he gave white people rides, they never sat in front and never talked to him. He said that our discussion made him like Americans a lot more. You could tell that this man, Clint, an upstanding father of three who loved his wife, worked hard to make sure they always had food on the table. It was heartbreaking as I came to enjoy and respect him, realizing that he deserves a lot more in life but is stuck in the townships with almost no opportunity. In Spier, we started with the big bird reserve. It was laid out very well and displayed all of the birds that were native to South Africa, including huge vultures and many different types of owls. I even pet and held an owl! Afterwards, we went next door to the cheetah reserve where we looked at a bunch of them before surrendering and paying to have one-on-one time with them. We had to clean the bottom of our shoes and disinfect our hands before entering because, apparently, cheetahs have such weak immune systems. There are very specific rules and recommendations when interacting with cheetahs, in hopes of not becoming their next snack. You are supposed to only approach them from the back when they’re lying down so that they don’t get the idea that you’re threatening them. Also you are only supposed to press firmly when petting them, on their sides or back, with the direction of the fur so that they aren’t tickled and aggravated. While Colleen and I were petting the cheetah, named Phoenix, it stood up abruptly and turned, which was probably one of the scariest moments of my life. The trainer grabbed her chain and calmed her down, thankfully. Afterwards, we walked through the extensive gift shops and restaurants next door which were very fancy and unique. One of the restaurants, called Moyo, is set up so that every individual table is in its own tree house. We didn’t have time to eat there but I really wish we had. We came back, got ready, and had dinner at an Italian place, where I had calamari for the first time- and LOVED it. We then made our way to Mitchell’s, again.  At some point, I was convinced to go to a club on Long Street, a prominent street in the city that has all the nightlife. It was a mistake because most of my friends were still on the bungy jumping and cage diving trip and I was so tired. I finally convinced some people to get a cab with me and go home, where I slept for an hour or two.

Day 3: I woke up early and made my way to the bus for a SAS trip to Cape Point and Peninsula. I didn’t know anyone on it aside from my extended family mom but ended up making a few friends pretty quickly. We drove southeast along the coast, stopping to look at baboons and ostriches on the side of the road. Baboons are extremely aggressive animals and you’re supposed to keep quite a distance between them and NEVER have food out where they can see or smell it. Ostriches are a lot bigger than I expected and are the most prehistoric animals I’ve ever seen. A lot of their characteristics resemble dinosaurs, especially their feet, which are just one big claw. We went to the farthest South tip of Africa and then proceeded to the Cape Point where you could hike up a tall mountain and look out and see where the two oceans met. There were peninsulas all around, jutting out and creating mind-blowing scenery. From there, we drove to Boulders Beach where African penguins live. These penguins live in the sand and don’t need cold weather, like the ones in Antarctica do. They roam free and play in the water but definitely didn’t seem as active as I expected them to be. We then continued our drive and went to and seafood restaurant right on the beach where I again had calamari and loved it. We walked up the beach and went to little outside markets before the scenic drive home. That night, a big group of us went to a Thai/ sushi restaurant on the waterfront. It was great food and fun people but the restaurant wasn’t used to a table of fifteen so everything was a bit slow, including dealing with the check, which took about forty-five minutes. The dinner was worth it. Everyone was agreeing that South Africa was a magnificent place and that leaving would be hard. We went to Mitchell’s for a while before coming home for another early morning. There’s an American flag that hangs on the ceiling of Mitchell’s and all the past SASers had signed it. That night we all stood around with Sharpie’s and signed the flag- it was a right of passage that we all had looked forward to.

Day 4- SAFARI! I woke up early and got on the bus to the Aquila Reserve. I again didn’t know anyone who was going on this but made friends once we got there. We got in an open-air safari car and drove through the park, looking for the Big Five safari animals. We saw many Springboks, which look like small deer and are South Africa’s national animal. We also saw hippos, barely moving by the edge of the pond, sleeping all over each other. Every once in awhile we saw a little nose pop up from the surface of the water and we learned that hippos spend a majority of time underwater because of the heat and that they can hold their breath for six minutes. We saw more ostriches and a peacock. We also saw zebras, which are a lot shorter and stockier than I expected. There were really cute babies and a pregnant mommy. The rhinos were big and tough looking but our guide told us how their horns are sold for a lot of money so poachers have been sneaking into the reserve and killing the animals just for their horns. The elephants were HUGE and my favorite. There were two males and they seemed like they were very good friends. They kept eating dry brush that did not look appetizing to me in the slightest. At one point, one elephant came right up to our car, which was really cool. We then went to the lion area and saw six lions all lying around a stone structure. The biggest male was very protective and aware of our presence. He would not take his eyes off of the car and looked like he was ready to pounce at the drop of a hat. Afterwards, we went to a smaller enclosure that had a leopard, warthogs (Pumba!), mating crocodiles, and more lions. We went back to the resort building of Aquila and had the best meal that I’ve had in a long time. We made our way back to the ship where I found Lauren and got ready. Lauren and I went out to dinner to a restaurant on the waterfront called Caribou, which was famous for traditional and upscale African food. The bartender came over and taught her a lot about their wine and let her try some. I stuck with tea- which was SO good here. We got calamari to start, the newest staple in my diet followed by two recommended dishes that we shared. The first was a filet of ostrich and the second was chicken, doused in sundried tomatoes, pesto, and wrapped in ostrich. Both were out of this world amazing. We enjoyed dinner and stayed there a long time, making it to Mitchell’s around midnight. We had a few drinks and took cabs to Mercury, a club on Long Street. There were about 100 SAS kids there and just as many locals. This was my favorite night in South Africa- they played Blink 182 and Stacy’s Mom and a ton of throwbacks. We danced for hours and didn’t end up making it back until around 5 am.

Day 5: I was supposed to Shark Dive at 5:30 this morning but it didn’t work out because of the big swells. I was okay with that because I wouldn’t have gotten one minute of sleep if we had gone. So, after sleeping, I went with my friend Kylie and walked about the wharf, looking for something to do. We stopped at the tourist kiosks that sold skydiving, parasailing, shark diving, etc. trips. I wanted to skydive but Kylie didn’t want to so we ended up buying a helicopter ride! The price is not per person, but a total amount for each ride up and there are three seats in it so we invited our friend Tim on it… he is forever grateful. It was a half-hour flight and went all along the coast. It was definitely the best way to see this part of South Africa. The coastline is even more breathtaking from the sky. We even saw two sharks and a whale from above! After the helicopter trip, Kylie and I went to the mall to grocery shop and shop for clothes. I severely under packed so picking up a few items was essential. That night, we went to dinner with a big group at a sushi restaurant. It was right on the water and very nice, but I mistakenly ordered something that I didn’t really want so I stuck with blood orange mojitos (amazing)! We went to Mitchell’s for our last hurrah and SAS was out in force. We took over the bar and danced and sang karaoke all night. No one really wanted to leave to go to bigger clubs because Mitchell’s had become such a staple for us and we wanted to spend our last night there.  

Day 6: The next day I woke up thinking that I was going paragliding. However, Kylie had woken up much earlier and left to go shopping again so paragliding didn’t happen. I ran into my friends Alanna, Colby, and Kacie who I took a cab to the Long Street outside market with. We shopped for traditional trinkets, jewelry, and my favorite- the African kitchen items. We got lunch at a local café where I had an amazing Mexican burrito. I was a bit apprehensive because I didn’t even know South Africa had Mexican food but it was very good. We walked around for a while looking for hair salons because Kacie wanted to get dreads, but unfortunately we didn’t find one. We shopped at local boutiques, buying a few items by South African designers. Afterwards, we made our way back to the ship, stopping at Mitchell’s because I wanted to buy a sweatshirt from this port’s home base.

This blog post is not as detailed as Morocco and Ghana’s because I wanted to send it out soon and there is just too much to write. South Africa was so action-packed with so little sleep that I’m sure I’m missing a lot… the days all seem to run together. If you’re my friend on Facebook, I posted tons of pictures from Morocco, Ghana, and half of South Africa. I cannot wait to come back to this country, there is still so much that I want to do, including bungy jumping, shark diving, and hiking Table Mountain. The rich history, extent of activities, gorgeous landscape, and inevitable threat of criminal activity all lend hands to a society with an incredibly rich culture. I recommend visiting Cape Town to all people, in all walks of life as it has such a variety of experiences to offer. I just woke up from sleeping for a total of 13 hours and I still don’t feel quite caught up yet. We have 5 more days until Mauritius, where we only have one day. I’m going out on a catamaran to snorkel for the whole day. After that, we have 6 days before reaching India. I know that India is going to be an experience of a lifetime. I have a lot planned, all of which I can’t wait for. I’ll blog as soon as possible!

GHANA

When Americans speak about countries such as Ghana, after visiting or merely researching, it is how we cannot believe it’s really there. We cannot believe that so many people don’t have running water. We cannot possibly fathom how a relatively “well-off” citizen lives on fewer than three dollars a day. We say all this in disbelief that it exists; however, I have realized that it is instead an incredulity that it is in the same universe as the nation in which we are pampered. There are so many differences between first and third world countries, from continent to continent, and from one country to the next. It is immediately obvious how unfortunate many aspects of the lifestyles in Ghana are, but if you look hard enough, there are just as many factors that are more advanced than those of US citizens. I don’t know if it is just the culture, or that poverty and continuous drawbacks have made Ghanaians so appreciative and positive. Everyone smiles. They smile at each other, they smile at visitors, and they smile just to smile. They also wave- their need for human contact and mere recognition is extremely different than our culture’s. It is at times unnerving but nonetheless so impressive because they recognize the importance of umbuntu- everyone living together and sharing positive, loving energy. America is definitely a diverse melting pot but even when we see people that are clearly visiting from another country, we do not wave or go right up and say hello. In Ghana, it is custom to wave and smile and ask questions. Ghanaians also speak very highly of their culture, they love to explain their flag and the peaceful, happy, respectful nature of the country.

Day 1: Our port was in Tema, a town right outside of Accra. The port is a busy one, active with cargo and many people, which makes it dangerous. The regulations and safety precautions are minimal so having common sense walking to the entrance is crucial. Upon exiting, three friends and I got a taxi and bargained for a reasonable price to the hub and market of Accra. We wandered the streets, looking at all the carts of colorful jewelry and carved wood, searching for food that wouldn’t make us sick. The street merchants are good at what they do. They are extremely friendly, asking for your name and showing you around. Then, they seem to disappear, only returning a half hour later with a woven bracelet that says your name. They are extremely adamant that you buy it and anything else would be disrespectful. My first lesson in Ghana was to be slippery- to slide through the group and past people trying to hustle you. If you spend too long with anyone, they’ll expect something in return. There are many exceptions to this because talking to the locals is what is going to maximize your experience. Finding those that will not hassle you is key, so we did just that. There were two women with a little stand on the side of the road selling jewelry. Neither of them pulled on us or waved us over like we were a cab. They just smiled and waved. I liked their hard-to-get game and decided to play. Walking over, they just held out a hand and introduced each of themselves. We ended up staying and talking for a little while. There was a young boy and girl in the makeshift room behind the stand, both of whom were under the age of five. The boy was incredibly skinny and the girl look like she had a horrible cold. Heartbreaking. We bought jewelry from them and they tied a string of colorful beads around our hips for good luck. They gave us the real price, instead of doubling it for white tourists like most merchants do. So I gave them double, because they didn’t ask us for it or try and cheat us out of anything. We proceeded to lunch at a semi legitimate looking restaurant. After pounding Pepto Bismol, we realized that time was going to be the same here as in Morocco. The waitresses walked extremely slowly from table to table, stopping to chat and not taking our order for a very long time. This would not fly at the Beachcomber- let me tell you. We also went to La Pleasure Beach, a beautiful beach outside of Accra. It has little cafes on the sand with wooden tables to relax after a semi-stressful day. (Dad- it’s just like Playa Avellanas in Costa Rica). After a long day of haggling and bargaining, we made our way back to home sweet home on the ship in Tema. We showered and got ready to go out and see what Tema had to offer at nighttime. Most kids on the ship were going to a bar on the other side of Accra but we wanted to stay close to the ship because we had to be up super early for planned trips and the stories of the taxi drivers drinking from flasks as they drove scared us a little to much to count on getting a cab late at night. Immediately when leaving the ship, a local named Ben came up and helped us find a taxi. He bargained to get us a good price and took us everywhere we wanted to go. Those skeptical of Ben couldn’t figure out what his motive was but he ended up going with us every day in Ghana and never asking for anything. He just wanted to hang out with Americans and make sure we didn’t get ripped off. Anyways, that first night was very fun. There were about twenty Semester at Sea kids at the bar we went to, as well as locals. We learned that their country’s beer “Star beer” stood for “sitting, talking, and relaxing”, which seemed to be congruent with the country’s culture. We went dancing and had a lot of fun all night. Too much fun- that I paid for the entire next day.

Day 2: You haven’t experienced true pain and humiliation until you spend a four-hour bus ride on dirt roads infested with potholes, puking multiple times throughout the day in front of all your peers and teachers. Anyone who has ever been carsick and/or hungover knows what I’m talking about. I rallied and had a lot of fun in between the episodes of drama and disgust. I went on a SAS trip that went to the Cape Coast and saw the slave dungeons and castles. Years and years of social studies classes, learning about the slave trade and hardships that Africans had to go through, did not even remotely compare to what I learned and got out of this day. The dungeons were the size of about three or four of my freshman year dorm rooms- and housed one hundred men for months. In school, we are always taught about what happens to them when they reached the American Atlantic coast, and the ship conditions are touched on- but how they are captured and brought to the dungeons on the Western coast of Africa is never discussed. In my opinion, it looks like it was the worst here, before the journey even started. Even fathoming what that would have been like is extremely hard for me. The facts and figures are mind blowing but the actual feelings of what it must have been like don’t fully penetrate. Listening to a ten-minute talk inside each of the dungeons with one-fifth of the amount of people that once were held captive there was uncomfortable. It definitely put me in line. I had been aching and complaining all day, but the magnitude just didn’t even compare- and mine was self- inflicted. The Africans that told us about the history and what went on there discussed it with such a sense of truth and acceptance. In situations such as this, I think that it is easy to feel embarrassed as an American. However, they did not expect you to look at it like that. They approached it, in my opinion, correctly- that we were now all on the same page, all coming and grieving from the perspective that we’re all people and we all are horrified by what happened. We drove through small villages and saw neighborhoods and families of people whose lives are so different from ours. For some reason, there were a lot of times in Ghana that made me think about the same thing: I kept wondering why certain people are born into different circumstances. Everyone is born to different parents, in different countries, in different levels of poverty and lack thereof. Why are certain souls (or whatever you want to call it) given all the opportunities in the world while some starve before they reach the age of three? It’s a puzzling concept to me. I am not willing to accept that our entire lives are based on luck or coincidence. Our lunch was at a beautiful resort; the area was blocked off and looked like a wedding reception right out of magazine. We then headed back to the ship, escorted by police because we were clearly too good to sit through traffic. The general feeling of a lot of these organized trips was starting to get to me by now. I love how they’re organized and you see a lot of cultural things that you might not be able to if you tried to go about it on your own. However, they’re beyond pretentious. It probably would have been far more fun to pack lunches and walk the streets, talking with locals, then to have a pristine beachfront white tablecloth lunch with a snazzy buffet. And the police escort was hardly necessary. I would understand if it was for safety, but it was just to get us through traffic. As we passed through, they stopped all local cars so that we didn’t have to stop for lights, or heaven forbid, other cars. It’s such a phenomenon when Americans are in town, that we were even on the local news. Various taxi drivers as well as street merchants mentioned that everyone knew we were coming way ahead of time. All that day I said that I was going to stay on the ship, recover and go to bed early. That didn’t happen. We came home and had 45 minutes to eat and get ready. We took a taxi to La Palm Royal- a hotel right next to La Pleasure beach, where we had been before. A few friends of ours were splurging and got a huge villa with their own private beach and butler. A little extravagant for me but I was completely up for mooching off them. There was about forty SAS kids that just hung around at the bar and restaurant but it wasn’t exactly what my group was looking for. We can hangout and party with American kids any time back at home- but when are we going to be in Ghana again? So, with Ben’s help, we walked next door to La Pleasure beach where a huge Reggae festival was going on. It was packed with locals and set up to be a great night. Another thing about Ghana- most local women at bars do not have wholesome intentions. There are tons of prostitutes and if you try and innocently talk to them, their pimps will come ask you for money later. Beware! We headed back to the boat to get a few hours of sleep.

Day 3: My favorite day on Semester at Sea thus far- a SAS trip called “Mona Monkeys and Waterfalls”. I got on a bus and we started the trek towards the mountains. After a bumpy three hours, we stopped in a tiny village to start the hike. With a big group, whenever we reach the destination, there’s always a little lull where everyone stops and gets organized. People take pictures, use the restroom, and buy water bottles. If you know me at all, you know that I’m not the most patient of people. So I decided to skip this part and do a little on my own. If you know me, you also know that I’m nowhere near brave- so this was big. I left the group and walked into the little village to check it all out. Everyone was so friendly and welcoming and told me that no one usually stops to say hello- they just keep going to the trail. So, I just hung out and played with the kids for a while. No one had ever seen a camera before, let alone used one, so I let them take pictures of themselves and then turn it around and look at the product. They were extremely excited about this. I would lift the kids up and then spin in a circle until they laughed and screamed with joy. They started making a line and I just went through it, showing them how to high- five. Their mom asked me if I was married and when I replied in the negative, she just kept saying “Good mom, you would be good mom. Best mom” over and over. Five minutes later she made me promise not to leave and ran off, returning with her son. She introduced us and told me that I should marry him and take him back to America. He was great, but it was a short-lived relationship. I hugged everyone and made my way back to the group, who luckily had not left yet. We hiked up the trail, over footbridges through what was hands down the most beautiful scenery I have ever seen. There were centipedes and spiders galore but it was all so peaceful and majestic that the three-inch long spider didn’t even scare people too much. We made it to the waterfall and couldn’t believe it. It was huge, with a perfect pool at the bottom. There have already been so many sights such as this one that have made me think that everyone should be entitled to, and mandated to see them. One rule that we were all told upon arriving in Ghana: Do NOT swim in fresh water. You will probably get worms. They even showed us gruesome pictures of kids who did not heed their warnings and came back to the ship very ill. But come on- when are you going to swim in a waterfall in Ghana again? So… a few brave souls went for it. We changed and swam up to the fall, getting knocked over and slipping many times but just laughing and smiling the whole time. This experience was unlike anything I’ve ever done. I was completely aware at how dangerous it was and didn’t even care. It was totally outer body and thoroughly invigorating. We were aware that not very many people in the world could say that they have done this. I was lucky enough to have brought sandals in case my hiking shoes gave me blisters so I wore those in the waterfall in an effort to minimize contact with the wormy rocks. They flew off when we got close to the fall but magically floated and reappeared at shore. I will never forget this- ever- ESPECIALLY if I get tapeworm. We hiked back, soaking wet but smiling ear to ear. When we got back to the bus, I snuck off real quick to give a pen to one of the children I had met. I had heard that their favorite gifts are always pencils or pens and I had absolutely nothing else to give- except for the camera, which I definitely considered. The little girl was about seven and didn’t even know what a pen was. I wrote on my hand to show her and I have never seen anyone so amazed or happy. She shyly took it and ran to show her mom. Her mom thanked me over and over. Again, everything is relative. I lose pens frequently at school and don’t think twice about it but this cheap pen from Target was a monumental gift to them. We got back on our Indiana Jones bus and made our way to the monkey reserve. We got off and hiked through another village to a place where I thought we were going to see some monkeys. We saw a few. And then we saw five. And then ten. And then twenty. And then they were swinging from the branches to sit on our shoulders. Another rule SAS tells you: Do NOT touch monkeys. None of the monkeys are fully tamed and if they bite you, you are at a high risk for rabies. But c’mon- when will you hold a monkey again? The branches were swaying back and forth from their body weight as they leapt from one tree to the next, stopping to perch on our shoulders and arms. We were all given bananas and we held them out to the monkeys so they could eat them. They peeled them themselves- and quite politely. I was a little scared by the monkeys’ forwardness and didn’t feel too comfortable with them coming out of nowhere and making themselves at home on my arm but after awhile, I let a baby come sit on me and have a banana. (Mom- remember when you asked if the camels were cute? Camels are not cute. MONKEYS are cute.) We came back to the boat late that night and didn’t go out for the first time in a port. Most of the kids did but I stayed home with a friend that got food poisoning. I had no urge to go out- I had just had one of the best days of my lives and was more than content relaxing and going to bed while feeling this good.

Day 4: I was on self- proclaimed wakeup duty. I woke up early, ready to get the most out of our final day and most people were still sleeping… so I called the rooms and told them that the last bus before the afternoon was leaving in a half hour. We hustled and barely made it. We wandered the streets for a little while looking for an ATM and food. There was a restaurant that a girl had told me about the other day that had very local traditional food but that was also clean and wouldn’t make you sick. The combination is hard to come by, so we were on a mission. In getting there, we picked up two local guys who latched on in an effort to sell us bracelets. When we wouldn’t buy anything, they would shout “Fake Americans!”  Apparently most Americans spend a ton of money on trinkets after a little pressure. I had the name of the restaurant and was the one asking for directions and leading the way. Apparently, the Ghanaians had never experienced a female doing this, especially since our group of about ten was all guys, except for one other girl. They kept calling me Alpha Female, which turned into a lot of very inappropriate reasons why they love American women, etc. Let’s just say I have never been happier to be with so many guys. One friend told the two Ghanaians that he was my boyfriend and another said that he was my brother. They made it very clear that they were not allowed to communicate like that anymore. They didn’t go away but they did lay off a little bit. After a series of confused directions, we made it to the restaurant- Asanka Local. The menu was a little hard to navigate but I had heard that the most traditional dish in Ghana is Fufu. I asked what the most local way of preparing this dish was with groundnut soup and goat meat. So that’s what I got. Everyone else got chicken and rice- boring. I’m so glad that I got this because when I did, the locals all came over and taught me exactly how to eat it. It’s basically very spicy red soup with a huge ball of flavorless dough in the middle and two pieces of goat meat. The meat was way beyond my comfort zone and I didn’t have more than a bite of that. For the Fufu, you eat it with your hands, and specifically your thumb and index finger on your right hand. You pick off pieces of the dough from the side of the mound, towards the bottom, swirl it in the soup, and swallow it without chewing. I drank an entire large bottle of water because it was so spicy. By the end of the meal, most everyone had tried my dish. Also, I think that the locals respected us more for trying something that they had all the time. The two guys that had walked with us all the way to the restaurant took all of our leftovers, eating most of it and scooping the rest into a to-go bag. It looked like that had not eaten for days. He made me a bracelet, thanking me for showing Americans what Fufu was. I told him that I didn’t want a bracelet with just my name because that’s what everyone got, so he made one that says “Adwoa In Ghana”. Adwoa is my name in Ghana because of the day of the week I was born on- Monday. I found that a little funny because everyone’s “traditional” name in Ghana is the same as one-seventh of the rest of the population. Our group split up into two- half went to the market and half went to the hotel. I was a little disappointed in myself for going to the hotel but I knew I would spend too much money if I went to the market. I took a taxi with my friends Nick, Austin, & Willy to the La Palm hotel where we relaxed by the pool. The hotel pool is very fancy and Cabo-ish. The pool is circular with bridges and a swim-up bar. It wasn’t that busy so we were immediately approached and asked if we were from outside. The guys stuttered but I, from years of experience of hotel breaking and entering with my father, didn’t have a problem. I made up a room number and asked for towels. He apologized and brought us towels- I felt a little guilty… (but Dad, aren’t you proud?)  In the US, you need a wristband, an ID number, and about twenty other forms of identification to enter a hotel pool. I had taken advantage of how trusting they are here so I definitely did feel bad. We bought ridiculously expensive drinks to make up for it. We swam and talked about how fun Ghana had been for a few hours before heading back to the boat. When getting a taxi, we encountered the same problem that we had many times already. Taxis see your white skin and triple the price on the spot- it’s actually ridiculous. We waved a few on by when we heard what they were asking before finding a driver that one of the guys had been driven by the night before. We were so lucky to find him, and he didn’t rip us off too bad. We took a shortcut to avoid the traffic and went through some more villages, looking out the window, trying to take mental pictures of everything that was going on. We had never seen or imagined any of this merely days before and this might be the last time we see it again. It is so surreal to have experiences like this and I continue to be so grateful for them. We passed a huge party- it was about 4 pm and there were forty people from the ages of five to seventy-five dancing and singing. It looked like a lot of fun, but fairly out of place. We asked the driver what they were rejoicing about and he told us that it was a funeral. Someone had died and they were celebrating his life. This was a last great impression of Ghana, in my eyes. They were turning such a sad thing into something joyous. We told the driver what our funerals were like and he didn’t understand why- he believed that lives should be celebrated and he mentioned that when he passed, he wanted it to be a huge party. Take note: when I die (hopefully not from deadly worms or rabies), you all better be celebrating and partying because after this trip, this life is a damn good one.

BACK ON THE BOAT: NEPTUNE DAY!

Neptune Day is when we pass over the Equator. We knew that we were going to be passing over the 0 degrees line, but Ghana had been so crazy that it didn’t really occur to anyone that the day after boarding the ship was Neptune Day. Everyone was looking forward to sleeping in because this was the first non-port, non-class day to study and recover. Not so much… We were awoken by loud whistles and music at 8:00 am. We scurried up to the top deck by the pool for a ceremony that was clearly a big deal. The Captain (a very large, respected man) was wearing next-to-nothing and had painted his entire body green. The crew and staff were wearing toga-like getups and hats made of foil. There was a brief speech that consisted of us having to pay respect to the God called Neptune that apparently resided over the oceans and lived at the Equator. Afterwards, we stood in groups of four and got “fish guts” (that weren’t really fish guts) poured over us. Then, we jumped in the pool and climbed out. We had to bow to the King and Queen and kiss their rings, and then kiss a fish (that was very much real… and dead… and smelly). One out of every group was pushed into the pool and had to do the whole thing over again. Of course, I was the lucky one. Afterwards, the ritual we had all heard about began- the shaving of the heads. I’d say 80% of guys on this boat are now skinheads and 25 girls shaved their heads too! (I’ve worked on my mane far too long to get caught up in the moment and watch it drop off the side of a ship…) A few girls who previously had longer hair than I do and are now bald already look like they’re regretting it. There were a lot of tears. Afterwards, they turned the massive speakers up and we all danced for a few hours- students, teachers, deans, life-long learners- everyone was having so much fun.

If anyone’s reading this that knows someone in college looking to study abroad soon- DO THIS. It’s a money suck but it is hands down the best experience for someone our age. There’s nothing cooler to hear someone relive what they did in port or what they’re looking forward to doing in the next port. We talk about how lucky we are but I don’t even think that we fully understand. This ship and the ports and the students are all so amazing, that this blog will never do it justice. It’s only been two ports and I already know that travel is going to be much more important to me after this trip. The concept of saving up for clothes and cars is semi ridiculous to me now because I know that I’m going to be saving up for more experiential things like this.

Tonight I’m having dinner with my “extended family”. They randomly put together a group for you and mine is made up of four students and one lifelong learner- the students are all so different, which makes it awesome and our “Mom” is amazing. Three of her daughters went on this voyage a while ago and she’s always wanted to so she’s been trying to convince her husband for years. She finally just did it without him and is so happy she did- every time I see her, she is overjoyed and loving every minute. She hugs all of her “kids” whenever we run into each other and is constantly excited, as we all are. The energy on this ship is unreal and infectious. I have two tests and a presentation in the next two days in classes I have done zero reading for so today and tonight might actually have to be productive. OR I could go upstairs, read others’ journals, listen to stories, and look at pictures from all the villages, etc. Which do you think I’ll learn more from? Interesting, eh?

P.S. I think that I’ll have free internet in South Africa, so I’ll try to upload pictures and videos to facebook & my blog there.