Greetings from the Pacific ocean! We left Yokohama, Japan about 6 days ago and are almost at the halfway point of our 18 day crossing of the Pacific ocean. We will be making a one day stop in Hilo, Hawaii on the 9th day which happens to be Thanksgiving! Woo hoo! We hit rough seas from the moment we left Japan. We set sail around 00:00 Wednesday and at 02:00 I was woken up to my water bottle, alarm clock and other items flying off of my night stand and rolling around my cabin. Scared the shit out of me...couldn't fall back asleep after that. Its been fun though. It was comical to see everyone (myself included) trying to gain their sea legs. Friday things got really rough. People were walking into things and dropping things left and right. I even caught some sweet air at one point when I was running down the stairs.
I know I'm way behind on my blogs, but at this point I'm making up my entire semester in this 18 day crossing. To say that I'm overloaded with work is an understatement. So be patient. I am however enjoying this time on the ship since the last month was CRAZY to say the least. Between October 10 and November 15 I spent a week in India, a few days in Malaysia, a week in Vietnam, 2 days in Hong Kong, 4 days backpacking through mainland China and then backpacking through Japan. Sometimes we would only have 2 days in between these ports and those 2 days were school days. No time to catch our breath. Not to mention all the time zone changes as well. We just crossed the international date line. It is the only time (probably ever in my life) that I actually got a "do over" on a day. We had two Saturday November 19, 2011. We advanced the clock one hour but are no longer in the future (from eastern standard time) but now in the past. We went from being 16 hours ahead to 7 hrs behind. Weird, but it meant we got the day off! woo hoo! I'm enjoying spending a lot of quality time with my blankets and pillow in my cozy little cabin.
In all the craziness I forgot to mention a bit of news. Somewhere in between Mauritius and Malaysia our staff informed us of some disappointing news. The U.S. Treasury Department has still not issued our travel license for Cuba. Therefore they decided to add the alternate port of Santo Tomas De Castillo, Guatemala. Nothing against Guatemala but it was REALLY disappointing to find out that we were no longer going to Cuba. As an American citizen it is not every day we get offered a chance to visit Cuba, so a little bit of each one of us died in the union that night when we heard the news. Although they kept throwing the word YET in a lot...."The Treasury Department has not issued the travel license...YET." Maybe there's still a last minute chance? Just when we finally accepted the fact that we were going to Guatemala...field plans were made...trips requested....they threw in another curve ball. We just found out that the State Department has warned us against going to Guatemala due to the on going threats of violence and gang related incidents due to drug trafficking plaguing Mexico and most of Central America. Soooo we are no longer going to Guatemala...now we are going to Honduras. I don't know anything about Honduras but I guess I'm about to find out. Well I'm off to class! Talk soon! <3 "I"
Sunday, November 20, 2011
I'm no longer in the future, I'm now in the past.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Bonzour Mauritius!
**So, Mauritius happened between South Africa and India but I had to post the India video while I was in port so I apologize for the disorder.
Mauritius? “What/where is that?” That is the usual response I got from people when I would ramble off the list of countries I would be visiting during my voyage. Sad part was that I couldn’t really answer their question because I didn’t even know myself. In fact I had been pronouncing the name incorrectly up until the voyage (it is pronounced “Mo-Ri-Shus” by the way). Mauritius, or “I’lle Maurice” is an Island nation in the Indian Ocean just east of Madagascar. The people of Mauritius are predominantly of Indian decent, however the language spoken throughout the island is a French creole. The official language is English however but the lingua franca is Mauritian Creole. We arrived in Mauritius on a Monday night. We weren’t scheduled to arrive until the next day but due to a medical emergency we had to pick up the speed a day after we left Cape Town in order to get that person med vac to India. Don’t be too alarmed, it wasn’t life or death per say, but the person detached their retina and was in danger of losing their vision if something wasn’t done ASAP.
That evening a US Navy officer came onboard to give us a diplomatic briefing. Unfortunately for us although all of our passports were stamped that evening we weren’t allowed to leave the ship until the next morning…booooo! Especially since we would only be there for the day. Myself, Lauren and the ship’s photographer found out the hard way that Port Louis, the capital city, does not come alive until way after 9am. Trying to find breakfast in the city was major bust! Most people do not live in Port Louis but rather commute. We, at the point of being HANGRY, luckily found a street vendor who sold some really delicious pastries! My plans for the day were also a major bust. My friend and I had planned on hiking to the Victoria waterfalls and then vegging out and having drinks on Flic n Flac beach. Much to our disappointment buses did not run out to the area where we were planning to hike and taxis were, excuse my French, expensive as shit!!! $120 was the cheapest we could get. $60 (splitting the cost) was not in my budget for cab fare for one day. I don’t think I even spent that much collectively in my entire week in Cape Town! So future SASers and anyone else traveling to Mauritius beware…cabs are EXPENSIVE. You are better off if you go in a group of 5 and hire the taxi for the day. Otherwise I suggest taking the public bus which is what we did. We spent about $1 each way to Flic n Flac beach. We walked about 2 miles up the beach and had drinks at a random resort. Mauritius is a volcanic island. It is one of the most beautiful and picturesque islands I’ve ever been to. I’ve never been to Hawaii (will be there soon though!) but I imagine that’s what it looks like. It was a little tough communicating with people though. It was kind of weird too. They are Indian but they speak French…kind of. My attempts to speak French to anyone weren’t very successful. They didn’t understand my French and I didn’t understand theirs. They also did not understand my English. But eventually you will run into someone who understands. So no worries. We dipped in the Indian ocean and walked around and before we knew it, it was time to go. We made it back to Port Louis only to realize I still had all of my Mauritian Rupees. Oops. I went on a souvenir shopping spree with little time to spare. I got a ton of leather bracelets for a good price though….woo hoo! And then…the unthinkable happened. We were heading back in the water taxi 30 minutes before the on ship time of 18:00hrs. When we arrived we were surprised to find a 60 person deep line to get on the ship…fuuuuuck!!! 15 minutes to spare. For those who don’t know, if you are late to on ship time you get in big trouble and are punished by what’s called “dock time.” Dock time essentially means you have to stay on the ship for an allotted amount of time (first 15 min= 2 hrs of dock time and increases in 2 hr increments thereafter) at the next port while everyone else is out having fun. It also gives you negative points in the “behavior system” SAS has set up. If you lose enough points you get sent home. I swear the check in line/security has never moved slower. And of course, just our luck…we swiped in at 18:03….soooo guesss who’s getting dock time? This guy right here! Oh well, Mauritius was awesome and well worth it. I guess that’s 2 hrs less in India :/.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Friday, October 28, 2011
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Special Guest...
Saying goodbye to South Africa was a sad moment but exciting at the same time. We had an incentive to get back on the ship early. We had a VERY special guest speaker that night before we set sail: Nobel Peace Prize winner and Semester at Sea Alumni (he and his wife have sailed on two SAS voyages) Archbishop Desmond Tutu! He walked into the Union to a standing ovation. He provoked laughter as he mentioned that being back on the ship (“not boat” hahaha !inside SAS joke) the M/V Explorer felt “weird” like “being back home. And you come home and see all these strange people and think…what are you all doing here!? ” Archbishop Tutu is a charismatic man with a contagious laugh and most importantly a contagious heart. He spoke to us for 1/2 an hour and left us with this message: “Go for it. Be as idealistic as you ever can be. Dream that this world CAN actually be a better world. Dream that this world can be one where we are going to say IT IS a total nonsense IT IS actually a sacrilege that we can spend so much on instruments of death and destruction when we could be using it investing it in making this a better world. And so I say go on dream it. Dream. Dream God’s dream. Be as idealistic as you ever could be. Go for it. Go for it. God has no one except you….Didn’t I tell you? You are Aaaawesome!”
South Africa
Friday September 23, 2011. The day I had been longing for since I got on the ship. At 6:00am I headed up to the 7th deck observatory to witness the sunrise as we approached Cape Town. The sun peaked over the mountains on the port side of the ship and directly ahead Table Mountain was illuminated, the Mother City below it. We had officially arrived to South Africa, the “Rainbow Nation.” How fitting that a rainbow was painted in the morning sky above us. It was a sign of the beautiful things to come. We pulled into port at the Victoria and Alfred Waterfront. This was much different than the previous two ports we called home. The V & A Waterfront is a luxurious westernized shopping and entertainment complex. Anything and everything we ever wanted or needed was out our fingertips. No taxis, no traveling involved. It was a blessing and a burden. A blessing because we had internet access everywhere, we could have lunch or go grocery shopping and walk right back on the ship but a burden because I feel it took away from getting to know locals in their environment like we had done in previous ports. Either way it was a fun and beautiful place to call home and it had the most breathtaking view. The port and its emerald water surrounded the ship. Seals played just below us as we ate breakfast on the deck. The waterfront was our neighborhood and in the background Table Mountain towered over all of it. I explored the waterfront on my first day before a scheduled FDP to the South African Parliament. The first thing that became evident was there was a fever going around…Springbok fever that is! The 2011 World Cup of Rugby was going on and the South African team, the Springboks had dominated their game 89-0 (or something ridiculous like that) the night before we got there. Everyone was wearing green and gold even our tour guide at parliament later that day was wearing his Springboks jersey to work. I had just watched the movie “Invictus” the night before so it didn’t take long before I caught the fever and bought some Springboks gear for myself. Plus it filled a large void in my life…I miss NFL Football! Aaah! LoL. That afternoon I had one of the most rewarding experiences of my trip so far. I had and FDP to the office of the Commission for Gender Equality of South African Parliament. It was a very intimate and relaxed meeting between Advocate Kamraj Anirudhra, Attorney Swasthi Anirudrah and about 10 students including myself. They talked to us about the Republic of South Africa as a constitutional democracy, the make up of their parliament, and the role of the Commission for Gender Equality in parliament. It was interesting to find that a country that had been torn apart by Apartheid a little over 17 years ago has made so much more progress in terms of equality than the U.S. has in its history. For example the Civil Unions Act, which allows for legalized same sex marriage or the Childrens Act which gives same sex partners the right to legally adopt children both of which we are still fighting for and yet to see in the U.S. They are also responsible for overseeing and defending individuals on such matters under the Domestic Violence Act, Employment Equity Act, or Sexual Offences Act just to name a few. I was brought back to reality the next day when I discussed with my guide how happy and amazed I was with the laws on equality in South Africa. He reminded me that just because the laws exist it doesn’t mean people agree with or follow the laws. Sooo true. ::frown:: However, I would have to argue that having those laws in writing is one step further in the right direction than we will ever be in the U.S.
That evening I pondered everything I learned that day over Old Wobbly beer at Mitchell’s Pub at the V & A Waterfront. Cape Town was a place of indulgence for me, for all of us. A month of ship food will drive you insane. We all fulfilled our alcohol and sushi cravings that night. I called it an early night as I had organized a bike and wine tour in the Stellenbosch wine region for the following day. Plus it was too damn cold and windy that night to want to do anything! Ali, Lauren, and I along with 12 other SAS students woke up the next morning at the butt crack of dawn for the bike and wine tour. One of our tour guides, Luke, met us on Long Street where we left from and headed to the train station. After a 40 minute train ride we arrived in beautiful Stellenbosch. Across the tracks from us we could see the mountains and the lush green surroundings of the wine lands. South Africa was just entering into its spring and not only was the perfect weather a testament to this but the plethora of flowers blooming in every which way made it even more evident. We arrived at the Bikes ‘N Wines compound where another guy set us up with our bikes and helmets for the tour. I was hoping this guy was Quintin, the guy I had been e-mailing back and forth with for a little over a month organizing the tour. I hoped it was him not only to finally put a face to the emails but because as it turns out he was very easy and entertaining on the eyes. Just saying. Anyway, back to the story. I walked over and introduced myself and indeed it was him. We were all getting ready to head out when he asks the group…”does anyone here not know how to ride a bike?” I thought it was a joke, I mean who would sign up for a BIKE and wine tour if they didn’t know how to ride a bike? Much to my surprise my Panamanian friend Sofia raised her hand. “Wait, what? Really?” Yup, true story. After a short tutorial from Quintin, Sofia learned how to ride a bike that day…on trails…across the wine lands...tipsy on wine and brandy. I’m still astonished by this. If I wasn’t there to witness this myself I would call “bull shit.” Sofia is my hero! We made our way to the Spier winery for our first wine tasting. I was ecstatic. When else other than tailgating at a Dolphin’s game would drinking alcohol at 9:30am be totally socially acceptable? Spier was by far my favorite of the tastings we went to. They had a cozy little outdoors porch covered by plants and vines above. We started off with my favorite the Methode Cap Classique (a South African sparkling wine made by the traditional Champagne method.) It was light and crisp and the perfect way to cool down from the early morning sun. We continued on with a couple more whites (all delicious by the way) before switching to reds. We started with a Pinotage which is exclusive to South Africa. Can’t say I met a wine I didn’t like while I was at Spier. I definitely plan on buying some from Total Wines when I get back to the U.S.! We are not allowed to bring alcohol on the ship and shipping it back home would have cost me about $250 U.S. dollars. Bummer. I will have to hold my cravings until December. I couldn’t have been more excited than for our next part of the tour…the cheetah sanctuary!!! I got to hang out, pet, and take pictures with “Pedro” the cheetah. Ali, Lauren, and I were brought into his pen, but I was the only one who got to hang out with him because he decided to get up and roam around which meant we had to leave the area ASAP. We exited his pen and Ali and Lauren ended up hanging out with Pedro’s brother Phoenix who was a little less active. After the cheetah sanctuary we made our way to the Van Ryn Brandy distillery. It was quite the ride with beautiful scenery of mountains, rivers, and vineyards all along the way. Brandy is not my adult beverage of choice. So I struggled a bit. However I did down the DELICIOUS fruit juice infused welcome cocktail like it was my job! We had 2 different vintages of brandy a 10 year and a 15 year. I will say I enjoyed them a lot more when I learned the proper way to drink them. But it still didn’t stop the burning on the way down. At this point I was starting to get a buzz. We had not eaten lunch yet and we had been biking and drinking all morning. It was then that Quintin suggested we all head out to the next place for lunch. Buuut, I wasn’t allowed to leave without at least finishing one of the goblets of brandy because it was “unacceptable.” “Oh man, how am I going to do this?” I thought to myself. “I don’t know if I can do that” I said to everyone at our table. Well I tried and I did it, I gulped down the 15 year brandy. I could feel it burning the whole way down as I grew chest hairs and my voice deepened about 18 octaves. Wooo! I’m sure the look on my face said it all and the grin and evil look on Quintin’s face said the rest. I was tricked. Quintin, you are an evil man. Haha. I was definitely guilty of “biking under the influence” after that. We biked our way over to the final winery, Vredenheim. Seeing Zebras and Ostriches on a farm on the way. Before the tasting we had lunch at their restaurant “ Barrique Restaurant and Brewery.” Brewery being the key word here…so of course I had to try their beer! It was awesome and so was the pizza I had there. I could’ve gone for traditional South African food or Malay food but of course after a few drinks who doesn’t want pizza? It honestly was one of the best I had in a while. They did however take forever to bring mine out and they compensated me by sending over a glass of champagne! Trouble. Because my pizza took forever we were running short on time. We had to be gone in a few minutes to catch the last train back to Cape Town. So our last wine tasting turned into taking shots of wine. I was just taking a sip of the first wine when the next wine was already there ready for me. Good times. Lets just say I was a lot of fun on the train back home. Our bike and wine tour was by far one of the highlights of our trip to SA. Later that night the group met back up at Mitchell’s for dinner and more “tastings.” This time it was of “Springbok” shots and “African Toilets.” Later my friend joined us and introduced me to Savanna Dry, my new favorite apple cider. Sorry Strongbow! You just don’t compare anymore. It was a solid day/night but the one thing I will never forget was driving up to Table Mountain in the middle of the night with my friend. He turned off the car, the lights and introduced me to a whole new side of Cape Town. I could see hundreds of thousand of twinkling lights as the city lay silent beneath me. I still get goose bumps thinking about how awesome that was. A few hours later though I would be seeing the entire Western Cape from a whole new point; 9,000 ft in the air jumping out of a perfectly good plane. Yes I went sky diving in South Africa. The view from the plane was A-mazing. You could see Robben Island, hundreds of miles of white sand beaches, clear blue water and of course Table Mountain. I was the lucky chosen one (insert sarcasm here) to jump out first. My instructor sat me next to the door. So the entire ride up in this sardine can of a plane I was leaning against a clear rolling door. I don’t know how I kept my cool the entire time, but I did. That was until we reached 9,000 feet and they rolled up the door. My heart sank into the pit of my stomach. I got strapped in and almost immediately my instructor gave me the command to hang my feet out of the airplane. I was telling my body to do one thing and my brain was telling it another. I couldn’t move. My roommate Ali says the fear on my face scared her…lol. Eventually my body listened to me and my feet made it over the side of the plane. I was numb at that point. I was afraid if I sat too far forward I would fall out of the plane before my guy was ready. My purple and neon green sneakers hung out side the plane like kites in the wind. Then I heard the words…”are you ready?” and within seconds, Rob, the instructor pulled my head back and jumped. It took about half a second for me to realize what was happening. And then THAT feeling hit me. It was the worst and best feeling I have ever felt all at the same time. If you’re lucky maybe someday you will watch the DVD of my jump and you can make fun of me like everyone else on the ship has done for giving a play-by-play commentary on the jump. Anyway, once the parachute opened it was a smooth ride down. Rob let me steer and we did some spirals on the way down. Ali, Sara and I all had perfect landings. Sunday was all about pushing myself to the limits. Immediately after jumping we returned to the ship where Ali and I changed and headed out to hike Table Mountain. I knew the hike up the Platteklip Gorge Trail wasn’t going to be easy but I never imagined it would be as physically taxing as it was. It is honestly one of the most physically challenging things I’ve done in a long time, if not maybe ever. About 30 minutes in I thought I was about to have a heat stroke even though I had taken every precaution to protect myself. It was the hottest day we had on our 6-day stay. Not a cloud in the sky and as dry as could be. The afternoon sun was punishing. But Ali and I pushed on. About an hour into the vertical climb I hit and passed my wall. I was golden after that! We took a few breaks in between but I’m proud to say Ali and I made it to the top of Table Mountain in 2 hours and 5 minutes and just in time for sunset. The panoramic views from the top were worth every bit of pain I endured on the hike up. On one side the sun was setting and clouds were below us covering the beach town of Camps Bay. On the other side we had a clear view of the entire city of Cape Town and the coastline. We could make out the M/V Explorer as a dot somewhere in the waterfront area. That night Ali, Sara and I treated ourselves to a fancy dinner at Karibu at the V & A Waterfront. I had the most A-mazing Ostrich filet. Tastes like steak. I also tried a piece of Springbok shank. Not my fave but not terribly bad. The next day we had a girl’s getaway to Cape Point. It’s where the Atlantic Ocean and Indian Ocean meet. It was far from the ship so we hired a taxi driver for the day and split between Sara, Ali, Nikki, Lauren and I. Our cab driver was Waldeen, the coolest dude ever! I’m positive we changed his life. He will never be able to hear Katy Perry or Bruno Mars without thinking of us singing at the top of our lungs windows down and changing the lyrics to include his name in every song. What a lucky guy! Haha. He made our journey to Cape Point memorable. We stopped for pictures in Hout Bay and he even took us the Scarborough route to the park because I mentioned my friend Jason who I met back in the states owns a house there. On our way up to Scarborough Sara somehow spotted a whale breaching in the ocean next to us. Waldeen stopped and allowed us to whale watch for a while. We were like 2 yrs old seeing a puppy for the first time. Eventually we made it to Cape Point. Its one of the most picturesque places I’ve been to. The two oceans separated by mountains which were blooming with flowers in some places and a quaint light house in the middle. On the way back we stopped at Boulder’s Beach or as some like to call it “the penguin beach.” Yes, that’s right. We got to see Penguins up close and personal in their natural habitat. They are sooooo cute! Ok, enough of that. On the way back to the ship we of course serenaded Waldeen with his all time favorites, “Grenade” by Bruno Mars and “Firework “ by Katy Perry. Unfortunately the following day was our last in the place we had all began to feel at home at. We saved the best meal for last. The best burgers ever at Royale Eatery (I think that was the full name of the place) on Long Street. My friend Andrew spent some time in South Africa last year during the world cup and suggested I go there while I was in town. He wasn’t joking. Best burgers, best shakes. We all still talk about that meal until this day. Thank you Andrew Eppes. You have changed our lives forever. Nothing will ever compare to my “Miss Piggy” ostrich burger. To make the meal even more memorable, guess who “randomly” showed up at the end of the meal to pick us up? That’s right, Waldeen! We had one last Katy Perry session before saying our final goodbyes to Waldeen and to beautiful, amazing, exhilarating Cape Town.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Ghana-rhea
Get your sick minds out of the gutter. I'm not talking about an STD. This is the title of a real journal entry from my personal journal. It depicts my disparity during a week long bout with gastritis between Ghana and South Africa. I fell deathly ill my last day in Ghana because my malaria pills were destroying my stomach. In a 5 day period I was only able to keep down a couple of crackers and a few small sips of water. I lost about 7 pounds before arriving in Cape Town. Don't be alarmed, I've gained those Lbs and then some back between Cape Town and India! Haha. Well, anyway enjoy!
Tuesday September 20, 2011.
Gastritis blows!
Malarone + spicy Ghanaian food= death in my stomach!
I've never been so happy that the toilet and the sink in my bathroom are so close together. I've also never been more miserable in my life.
After 5 days of no food, the carb infested ship's dinning room has become my b.f.f.
Dr. Phil put me on the B.R.A.T.T. diet: Bread, Rice, Applesauce, Toast, Tea.
After an involuntary 5 day fast the chicken burger with cheese from the 7th deck grill and french fries are the best food EVER.
We finally hit rough seas. 3304= the worst cabin ever. Being at the bow of the sip is rough. It sounds like we are being bombed. I caught some sweet air while I was sleeping last night. New cabin soon? UVA I'm looking at you!
Remember, Malarone= death....I'd rather have Malaria!!!!
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Ghana
AKWABA! “Welcome” to Ghana. We arrived in Tema, Ghana on Tuesday September 13, 2011. Like in Morocco we were berthed at a busy industrial port. The port of Tema is one of the busiest ports in West Africa. They provide imports to neighboring countries such as Cote D’ivoire, Burkina Faso and Togo. We were greeted with great hospitality and appreciation in this country. Even now thinking of Ghana the one thing I remember the most is the warmth of the people and the smiling faces that waved to us everywhere we went. Shuttle buses were provided from the port of Tema to the capital city of Accra, which is about 19km away. Lauren and I hopped on to the first shuttle into town. Infrastructure in Ghana is not the greatest. The simple 19km drive from Tema to Accra can take well over an hour in the busy morning hours. Because of this and as an extension of their hospitality Ghanaian authorities insisted on escorting our shuttles to the city and any other fieldtrips taking place in their country. Police motorcades lead the way and parted traffic for us like the Red Sea. Military personnel blocked intersections and redirected traffic. It was crazy. We were like rock stars. Although it was flattering and a cool experience it was just plain weird. When traveling I like to blend in with the locals as much as possible. This was not helping the cause. During the drive to Accra we got our first taste of West Africa. Poverty like we had not seen in Morocco. We drove by the “districts” just outside the port. They were townships saturated with people living in shacks. These housed some of the workers from the port and surrounding areas. The living conditions were shocking to some to say the least. We arrived in Accra just on the edge of the city of Osu. Before getting off of the bus the tour operator gave us some words of advise: “Not all smiling faces mean well. Not everyone who offers to be you friend is your friend.” As soon as we got off of the bus we were rushed by a group of young men trying to sell us anything from bracelets to artwork to drums. But their sales tactics were the complete opposite of the aggressive variety that I encountered in Morocco. In Ghana they ask your name and become your “friend” in a heartbeat. They give you the Ghanaian handshake (where they hold your hand and then snap with your finger tips at the end) and hugs all around. The guys with the bracelets ask you for your name and within a minute they have a bracelet made with your name on it. They offer it to you as a “gift.” Come on, we all know better. NOTHING in life is free. The tactic here is guilt. They “befriend” you and guilt you into buying things. Fatima didn’t fall for it. ;) After ditching the sales guys and the rest of the SAS crew I was a woman on a mission. My original plans in Ghana were to volunteer at an orphanage but unfortunately that opportunity fell through. After asking around on the ship I found out about an orphanage in the city of Osu. I found directions from locals who insisted Lauren and I take a taxi. We refused to and braved the African sun on a 30-minute walk through Osu to the orphanage. We observed locals on their regular Tuesday afternoon routine. Osu was a mixture of mostly middle class homes and some poorer areas. After asking around we eventually arrived at the orphanage where I would have the biggest disappointment of my life. No, it wasn’t because they would not let me in and play with the children. It was because of the events that would follow and the disturbing information I would later learn from a German student volunteering there. Upon arrival I was informed that I couldn’t visit with the children because I had not been “profiled.” That was totally understandable. However I had it on my heart to leave the school supplies I brought for the children. They had me fill out information in a logbook. I had to write my name and contact info and list what I was leaving. The women who “managed” the orphanage were miserable and did not seem at all thankful or pleased with the fact that I was donating supplies. Lauren pointed out that I was one of few people leaving supplies instead of money. On my way out we met a German student volunteering and working on a research project there. She took us on our first “tro tro” ride to a spot on Tawala beach for lunch. It was the best meal I had in Ghana! Grilled chicken with vegetable rice and freshly made pepper (hot sauce) that had my insides burning for the rest of the day…mmm. Over conversation I found out that this particular orphanage where we met was a governmental institution that was in danger of being closed down because of the crooked employees working there. The employees had been taking advantage of donations coming in and pocketing it for themselves. Mean while 8 children, 2 from the house in which our friend worked died because they were not provided BASIC medical attention they needed. Perhaps the money these government employees pocketed for themselves could have saved 8 lives. Unfortunately we witnessed the negative effects of globalization. It was obviously easy to find this particular orphanage because they were a government institution but it also made it easy for greedy people to take advantage of their popularity. There is no reason why 8 innocent children should’ve died. They took advantage of the fact that no one would ask questions since these children belonged to nobody. As a global citizen you are moved by your anger and concern for the remaining children. But at the same time dealing a with a governmental institution, especially one which is not your own government, makes you realize your limitations. Being aware of situations such as these are a blessing and a burden all at once. Perhaps being aware and passing the word around may eventually get something done. In the mean time you are left feeling helpless and incompetent. If Morocco was a place of growth and new strengths for me, Ghana most certainly was a place of revelation, contemplation and unanswered questions. This couldn’t have been truer then on the next day when I had a Faculty Directed Practica (FDP) with Semester at Sea for my Linguistics class to the slave castles and dungeons of Elmina and Cape Coast. In the US we all learn about slavery and the Middle Passage. Our country’s history is a testament to the horrific truth of slavery and human trafficking. But no textbook, movie, or documentary could ever convey accurately the conditions and disparity in which millions of African people who were forced into slavery lived in. Imagine sharing a cell with hundreds of people at one time. Now imagine having to use the bathroom and not having any way of telling the person chained to you that you need to move to relieve yourself because you don’t speak the same language. The language barriers slaves encountered weren’t solely between them and their European captors but also between them and fellow slaves. We must remember that these people came from different tribes from all over Africa. Some of them who would have never met or had any reason to communicate if it wasn’t for the fact that they were both forced into this unfortunate situation. They lived in the most deplorable inhumane conditions you could possibly imagine. Lines on the walls of the cells mark the height of which human feces would pile up to. The size of the cells and the way they were enclosed were enough to make anyone claustrophobic. As if that wasn’t startling enough our tour guide Alex further explained the monstrous things such as death chambers and rape that went on inside the castle. The same held true at our second tour at the Cape Coast Castle.
I found it ironic that at both of these places there were churches and all kinds of biblical verses engraved on signs around the properties. I don’t see how these people could call themselves Christians or even more importantly call themselves human for the atrocities they were a part of. The visit to the castles/dungeons was a powerful thing and it left me asking myself a lot of questions. I kept envisioning hundreds of people being herded like cows on to ships walking out of the “door of no return.” I was fortunate to make the symbolic walk back in through that door. But what about those who didn’t? Through out our tours we would find wreathes in different chambers of the dungeons. Our guide explained that these wreathes were left by African Americans, Afro-Caribbean and other people who traced their roots back to Africa. They left the wreathes as a sign of respect and condolence for their ancestors. For the first time it raised a question that I had never asked myself. Did my ancestors make that walk out of the “point of no return?” Growing up I was always intrigued by my Asian background, but I never questioned my Afro-Caribbean family history. My father’s mom after all was an Afro-Caribbean woman. This experience made me want to ask a billion questions about my background. The next day I found an internet café in Osu and I questioned my mom about it over Skype. My mind was racing. I was thinking about my family history and our ties to Africa. Then my thoughts would shift to asking myself about humanity and how we were capable of doing such evil things such as slavery and pocketing money from an orphanage. Lots of questions. Little answers. My mood changed and I was brought back to earth as I spent the rest of the afternoon visiting with locals we had met the first day in Osu. First Lauren and I visited Miriam, she was a sweet loving young seamstress we met walking the streets of Osu on our way back from the orphanage. I stopped in to look at some of the clothes she was selling. Upon arriving at her kiosk on the side of the road she literally dropped everything she was doing and ran over to Lauren and hugged her. She had the warmest welcoming spirit. I knew from day one I would come back and buy one of her pieces. I bought a beautiful Kente skirt from her. I could’ve tried to bargain with her, but I didn’t. She deserved every cedi. We chatted and said our goodbyes, as I knew I wouldn’t be coming back to the city before leaving Ghana. Just as we were walking away we encountered another local woman we met on day one. Gertrude. Oh Gertrude was a character! Gertrude called us over and asked us what we had learned about her country so far. We sat outside the little shack where we first met her and talked for HOURS. She reprimanded us for not learning more about her country and more about the real issues plaguing her country and her people. She insisted we should’ve visited the courts and other governmental institutions; we should’ve met with a village chief and watched local women making fufu. We had no control over any of those except for the latter. Gertrude grabbed our hands and lead us down an alleyway where she asked a group of women if the fufu for the day was done. They led us to the elder woman of the house who was sweet enough to show us how she pounded and shaped the doughy root paste into fufu. It was one of the coolest experiences we had that day. The conversations got more interesting as the afternoon went on. Gertrude asked us questions about our lives. What was life like on the ship? What were we studying? What was life in the United States like? What religion did we follow? And the most important question of the day, what were marriage traditions like? She was astonished to find out that there were no lists or special requirements in order for a man to marry a woman. In Ghana, as she explained if a man is interested in marrying a woman the family of the men has to have dinner with the woman’s family. The woman is not allowed to be there. In the mean time if the families approve of the relationship, the woman’s family provides the man and his family with a list of things they must provide. This generally consists gold jewelry, 12 pairs of underwear, pots and pans, and in olden days a bottle of an alcoholic beverage made from distilled palm wine called “Akpeteshie.” Lauren and I were equally astonished to find out that they had this list. Taking notes, my future husband will have to abide by this Ghanaian tradition! ;). We continued chatting until the sun went down. We had to start heading back in to Accra for dinner and to try to catch the last shuttle back into the port. We invited Gertrude to have Chinese food with us for dinner and she even accompanied us to do some grocery shopping. She walked us back to Citizen Kofi, a Ghanaian club/lounge that had been lending its facilities to us as our meeting point and shuttle station. They were throwing a going away celebration for SAS that night. We said our goodbyes to Gertrude although she was ready to stay and party. Originally we had no intentions of staying at the celebration but the shuttle never showed and in waiting we met some new friends through some of the SAS staff. Their names were Charles and Jacob, or “Naro” his soccer nickname (Hi guys!!! I know you’re reading this!). They were local guys about our age who had befriended the ship’s photographer earlier in the day. We sat on the 4th floor balcony of this establishment over looking the city of Accra taking it in for the last time. We all got to know each other and Jacob shared with me that he played soccer for a Ghanaian soccer club and is working his way up to playing for the national team! (Go Jacob! You can do it!) He even invited us to come watch a game or practice, but we were leaving the next day. They asked about our experiences in Ghana. We ranted and raved about the amazing people we had met and the hospitality we received. We asked them if the locals hated us yet for all the police escorts and screwing up their traffic. We laughed about it among other things. I shared with the table my experience at the slave castles and dungeons and how powerful it had been for me. I then confessed to them how I questioned my African ancestry for the first time in my life due to the experience. Charles and Jacob both jokingly called me a “disappointed African.” It was a joke and we all laughed, but it really made me think…was I a disappointed African? Had I purposely shied away from those roots? More questions. Less answers. One thing that was for sure though was that everyone at the table agreed we had all enjoyed our time in Ghana so much we wanted to come back. We made a pact to come back within the next couple of years. Not just as tourists but to contribute to this growing country, this beautiful country full of resilient people that welcomed us with enthusiastic waves, the most beautiful smiling faces and sincere hearts. Medase Ghana! We will miss you!
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Delay...
Hello from the Indian Ocean! We left Cape Town last night and are off the coast of South Africa en route to Mauritius. I apologize for the delay in posting my blogs. The internet situation on the ship is not ideal for what I had in mind. Emails are free but with lots of size restrictions. Internet is not free otherwise and even if I paid for it our internet is primitive aboard the M/V Explorer. I figured out how to email my blogs, hopefully the previous one went through (it was quite lengthy). It's too bad I can't post pictures, but I plan to add them later on while in port. In the mean time please feel free to email me on my shipboard email. It's always nice to get emails from back home since it's the only way to communicate. Love you and miss you all! <3 Ionna
Here's my ship Email address: imhernandez@semesteratsea.net
Morocco
FATIMA. That is my Moroccan name and one I will take with me forever. A sense of sadness came over me as we pulled away from the Port of Casablanca. Its funny, because 3 days earlier I couldn’t wait to leave! I knew this voyage would change me as a person and that I would build character along the way, but I never thought Morocco, our first port, would be the place to break me down and build me back up. I thought India or maybe our next port Ghana, but life had other plans. We arrived in Morocco at sunrise and after a quick diplomatic briefing I headed out on a SAS tour of Casablanca and interior visit of the Hassan II Mosque. It’s breathtaking, truly a one of a kind. France has the Eiffel tower, Morocco has the Hassan II Mosque. Definitely worth visiting. After my tour I returned to the ship to change and grab my backpack before heading to Marrakech with a few friends independently. I came back to find out a friend of ours had been robbed. My heart broke for him. The emptiness in his eyes and look of despair across his face is a sight I won’t forget anytime soon. His experience reminded us to keep our guards up, and we were going to need them. After getting ripped off on our first cab ride we made it to the train station to catch the “Marrakech Express. “If you’re traveling by train in Morocco its worth paying for the 1st class tickets, which we failed to do on our first ride. This really put things into perspective. You’re not in America anymore. It’s an “eat or be eaten” culture. People will push you around like rag dolls or jump in front of you to get what they need or want. They’re not being rude, it’s just the survival instinct. Step up and play the game their way or you will be left behind or taken advantage of. Unfortunately we all learned this the hard (and traumatizing) way later that night. After pushing and following some fellow [British] backpackers (Hi Natasha and Steven!) my friend Lauren and I managed to get a seat in one of the compartments. We chatted with our new friends and it turns out they were staying in the same hostel in the old Medina. They gave us directions before we all went our separate ways. Lauren and I found the rest of our group and headed out of the station to catch a taxi. The taxi drivers were like Great White Sharks and our group of 7 girls were a pack of injured seals just asking to be devoured in the wide open ocean of Marrakech. It was this moment that would dictate the outcome of that evening. After getting ripped off once again, the cab driver dropped us off in front of an old clay arch which was an entrance to the old Medina. However, it was not the correct entrance we had asked to be dropped off at according to our directions. Not only that, but I see our driver wave down two guys at the entrance. “We’ve been sold out” I told our friend Monica. Sure enough as we walked into the medina the two men started following us around. You have to be really careful with fake tour guides in Morocco. They will pretend to be nice and show you around or help you find your way, but in reality all they want is your money or other things in return. If you don’t give them what they want they will get nasty with you and may rob you, physically or sexually assault you. We told them time and time again we did not want them to “help” us. We asked a shop owner for directions. The language barrier became evident. Although Monica and Lauren spoke Arabic and I speak enough French to understand and defend myself we couldn’t communicate. The language in Morocco is not classic Arabic but a combination of Arabic, French and native Berber. Most educated people speak French which would come to my advantage later on. So here we are lost in the Medina at night. No idea where we’re going. The passage ways in the medina are like a maze of arteries leading to the pits of hell. They are dark clay alley ways, some covered like tunnels and without lights. There is garbage, cat and human urine everywhere and random doors in the clay walls. Every which way we walked men were harassing us and following us around. It was starting to become overwhelming especially now that we had been lost for almost an hour. The fake tour guides are now getting aggressive and cursing at us. We told one we did not want “help” because we had no money to pay him. He insisted we “give him sex.” If that wasn’t scary enough out of nowhere a crazy man comes around punching things and people and punched Lauren in the back with all his might. I couldn’t believe it. At this moment I began to break down. A shop owner came out and said he would help us. I didn’t believe anyone anymore at this point but for whatever reason we trusted him. We start following him down the maze of tunnels. My heart was in my throat. With every step we took the shadier the situation became. Right then and there I had the most horrific feeling I had ever felt before. The feeling I knew for sure I was going to get murdered, rapped, and or sold into sex slavery. It wasn’t a fear, it was a for sure thing. At this point I was broken down to nothing. I could see the fear on everyone else’s face as well. “This is it” I thought as we approached what seemed to be a dead end. Headlines ran across my mind…”6 US Students, 1 Hong Kong student disappear in Marrakech.” I just closed my eyes and prayed. The alley was not a dead end just a sharp turn and about 50 feet in front of us there was an old giant wooden door that read: EQUITY POINT HOSTELS, Riad Amizir. THANK GOD!!! We arrived, alive and kicking but definitely all shooken up. Needless to say I did not want to leave the 4 walls of our hostel and if I did it would only be to go back to the ship and get the fuck out of Morocco! Inside it was comforting to see that our friends from the train Natasha and Steven had made it safely as well. They invited Lauren and I to join them for dinner once we got situated. It took some convincing but I agreed. As I walked in past the lobby I was pleasantly surprised to find the most beautifully preserved riad was our home for the weekend. It was a majestic 4 story mansion with an open center court with a pool in the middle. The dark night sky was above painted with a million twinkling stars. My mood automatically changed. It was the first time I had smiled in a few hours. Maybe this place wasn’t so bad after all. Moroccans are big on modesty and this place helped me understand that. Plain on the outside, spectacular on the inside. After freshening up Lauren and I braved it out with Natasha and Steven to find the souks and eventually the world famous Djemaa el Fna square. Along the way we found a different side of the medina. It was well lit and thriving with people. There were endless shops in every direction you looked. On our way to find somewhere to eat we stopped and had some pastries. They were piled by the hundreds in a sea of greens and browns and beige. They were all some variation of honey and almonds or pistachios or dates and all delicious! We eventually found our way out to Djemaa el Fna. This square is a UNESCO protected world heritage site. From the moment we exited the medina we could here the native drum beating and chanting from performers and story tellers. The air was filled with smoke from all the grills from food vendors selling typical Moroccan food. The music and general feeling of the area made me feel as I had traveled back in time. I was expecting to turn around and run into Jesus or something. It was bizarre! We eventually found a restaurant where we stuffed our little faces with Tajine and cous cous and of course I accompanied my meal with delicious mint tea! We explored the area some more before heading back to the hostel. We made sure to memorize our way back only to find our passage way had been blocked off by a giant wooden door and matching lock. We were lost in the medina in total darkness…again…GREAT. But this time it was different. Maybe it was because we were accompanied by a man and because we all were exuding confidence or because life wanted to teach me a lesson but we were met by helpful citizens wanting to get us home safely. We ended up being escorted by an elder man who carried a staff. NO ONE messed with this man. He walked liked he owned the place and in no time we were back at our hostel. This is where I was built back up and stronger than ever. I learned that no matter what you must always walk with your head up, shoulders back and with a purpose. Even if you have no fucking clue where or what you’re doing, JUST DO IT. No one will question you. There are bad people out there but there are just as many good people to make up for the rotten ones. Don’t let the rotten ones ruin or scare you out of good memories. The next day I looked at Marrakech, Morocco, and life in general in a new light. I developed “Superman Syndrome.” I felt like I overcame the scariest thing in my life and I wasn’t afraid to stand up and defend myself. I wasn’t and still am not afraid to do anything. I walked around Marrakech and Morocco for the next few days like I owned the place. By noon the second day I was arguing with cab drivers in French for trying to rip us off, setting up camel rides in Palm Aire and bargaining for leather purses in the souks. That afternoon we were making friends with locals, being invited to have mint tea and earning myself the name Fatima from our new friend Mr. Abdul. By that night Lauren and I walked the Medina alone at night to catch a cab to meet our shipmates and new friends from the hostel at PASHA (The largest night club in N. Africa) and not ONE person said anything to us or tried to approach us. Confidence, assertiveness, and the “I will kill you if you even try to fuck with me” look crosses all language barriers. When traveling independently it is a must. With that being said, do not miss out on meeting amazing local people. This same confidence and energy that repels the bad seeds will propel you to make conversations and build relationships with the good people. From the 22 year old Berber young man leading our camel ride who loves Real Madrid, 50 Cent, Cristiano Ronaldo, and David Guetta, to the 18 year old girl leaving Maroc to study in France who we talked to in the souks of Marrakech, to Abdul the loving, wealthy, Berber man who invited Lauren, Eva, and I for mint tea at his gallery, the people of Morocco left a loving memory in my heart and mind. Abdul, who we met in Marrakech took us in like family, he offered us stories, advice, breathtaking views from the rooftop of his 4 story gallery, traditional mint tea and warned us where not to go. He even gave us gifts before we left. He blessed me with the name Fatima which is still a running joke between us here on the ship. Fatima is my feisty Moroccan alter-ego. But to me Fatima means more than that. I left the old scared little girl I was before Semester at Sea somewhere in the that dead end looking pathway of the medina in Marrakech, today I am Fatima…a strong assertive woman who will argue with cab drivers for a fair price, that woman who walks with a purpose, not looking behind, but stretching her arms forward welcoming new places, people, and experiences. Thank you Morocco for your beautiful beaches, your vibrant people, delicious pastries, tasty mint tea and for making me a new me. Shukran Maroc!
Thursday, August 25, 2011
J'aime Montreal!
My parents and I arrived here Wednesday around noon. It was my birthday so we ventured out of our hotel to Viex Montreal (Old Montreal) for some lunch and birthday drinks. First mission...find Poutine. Poutine is a Canadian specialty made of french fries, gravy and cheese curds. yum yum yum! Aaand may I add, the dairy products here are absolutely delicious! There's a certain freshness and creaminess that just does not compare to anything I've ever had. I have been smothering my toast with locally made butter just to savor the taste!
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| POUTINE! A must have if you are in Montreal! |
Today is the BIG day!
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| It looks like walmart exploded in my room! This is everything I took with me. |
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
More Money More Problems...
Let me elaborate. Even before I applied to Semester at Sea I knew that I would definitely apply for the "Diversity Abroad" video essay scholarship. It's the only way that I would ever be able to afford this trip. The scholarship basically asks students to make a video and describe how a deep understanding of diversity makes us all more effective global citizens (check out my video essay below).
I'm proud and happy to say that I applied and I won one of the 5 scholarships paying 60% of my costs for the voyage.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Sunday, July 24, 2011
One month from today...
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| My whole life is supposed to fit into these 2 bags? At least Stella fits! |
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Shots, finals, and shipmates
The past week has been a very productive one. I'm happy to say that as of an hour ago I'm officially done with the summer semester! It was a gnarly one! I nearly failed my algebra class, which put this entire trip and my future as a student at NSU at jeopardy. Blood, sweat and tears...lots of tears later...I managed to pass. I've never been so happy with a "C" in my life!
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| This is my happy jump |
In addition to my achievements at school this week I also got my physical and medical history form done for Semester at Sea. However I was totally mentally unprepared to get some of my travel vaccines in that same doctor's visit. I cringed as the nurse assumed her position and aimed at my arms as if she was playing a game of random darts. Hep A and Typhoid in my right arm, TDaP in the left. My doctor also provided prescriptions for Malarone (Malaria pills) to be taken while I'm in Africa and other affected areas and Cipro to be taken if I catch some sort of weird bacterial stomach situation. Interesting random fact...Cipro is also used to treat Anthrax. Great! Totally prepared for anything. I have my appointment at the Health Department tomorrow to get my Yellow Fever (Yellow Card) vaccine. I will not be allowed on this trip if I don't have it. I also found out I will have to go back to my primary doctor for more shots. Not excited as my arms were so sore this week I did not sleep for 2 nights. But the pain is well worth it!
Lastly the highlight of this past week was meeting up with a few of my future shipmates! We had a little South Florida meet up in downtown Ft. Lauderdale (where our voyage will end) last Sunday. We had dinner together and had the opportunity to meet a girl who had been on the Spring 10' voyage of SAS. We grilled the poor girl for like 2 hrs but it made us that much more confident in going forward with this trip. Between the vaccines and meeting my shipmates it really put things into perspective...this is real...this is REALLY happening!
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| My future shipmates and I in downtown Ft. Lauderdale |
Monday, July 4, 2011
Around the world in 111 days...
- Casablanca, Morocco
- Tema, (Accra), Ghana
- Cape Town, South Africa
- Port Louis, Mauritius
- Chennai, India
- Penang, Malaysia
- Ho Chi Minh City, Viet Nam
- Hong Kong / Shanghai, China
- Kobe / Yokohama, Japan*
- Hilo, Hawaii, USA
- Puntarenas, Costa Rica
- Traverse Panama Canal
- Havana, Cuba**
