Back home in America

Hi friends - I wrote this last blog entry a little bit at the airport in Ft. Lauderdale while waiting for my flight home, and finished it a few days later, back home in Hermosa Beach, CA. I am still adjusting, maybe even struggling a little with being back home. I have to admit I am a little sad that it is over. I miss my students. I miss the crew on the ship. I miss the people who became my friends over the past four months. It is Christmastime and the lure of the holiday season with family and good friends is beckoning... It has taken me several days, but I am slowly finding my holiday spirit. I am happy to be home but sad for what has been left behind...

Dec. 8-11
Being back in America is weird. I’ve been away for less than four months and yet I feel like a foreigner, here. Maybe it’s because I’m in Florida. Florida is a little bit weird. And yet, it’s America, and I’ve lived in this country my whole life. They said there would be culture shock, that there would be an adjustment period upon re-entering American society. I remember feeling this way last year when I returned from only two months in Spain. It felt so strange to be back in my car driving, when I’d spent the entire summer taking public transportation or walking. Driving alone in your car is something very common in American society, but not so in the rest of the world. We are an individualistic society, where everyone has his or her own car, and prefers to drive alone. Remember that scene in Swingers when Vince Vaughn and all his buddies each drive their own car to the bar? There was a time when even my family had no less than four cars registered to our address! And we are a fairly average American family. People in most other countries have maybe one car per family, and they rarely drive alone. They take buses, subways, trains, or they walk. When I was in India, we crammed five, and sometimes six people in a four door sedan. I really had to try and get over my personal space issues, there. In Spain, Japan, Turkey, nearly everywhere we went, we took trains, buses or subways where you literally had no personal space and were forced to interact with people. I remember turning my head to the side on a subway in Istanbul because I was so close to this man standing in front of me, I was afraid I’d end up kissing him if the train suddenly came to a stop! In America, we value our possessions and lots of personal space. I haven’t had that in some time, so it does feel different. It is also really strange to hear everyone speaking English. Yes, we spoke English on the ship, but in every country, every port we entered, a different language was spoken, and we could scarcely communicate with the people. We had to try to learn hello and goodbye, please and thank you, and surprisingly it wasn’t that hard. Smiles go a long way, and people were really so helpful. We stood out in each of the places and if and when we got lost or really needed help, we could always spot other Americans (usually students or staff from the ship). I look around for my fellow Americans – people from my ship. But, no, these people are not from my ship. They live here. They are bigger than the people I’ve seen in every country so far. They are louder. I realize that I am the one staring now. They aren’t staring at me. I look just like them. I am American. I see shopping malls and gigantic stores advertising Christmas sales, large bright colored signs begging shoppers to enter. I think about consumerism, capitalism, of how abundant our society is. I think of Burma where I rode to an outdoor market on a horse cart, and watched women cleaning and separating crabs and shrimp into buckets, and children selling postcards on the street. I turn on the television and I am bombarded with commercials advertising the newest luxury vehicles, high priced cellular phones and vacation packages for holiday travel. I flip through the channels and see overpaid, fame and money obsessed professional athletes arguing with referees. I can’t believe I missed television. I am lucky – I live in a country where I can walk into any 24 hour convenience store and choose from among the shelves nearly anything my heart desires. This was not so, in several of the places I’ve been. But, I really don’t care about things. I live my life for experiences, not for personal possessions or material goods. I return to America with much less money than I had when I left, and no promise of a paycheck until February. But at least I have a job, and for that I am thankful. I know that for me the next couple of months will be a struggle, as I try to fit back into American society, and at the same time try not to forget the faces of people I’ve met, places I’ve been, and friends I’ve made. I am so afraid of forgetting. I have to find a place to live, a side job to help me get back on my feet, and start to pay off the bills I’ve accumulated while away. But I knew I was taking a risk when I signed up for this experience. And I think about how fortunate I am. There is so much yet to process from this journey. What will I change about my life? How are my views different? What have I learned that I may be able to share with others? I don’t know what the future has in store for me, or what I will choose to do next. And even though I may feel as if I’m struggling right now, I can’t forget how fortunate I am to have had this opportunity. Be patient with me if at times I am sad – I am going to miss my cabin steward, Allan, my friends from the ship, and the feeling of being at sea. I am now back in California, and as I look around, I swear I see Professor Snyder walking on the treadmill next to mine, or students from the ship passing by. The people on the ship were my family for the past few months, and though I will likely never see many of them again, I will not forget them or the experiences we shared together, traveling around the world.

Almost home...

Well, the voyage has come full circle. We are about three days away from Florida, the sun is shining, the weather is warm, the waves have calmed, and it’s study day for the students, which means they are all out in their bikinis and shorts laying by the pool deck. This last stretch has been the longest yet. When everyone hopped back on the ship the night we left Spain, people were so excited to be going home. The energy was contagious, people who’d never spoken before on the voyage were all of a sudden walking hand in hand, hugging one another and chanting Ole, Ole Ole! Ok, maybe that was because they drank so much absinth at the bars in Cadiz. At any rate, people were happy and excited. But then we had some of the worst weather yet, and people weren’t even leaving their cabins. I didn’t have the luxury since I was up to my ears in details for the Ambassadors Ball. The night of the ball the ship was rocking and everyone had a great time. But the next day they had their final classes before exams, and not surprisingly, attendance was low. In our last Global Studies class, each professor gave a 5 minute farewell lecture. One cried, some wrote and read poetry about the voyage, and others continued the theme of their courses. After three days of intense waves, we have finally reached calmer seas. And the mood on the ship has taken a more somber tone. Everyone seems to be looking forward to getting home. And getting done with finals. It’s a strange place to be, because part of you wants to return home to all your friends, family, the comforts of home, and the other part of you knows you’ll miss the adventure of traveling the world, the feeling of being out at sea, with nothing but miles and miles of waves and blue sky. I’ll miss my sea, and the friendships I’ve made with students, staff, faculty and the crew. There are so many things that I will miss about this voyage. I’m still as grateful as ever that I had the chance to be here, and meet all these people, and see so much of the world. As I was beginning to pack yesterday I pulled out a sheet of paper that listed all the ports we would visit. And I remember that at the time, it was just an itinerary. These countries and these ports, for the most part, held no meaning for me. They were just cities on a map, that made a circle around the globe. Now, I can look back and remember the people of Vietnam, Burma, Japan, Egypt, everywhere. I have memories from each of these places - some highs, some lows, the unexpected, and the unforgettable. At least I hope I won’t forget.


I know that when I get home people will ask what country was my favorite or what I did in each of the ports. I’ve been working on a little Top Ten list of sorts and here’s how it goes.

Top Ten Best Overall Experiences
1. Japanese bath.
2. Kayaking in Lantau Island, with two friends from the ship.
3. Chatting with Deaf Children in Vietnam
4. Playing with kids at a church camp in Burma
5. Wearing the Indian Sari at a cocktail party in Chennai
6. Playing an Indian version of poker and just hanging out, laughing with George and his friends. 7. A night of Karaoke in Kyoto, Japan.
8. Card games and radio addresses on a sailboat with five students and 1 Croatian skipper.
9. Swimming in the warm clear waters of the Pacific Ocean in Hawaii.
10. Meeting up with friends in Barcelona and falling in love with the beauty of Sitges.


Top Five Cuisines
1. Vietnamese Pho’
2. Turkish kebabs
3. Spicy Indian food that you eat with your hands.
4. Tapas and Pinchos in Barcelona.
5. Dim sum plates in Lantau, and the coconut curry chicken soup in Hong Kong (yum).


Worst Food
1. The fruit on the ship, way past the state of ripeness.
2. The hot dogs on the ship (ok, I didn’t even try them, they looked so bad)
3. Imitation eggs on the ship (that I ate because the fruit was bad)
4. Fish heads and fish liver in Japan.
5. Japanese food in Barcelona (can’t wait to have sushi again in California)


Worst drivers / worst traffic
1. Chennai, India (Lived in constant fear for my life, nearly had a heart attack)
2. Cairo, Egypt (Did not even cross the street for nearly half of one day)
3. Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam (Actually told people to tell my parents I loved them if I died)

Safest, most efficient, and best transportation
1. Japan
2. Turkey
3. Spain

Top three friendliest, most welcoming people
1. Japan
2. Myanmar
3. Egypt

Top three most beautiful sights
1. The mosques and Haga Sofia in Istanbul
2. The Pyramids at Sunset
3. The Dalmation coast on the Adriatic Sea in Croatia

Most beautiful cities
1. Istanbul
2. Dubrovnik
3. The Hong Kong Skyline and the shores of Repulse Bay.

Best on Ship
1. My Sea Social! (Classy or Trashy, the best sea by far)
2. Sea’lympics
3. Open Mic nights
4. Transiting the Suez Canal
5. Barbeques!
6. Swimming during global studies exams
7. Karaoke in the F&S Lounge.
8. The view from anywhere on the 7th deck.
9. Watching the sunrise as we pulled into Hawaii.
10. Never getting tired of seeing the sunset on the sea.

Belle of the Ball?

Friends and family members have often heard me say that if and when I ever get married I do not want to have a big wedding. I like to have small gatherings at my home, holiday parties, sometimes even costume parties. Well, ok, I’ve said it; I do enjoy parties. But planning an end of the year Ball for over 600 people, to me, was almost like planning a wedding. For the past three months I’ve been meeting with my “event planning” committee (we elected co-chairs and sub-committee chairs way back in September) on a weekly and sometimes daily basis. We had to create a budget, select a theme, shop for decorations, design, assemble and deliver invitations, create publicity, set ticket prices, choose a diverse and tasty menu, coordinate music venues, create a slideshow, line up performers, sell tickets, assign passengers to tables, schedule two dinner seatings, a cocktail hour, the champagne toast, a dessert buffet, photos with the Captain…. and try to get ourselves ready for the Ball - which for me meant a trip to the salon and trying to remember how to tie my bright pink sari again!

As soon as I arrived back on the ship from Spain, I was back to work, with only two days to tie up all the loose ends for the ball. I was up half the night trying to work out the logistics, checking and cross checking the lists; did we really order over 400 filet mignons? Would the entertainers show up on time, would we have enough time to decorate between the end of class and the start of the ball? Would tickets be delivered to each cabin in time? There were last minute passengers who decided they now wanted to buy tickets, there were a few people who didn’t like their seating arrangements and requested another table, vegetarians who wanted to know why we were serving eggplant instead of tofu, and I was running around trying to make everyone happy. Do I sound like a bride? Fortunately I did have two fabulous co-chairs and a great committee of students working just as hard on the Ball as I was, and in the end, the event turned out to be simply fabulous!

Seeing everyone dressed up in their Indian Saris and fancy evening dresses or suits they had made in Vietnam, walk into the beautifully decorated dining room we’d spent hours planning and executing, made me smile. Everyone looked so beautiful, and the entire ship looked amazing in our Bollywood theme – the crew even made us a giant chocolate Taj Mahal! The rooms were brightly colored and adorned with saris, Indian throw pillows and colorful decorative hats. When I finally got my sari on, and made it to the second seating in costume, I was so excited to see everyone that I went around to each table snapping photos. Someone at my table asked, “Where’s Danelle”? To which another friend responded, “She’s being the hostess with the mostest”. Seriously, had I known I would have my wedding on this ship with over 600 guests, I would have registered at Bloomingdales! Now I have a bunch of photos of people eating dinner. What will I do with those?

All kidding aside, it was a fabulous event that brought together an entire community. We raised $5,000 after all of our expenses, to donate to the Students of Service Organization, the same group that coordinated the auction, and raised over $20,000. We’re now in the process of choosing several charity organizations to sponsor, and we even donated the saris to an adult passenger on board who works with underprivileged girls in America. I know I felt like a princess all dressed up in my sari, and if it will put smiles on the faces of young girls back home, then by all means, let them play dress up and learn a little about Indian culture! There is a great deal of fundraising happening on the ship; we are now in the middle of a shipwide drive for the alumni association, which seeks to sponsor low income students, and subsidize tuition for all. To many of the students on board this ship, an extra $30 or so that they can donate is the price they’d pay for a pedicure on the ship. But to most students in America $20,000 to $30,000 for one semester is a price much higher than they can possibly afford. With any luck we’ll be able to raise enough money to sponsor those same young girls dressed up in saris to go on Semester at Sea someday.

España

When I first found out I was going to be working for Semester at Sea for this Voyage I was ecstatic about the itinerary. Japan? Hong Kong? Egypt? Are you kidding me? And then I saw that Spain was the last port on the itinerary before returning to the US. How perfect, I thought. After spending all of summer ’05 in Spain, I’ve been yearning to go back. But, with only five days in each port, I’d be forced to make a decision. Do I go to a part of Spain I’ve never been, like Bilbao or San Sebastian, do I go back to Madrid, Malaga or Marbella, or should I return to see my friends and try to capture something I left behind in Barcelona? It was a tough decision, but I knew what I had to do. I wasn’t finished with Barcelona, and I had to get it out of my system.

Upon arrival in Cadiz, the flavor of Spain was at once, inviting. I was excited to speak the language (at least more than the hellos, good-byes and thank you’s I had learned to speak in the other ports). I approached the ticket counter at the bus station and the cashier’s desk at the bank with confidence. I knew I could both speak and understand far better than I could the first time I’d been to Spain. And it was true, with each transaction I grew more confident. My plan was to take a bus to Sevilla, spend a few hours there, and then take a flight to Barcelona that night. I’d spend the remaining time in Barcelona before flying back to Sevilla and finally take the train back to Cadiz on the day of departure.

I regret that I had only left a little time to explore Cadiz before departing… but I know that this will not be my last journey to Spain, and that it’s very likely I will return to this region. Andalusia is a region rich in culture and heritage, and it is in fact where my great-grandparents were from, the birthplace of many of my great aunts and uncles, and the home of many of my far extended family. The coastline along Cadiz was beautiful, peaceful and calm. With little time to explore, I watched it mostly from the window of my coach. Arriving in Sevilla, anyone would know immediately that they are in Spain. It has a very typical Spanish feel, with towering cathedrals, colorful palaces, and tiled rooftops on nearly every home. Sevilla is a rather large city, much more modern than I had expected. I think I was envisioning a village with a large plaza in the center, with flamenco dancers on the square and fresh bread baking in the panaderias on every corner. And while it ma not be difficult to find exactly that scenario in this city as well as other parts of Spain, I found instead, university students with their backpacks walking to classes, young men with baggy jeans and long sleeved t-shirts listening to their ipods as they crossed the street, and both men and women in pin striped suits walking or taking the bus to work. I stopped an older man on the street and asked him for directions to the bus that would take me to the airport. His thick strong Andalusian accent (shortened words and strong “th” sound) reminded me at once of my grandfather’s cousin Antonio whom I had stayed with last year in a little town in the south called Benahavis. It made me smile. If only I’d had more time, I could have stayed in Sevilla, or met up again with family in Cadiz or Benahavis. But, as I said before, I know that I will be back. I had to get Barcelona out of my mind.

The short flight from Sevilla to Barcelona allowed me some time to reflect on the time spent there last summer and to anticipate all the things I wanted to see and do this time, that I missed when I was there last. When I arrived at the airport, it was great, I knew exactly where to go, how to take the train into the city, where to find the metro stop. While, trying to figure out maps and bus stations and train schedules in each of the previous ports had been exciting, it was nice to finally be in a place that felt familiar. As soon as I emerged from the underground metro onto the streets of Passeig de Gracia in Barcelona, I felt almost as if I was at home. You know how the smell of a place (the air, the food, even the cars whizzing by) can bring back memories or transport you to another place in time? That was how I felt when I arrived. I had left Barcelona a year ago with tears rolling down my face. I wasn’t ready to leave yet, and I had no idea then, when or if I’d be able to return.

My flatmate when I lived in Barcelona was a Dutch girl named Melissa who came to visit me in Los Angeles this year, and has since moved to Barcelona. The plan was to stay with her, meet up with my friend Manuel, and visit some of the places that had been on my list before. I hadn’t seen Melissa since July (almost the same amount of time it’s been since I have seen most of my friends back home). But when I saw her it was as if no time had passed at all. Except that I realized rather quickly that her Spanish had improved while mine had declined. We spent the first night just catching up, and playing a board game with her roommate, Annalies.

The next day I had nearly the whole day to myself, and I just walked around the city, trying to pay attention to new sights, but visiting a few of my favorite spots, like the beach at Barceloneta, Las Ramblas, Plaza Catalunya and Park Ciutadela. Melissa and I met for lunch and had some fabulous pinchos and tapas, my favorite foods to eat in Spain. That evening I was exhausted from walking around the whole city, not wanting to waste any precious time taking a siesta. We had dinner that evening at a Japanese place, which was a little weird, but I guess you can’t eat tapas all the time.

The next two days were spent traveling to the beautiful parks of Montjuic, meeting up with my friend, and other former flatmate Manuel, going out for tapas and Sangria, and finally traveling down the coast to the beautiful, artsy little beach town of Sitges, a spot I had longed to visit while I was last in Barcelona, but never made it. It was the first time there for all three of us, and a visit we were all equally as thrilled to have made. Sitges is a gorgeous beach community along the coast between Barcelona and Terragona, with a cozy community of artists, writer, poets and yes, vacationers. The homes there were gorgeous but not imposing. It reminded me a little of some of our beach communities back at home, where children ride their bikes along the boardwalk, young couples are pushing strollers, and the people from young to old walk their dogs, sit and eat at cafes or meander through the shops and open markets. It was a refreshing little respite from the bustle of all the people, especially the tourists, in Barcelona. I wished I could have stayed there for a few more days.

My last night in Barcelona was as most last nights are, bittersweet. I was happy. I’d spent a great day at Sitges, the day before at Montjuic and I was satisfied I’d seen most of the places I felt I left behind a year ago. I had come back to Barcelona and met up with my good friends, one of whom, before this trip, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see again. We went to a great restaurant in a fun little area of town I’d never been. I was a little sad. I’d have loved to have had just one or two more days there. But I didn’t cry this time. As I was leaving to get in the cab to go back to Melissa’s apartment that night, Manuel handed me a little gift – un anillo de amistad – a friendship ring, exactly like the one he was wearing that I’d been admiring all day long. I had wanted to get one for me and a friend back at home, but I hadn’t seen any while we were out, and I’d just as soon forgotten about it. But, when I saw the ring and placed it on my finger, I realized that no matter how far away your friends are, they are still your friends, and while close friends are often hard to come by, you can find them sometimes anywhere in the world. When I left Barcelona this time, I wasn’t sad at all. It was the perfect last port for me, and one I will always remember. This time I don’t feel as if I left anything behind, rather I took something with me that will always remind me of the importance of friendship. Now, I am looking forward to seeing my friends back home.


If I can just get through these rocky seas…

Happy Thanksgiving!!

So here I am in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea, knowing that all my friends and family back at home will soon be celebrating Thanksgiving. It feels a little strange. Tonight we had a Thanksgiving Dinner on the ship, which was actually pretty good. I was worried because the food on the ship has been steadily deteriorating. They do a great job, however when it is a special occasion. Turkey, gravy, stuffing, mashed potatoes - only thing missing was the green bean casserole! I love that stuff. But hey, I can’t complain. I will say, however, that it did feel a little like I was in the military, going through a buffet line with my dinner tray and sitting down with my coworkers at a table so far away from home. I thought about how the soldiers away from their families must feel on holidays... I guess being on this voyage has made me think a lot about war, military, foreign policy. They could have taught entire courses on war and how it has affected each and every place we have visited. There is so much that I wish would change. But I want to focus on what I am thankful for, and this year I have a lot on that list. A few days ago, it was International Day of the Child, and it was by far my favorite Global Studies lecture on the ship. I was reminded of children in my life, grateful for the new little ones who are on their way, and those who’ve been born since I left the US. I was inspired again to work harder for children’s issues abroad. There are so many children in the world who live in poverty and poor health or under oppressive governments. We have visited some of those places. There are far worse conditions out there than much of what we saw. I want to do something to help change that, and the professors who spoke that day offered so much hope, at least to me. Surprisingly, the professor I found the most intriguing was the Professor of Economics (I have never been interested in economics before). But, she talked about ways in which we can help poorer nations raise their economy, how we can encourage both private citizens and corporations as well as government to give to organizations whose missions are to eradicate or alleviate such problems as poverty, homelessness, AIDS, hunger, lack of education and health care. I was so inspired hearing her speak, and believed that with enough people out there like her, we can make a difference. I hope that the students on this voyage were struck by some of the people we’ve met, the sights we’ve seen, and the messages particularly from the lecture on that day as much as I was, and I hope they are moved to do something to help. We had an auction the other night that raised thousands of dollars that we will donate to one or more charities of our choice (I hope we select organizations that will feed and educate children, empower women, and fight oppression). I have to say though it was really strange for me to be in a room full of students who could spend $600 to impersonate a staff member, $300 to take a bubble bath, $900 on a plastic globe, or $150 to play a game of RISK with one of the faculty’s kids. And these weren’t even the high ticket items! Some students spent thousands. It is always amazing for me to see the disparity between the rich and the poor. I have certainly seen that on this trip, traveling around with mostly affluent students, but visiting countries where poverty is the norm. Still, I have met many great people. Rich, poor, old, young, American, Asian, European, African. Each has touched me in some way. There are so many things that I am thankful for. This trip is one of them. Here are a few more. 1. My family – everyone is in good health, happy, employed, loved. They are supportive and encouraging and have followed me along this journey. I miss them.2. My friends back home, who are like family to me. I’m thankful for all the emails, blog comments, letters (those really did mean a lot!). I’ve thought about you all often, and am lucky to have you in my life. 3. My job, my boss and coworkers at UCLA, and SMC, for being so supportive of my journey and for picking up any loose ends I may have left behind. 4. The opportunities I’ve had in my life to travel, to become educated, to make many of my own choices, to grow up in a safe place, to never have gone hungry, and to have lived in a society, that while flawed, affords many freedoms that do not exist for women in many other societies. 5. The friends I have made on this voyage, both on and off the ship, those who I know I’ll see again, and those I hope I will not forget. I may not have been able to outbid the student who spent $2700 for a week in Sun Valley, Idaho (even if it was for charity), but I have been given more than I could have hoped for and am fortunate in more ways than I can adequately express. I am so grateful. Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

Croatia and the Adriatic

Only about fifteen years ago, Croatia was in the center of a bloody war and tumultuous controversy as the republics of the former Yugoslavia fought for their independence. I can recall terms such as “ethnic cleansing”, and the tangle between Bosnia and the Serbs and Croats, from my high school world history courses, and remember fearing that the US and many civilians were losing their lives in yet another war. And though anyone you speak with there can recall the battles in detail, and tell you of land mines that still lie in the off beaten areas in Croatia, Bosnia and Serbia-Montenegro, Croatia has since retiled the red rooftops that had been bombed, and repaved many of the streets that suffered from the attacks. While many bullet holes and bombed out walls can still be seen, the beauty of Croatia and the Dalmation Coast shine through. Today Croatia remains a beautiful, picturesque, modern and fairly affluent country with gorgeous beaches, pristine lakes and rivers, green mountaintops and tons of quaint little islands dotting the coastline. During the hot summer months, celebrities and vacationers from around the world, flock to this Riviera-like coastline and turn the old cities of Dubrovnik and Split and the quiet uninhabited islands into a hotspot for adventure and tourism. During November, however, these cities and each of the islands go into hibernation. Arriving into the port city of Dubrovnik, I had no solid plans for what I’d so in Croatia. Especially with only two days in between the past few ports, and work to do on the ship, its been hard to research and plan anything. Nobody really knew much about Croatia, so it seemed the majority of us left it until the last minute to figure things out. I spent the first day in the old city of Dubrovnik, climbing the city walls which were built hundreds of years ago to protect the city from enemy fire. Today it frames the beautiful old city and provides a gorgeous backdrop for photos, and a place for Semester at Sea students to jump from cliffs into the sea (it also provided some last photos of the voyage for at least one student who was unfortunately injured badly enough that she is now being transported from a Croatian hospital to one in the Austria). Mom, aren’t you glad I didn’t jump? After spending one day and evening in Dubrovnik it became clear that I would need to explore other parts of Croatia. Dubrovnik is a beautiful city, don’t get me wrong. I enjoyed my time there very much. But, five days in just that one town, crawling with SAS students (I think we quadrupled the population with our arrival to this port) might have become boring rather quickly. So, when a small group of students invited me on a “yachting excursion” to go “island hopping” for a few days around Croatia, I decided I hadn’t had enough sailing (being on a ship traveling around the globe), and I bought in. And although this yacht turned out to be a sailboat and the excursion felt a little more like camping than “island hopping”, I was really glad I went. Besides, our skipper was a local, so although it wasn’t complete immersion into Croatian culture, at least we got a chance to get to know him and even practice a little of the native language. With two ladies and five guys, you can probably imagine the type of trip that it was. No hot water in the shower, a toilet we had to manually pump ourselves, and a kitchen the size of an airplane lavatory (wait, those are probably larger), it was tight quarters. I’ve learned a couple things about myself on this trip that I wasn’t sure about before. One, I’m not a backpacker (found that one out in Japan when I erroneously thought I could climb Mt. Fuji with a backpack not much bigger than a school pack and clothing I purchased from Old Navy rather than REI), and two, I’m not much of a camper. I like warm showers and clean clothing way too much. Ok, perhaps life on the ship had spoiled me too much (did I mention that my cabin steward cleans my room everyday and that for $5 a bag I can have my laundry done for me?) But, I am not much of a prissy girl either, and I can hold my own without showering for a couple of days. Besides we were on an adventure! We spent most of the first day sailing in the calm and peaceful Adriatic Sea. I even jumped in for a swim for a while which was really nice, even in November. The water was clean and beautiful, and it felt great to finally be back in the water. We had loaded up our small refrigerator with food and drinks and arrived at one of the small islands that evening, where we decided to cook up some spaghetti and teach our captain a few good old fashioned American card games. It reminded me a little of trips to the cabin with my parents back when I was a kid (mostly because we always had spaghetti and there wasn’t much more to do at night than play card games), and also a little like trips to the mountains with my friends back home (probably because there was a lot of beer involved). At any rate, we had a blast. It was also a lot of fun getting to know these other six people a little better. The next morning we got up early and hiked around this totally deserted island. It was beautiful, and also a little strange to be the only people there. It felt a little like Survivor. The views were amazing, and it was so peaceful. Back on the boat, we headed off to another island, where we found another beautiful old castle, and I had the bright idea that we’d find a hotel with a hot tub and invite ourselves in. Ha! Not only would we find no hot tubs, we’d find not one open hotel, restaurant, café, scuba diving shop, etc. These islands completely shut down in the winter. If we’d wanted to stay off the boat, we’d have had to rent a room in someone’s home (which also could have been cool), or we’d have had to really camp out on the beach. I was glad we had our boat; it was freezing at night! We were pretty lucky, though. The weather was great during the day, and we were able to enjoy these islands all to ourselves. By the third day, I was feeling great about the adventure, but needing a long hot shower, so it was great to get back to the ship. That evening we went back to the old city (pretty much where everything is happening), and caught the new movie, Borat, which was hilarious, and stumbled over SAS’ers on every block. I didn’t get to try a lot of Croatian cuisine (had some seafood the first night that was pretty good, heard the pizza was great), and I didn’t meet as many people in this port as I have in the others (Croatian people, though friendly, certainly didn’t go out of their way to welcome us the way they has in other countries), and I didn’t spend much if any time shopping (everything was either closed or I didn’t figure anyone would want me to bring them back tacky shot glasses, overpriced t-shirts or key chains that said Dubrovnik on them). But, I did get to have a nice relaxing time in a beautiful country, and enjoy a little down time before coming back to the ship and immediately going straight to work. Something else that happened for me in this port was that I began to really miss home. A few days, even a week ago, I wasn’t ready to go back home. I wanted the adventure to continue. I suppose a piece of me still does. It is exciting to always have a new port to look forward to. But, it also gets sad sometimes to keep leaving a place and sometimes people behind. But it really hit me in this port how much I miss my family and friends, and to some degree my life back home. No, I don’t want the journey to end, and I don’t think it ever will. I just look forward to having my real life back for awhile, until the next journey, which I hope I’ll have the fortune to make. Of course, Spain is up next, and that country holds a very special place in my heart. So, I am very much looking forward to continuing my adventure there before crossing the Atlantic and returning to the U.S.

Breakin' hearts all over Istanbul

When we first arrived in Istanbul, I was sure I was going to fall in love. First, we were docked in the most amazing part of the city, with views of incredible mosques on top of hillsides surrounding a magnificent harbor. The air was cool, crisp and fresh, and the leaves were turning beautiful browns and golds. Finally, it felt like Fall after months of heat and humidity in Southeast Asia, and the desert heat of Egypt. I even got up to see the sunrise! Istanbul is the only city in the world that is actually on two continents (Europe and Asia), plus, it is a city that you can easily walk around, and hop on and off an extensive and convenient metro system, which has recently been added to my list of criteria for favorite cities in the world. Walking through the streets, the smell of savory kebaps roasting on each corner, and Turkish coffee brewing filled the cool, blustery air. Ancient mosques with their impressive minarets towered over the city from every mountaintop. Istanbul had at once impressed me as a city that is historical, modern, cultural, exciting and beautiful. Indeed I fell in love.

I had a pretty heavy agenda for what I wanted to see and do in Istanbul. Since there was a lot there to keep me busy, I’d decided not to leave town and simply take advantage of all there was to offer. First trip was to the largest and most significant mosques – The Suleyman and the Sultenahmet, or Blue Mosque, as it is called because of the blue tiles in the interior, and the Hagia Sofia Museum, which is a kind of church/mosque hybrid – it was once a beautiful cathedral built in 550 CE, and was later converted into a mosque, when Islam took over ancient Turkey. It made me think of the churches in the southern part of Spain that have been converted from the mosques of the early Arabian influence there. Religion plays such a fascinating part of history, architecture, culture and people. The mosques were unbelievable. They are really just so beautiful, I find it hard to explain. It was interesting, too, because here in Turkey, I saw much fewer women covered in the headscarves or completely veiled. We weren’t even required to cover ourselves inside the mosques, and I was told that the traditional custom of women praying only in the small room in the back, separate from the men, was slowly coming to an end. We did see women in this section, but we also saw many women, not dressed in the veils. I cannot lie, I am fascinated by this aspect Muslim tradition and culture.

The next day I donned my knit scarf and gloves, hat and jacket, and wandered into town with my friend Kate. We’d decided to make a day of shopping at the Grand Bazaar and touring the Topkapi Palace, a beautiful and ancient former palace of one of the many sultans in Turkey’s past. The Bazaar is a huge covered market, with nearly 4,000 shops (mostly jewelry, pottery and lamps, and mostly the same items in every store). Walking through the bazaar was crazy! We had vendors calling out to us at every step of the way, “Hello, beautiful”, “Hey there, Angels”, “Can I help you spend your money?” Yuck! I was immediately turned off. And Kate, because of her white blonde hair and big blue eyes, on her nearly six foot frame, became a huge target of their calls. She had also been through the Bazaar the day before and many of the vendors had remembered her. We ran into one really creepy guy with a Mohawk who wanted to talk to Kate, and so somehow we managed to let him walk us to his friend’s carpet store nearby. I am thinking the whole time, why are we with this creep? But it turned out his friend, David, was pretty nice, and fairly normal (I think), so the trip wasn’t so bad. Except that we didn’t want to buy carpet! But, it was ok. He gave us some apple tea (they serve this to everyone in the carpet stores) and I found out that he was also of Spanish descent, only he was Jewish and his great grandparents had fled Spain from Turkey back when the Jews were forced to leave Spain and provided refuge in Turkey. He has a brother who now lives in Barcelona and owns another carpet store there, so I told him maybe I’d go by and visit him there. He asked me to call him as well if I wanted him to show me around Istanbul. I took his card and said maybe I’d give him a call. We ditched the creepy guy who had explained that he wanted to show me a few nice guys before I made my choice of men in Istanbul. Seriously? Gross. At least David was nice.

After shopping, we hit up the Palace, which was your typical collection of ridiculously extravagant works of art and jewelry housed in a sprawling estate in the center of town. The palace was beautiful, and the collection was amazing, but when I saw coffee cups that were made of gold and diamonds, I knew I had seen too much. On the way to the Palace we stopped by a restaurant, where two men were standing and called out to Kate and me. Apparently another young Turk had become entranced in Kate’s eyes and his friend (the restaurateur) introduced him to her on the street. Herself entranced with his green eyes, Kate stopped to chat with him. Being the good wing girl that I am, I chatted up his friend (though by no personal interest, I can attest). He was nice, however. They asked us to come by later for dinner and we said perhaps we would. We had also run into another young carpet salesman outside of the Hagian Sofia Museum who gave me his number and asked me to call him for coffee later. I told him we had plans that evening, but perhaps I’d call him after (I had no intention of doing so, but thought it might be easier just to say ok, than to say, I’m never going to use this – I guess the two days in between Egypt and Turkey had me all out of practice. I mean I told a man in Cairo that I was not only married, but also pregnant – what was wrong with me?)

That evening, we went to see a performance of Whirling Dervishes. I’d never heard of dervishes prior to Semester at Sea, but knew at once, I wanted to see them. They are these guys who dance around in circles, spinning to music and aligning themselves with God. It is both fascinating and rather uniquely spiritual, and something I am really glad I got to witness. Is it bad that I found one of the whirling dervishes very attractive? Probably.

After that, we went by the restaurant, because Kate could not get green eyes out of her head. We ordered a couple of beers and some plates of hummus and other yummy treats, and chatted a bit with the two guys. They wanted to take us out later, but I was tired (and not interested), so I declined and Kate stayed out. They said they hoped I’d come out with them the following night. But I never did. I don’t know. I was just really turned off by all the overt advances and men calling out to women on the streets. I couldn’t really take any this interest as genuine, and I wasn’t really looking to find a love connection. I wanted to believe that these were nice guys who just wanted to make a new friend, or practice their English with a foreigner, but they just seemed so aggressive. I wasn’t into it. And it made me fear shopping, and a little uncomfortable going to any of the touristy areas.

The next couple of days were great. I went on a motorboat cruise up the Bosphorous strait that splits Istanbul between the two continents. It was a gorgeous day and completely relaxing. Afterwards I walked around with a couple of girls from the ship, and came home early to call it a night. The next day a group of about five of us headed out to one of Prince’s Islands, about an hour ferry ride from our port – a unique secluded little island where no cars or buses are allowed and everyone gets around on foot, bike, or horse and carriage. We spent almost the entire day there, and it was wonderful.

My last day in port, I decided to take the day to myself and maybe do a little x-mas shopping, hit up the internet café, walk around the city and get a Turkish bath. Shopping was a challenge. I did not want to go to the bazaar and I was so tired of bargaining! Shopping in these cities is intense. And, gone are the days when you could bargain items down to the equivalent of a few dollars in US cash. Turkey is expensive! My walk was nice though. I went to Taksim square where tons of cafes and bookstores line the streets, and I sauntered in and out of music stores, opening and closing my umbrella in between. Though drizzly and gray, it was a lovely morning, and I was enjoying the peace. I decided it was time to get my Turkish bath. Unfortunately, the only bath I knew of was back near the Bazaar, the restaurant and the other tourist traps. Against my better judgement, I walked through the Bazaar, and happened to run right into Mohawk guy! Boy, did he give me the evil eye! He wanted to know why my friend never called him, and to let me know that David was disappointed I hadn’t called him or stopped by. Urgh. I wanted to say, she didn’t call because you were creepy! And I didn’t call your friend because I didn’t want to run into you! At any rate, I did feel bad and tried to find his shop, but if you’ve ever been to Turkey you know that there are Carpet shops on every corner and three in between, so I had no idea which shop was his at that point. Oh well.

I made my way to the bath, carefully trying to avoid the restaurant, so I wouldn’t have to hear why I didn’t call that guy, and wouldn’t you know it, I ran into the other carpet salesman who wanted me to call him for coffee! Damn. He was looking all sad and disappointed and asked why I never called him, too. Geez… I told him I wasn’t going out at night, and I had a boyfriend. But I had coffee with him anyway, and afterwards he looked so sad. I guess Kate ran into him and the restaurateur who both told her how disappointed they were that I didn’t call. Heartbreaker!! I really didn’t mean for that to happen. I was just so turned off by their aggression, and I was really uncomfortable with people just calling out to us from the street. I didn’t want to get into a strange or scary situation. I didn’t want to feel bad about it either.

I decided to skip the bath, and make my way back to the ship, stopping at some less aggressive shops to make a few final purchases. I stopped at a little jewelry shop, trying to find a bracelet for a friend of mine, and I ran into the nicest man. We spoke in Spanish (he said that his Spanish was better than his Enlgish and I looked Spanish so he assumed I was). He didn’t have any bracelets for me (which was what I was looking for), but he took a small charm that looks like a blue eye and is said to ward off evil or jealous eyes from looking your way, and he put in on a chain around my neck. He asked if I like it, I said it was nice, and he said. “No dinero. Es un regalo para ti”. How sweet. A gift! His generosity worked, because I immediately wanted to buy something from him. I looked at a pair of earrings, perhaps to give as a gift to one of my friends. And do you know what he did? He gave me the earrings as a gift! At this point, if I’d had a ton of money, I’d have bought everything in his store. He was so sweet. And he didn’t ask for a thing. He didn’t even care if I bought anything. He just enjoyed our conversation. And, you know, so did I. I found out that he was a Kurdish man from the Southeastern part of Turkey and that he’d come to Istanbul about five years ago to start a new life, with greater opportunities. His homeland has been in such turmoil and the economy so bleak that he decided to come to Istanbul and start over. I really enjoyed talking to him and learning about him, and it was a nice breath of fresh air compared to the other guys I had perceived as being less than authentic. I’m not sure who was more heartbroken by the interaction with the guys in the streets – them because I didn’t call, or me because they had called out in the first place. But my heart felt warm when I came back to the ship. And I really did love Istanbul.

Greek Islands!!

So, good news. We did get out of Alexandria, although almost an entire day late. The sea was incredibly rocky and just about everyone was in their rooms sick last night as we departed. But, we did get out, and this morning I woke up to calmer waters and a much faster ship speed (which is always fun for us). So, it looks like we'll make it to Turkey on time afterall, and none of us will miss our trips! Today has been gorgeous. The air is cool and crisp, the skies are blue with some clouds, and we have an amazing view of the Greek Islands from our ship. It actually feels almost like November finally! All of Asia was warm, and southeast Asia in particular was hot and humid. So, it feels great to finally be getting into some cooler temperatures. I can't believe we arrive in Turkey tomorrow. I love only having two days on the ship between ports! Of course, I have a lot more work to do in those two days and may have to come back a bit early to catch up, but the great thing is fewer meetings (I haaaate meetings) and fewer classes (our Global Studies class has been pretty boring, unfortunately). and I think we have reached the point in the voyage where everyone gets on eachother's nerves... so the fewer days on ship is nice, because we can take off in port and do our own thing. :)

Alex

Alexandria is often called the pearl of the Mediterranean. If you spend any time along the beaches or the coastline here, I am sure you’ll see why. The second largest city in Egypt (next to Cairo), the city was founded by Alexander the Great in 332 BCE, and was also the site of the great saga between Cleopatra, Mark Antony and Juilus Ceasar. Egypt is a nation with tremendous history, almost incomprehensible to young scholars and to non-history buffs, like me. While I am fascinated by the Pyramids in Egypt, and was equally impressed by the catacombs, and the remains of other Ancient Roman civilizations in Alexandria, I am even more intrigued by the present day people, their culture and their surroundings. That being said, it is amazing to see modern day Egypt alongside various remnants of some of the oldest civilizations in the world, and I hope the magnificent history will remain preserved for thousands more years to come.

With only two days to explore Alexandria, my friend Ryan and I quickly devised a plan of the various sites to see. It was a gorgeous day, sunny skies, and warm but not humid as it had been all throughout southeast Asia where we’d spent the last four to six weeks. I was of course, impressed first by the beautiful Mediterranean coastline and the long stretch of beaches bordering the city. We wandered around the city first by foot, and literally stumbled upon one of the most beautiful mosques I have ever seen. It was actually an Andalusian-style mosque, influenced by the Arab presence in southern Spain. The largest mosque in Alexandria, it was quite impressive, and we happened to be there on Friday, the holy day for Muslims, so we walked in just at one of the many times throughout the day that Muslims pray. Ryan and I walked up, a bit gingerly, hoping not to intrude. But the man at the door waved Ryan to come in and waved me to the side. I was a bit confused until I saw that only men were going through the front door, and the women were walking around the corner to an entrance in the back. I followed the women. I have to admit I felt extremely noticeable and awkward, and yes, a bit intrusive, walking into this sacred religious place, for which I am not a part of the faith. I found it interesting as well, that yet again the women were separated from the men. I found this everywhere.

In Cairo, I found that many people spoke English and various European languages quite well, and it was fairly easy to get directions or find your way around the city. In Alexandria, this wasn’t the case. We had a tough time trying to find our way around, at first, but we did find many nice and welcoming people who attempted to help us out. They would always ask, “What Country?” and I would say “America”. They would smile and say, “America, good!” and offer to walk us to the bus stop, or even walk us all the way to the places we wanted to see. I found this hospitality over and over again.

We’d heard the Montazah Gardens, where an old King had his palace home were worth a visit, so we took a us for about 1 Egyptian Pound (about 20 cents American) and found ourselves amidst more than 200 acres of beautiful gardens resting just above the Mediterranean Sea. Men and boys playing football in the park, female students walking round in groups, chatting, and foreigners visiting with their families, strolling by or sitting beneath the trees, I probably could have stayed for hours. It was quite peaceful, and a nice respite from the busy city streets. We weren’t able to go into the palace, but we found a nice stretch of beach down below and made our way into the water to wet our feet. I am such a water person, I wanted to get in and swim and spend my whole day there. But we had other plans…

Next on our list was a visit to the Catacombs. Everyone we asked seemed not to know what we were talking about so it took us nearly half the day to find this site. We were standing near Mansheya Square, the site of an old statue of Mohamed Ali, when several young men approached us to ask us if we needed help. (Side note, nearly everyone we saw would say, Welcome to Egypt, or “Hello”, and they were particularly intrigued by Ryan with his blue eyes, and wanted to know his name. I think they might have thought he was a celebrity or something). Finally three of the guys who spoke English quite well, figured out that we were asking about the catacombs, and offered to take us there. They became our buddies for the next day and a half.

Shareef, Rico, and Waleed took us all over Alexandria, and we had an amazing time, getting to know them, learning about Egyptian and Muslim culture, practicing a bit of our limited Arabic, and laughing at their jokes. These guys were great. Still, I had yet to meet any Egyptian women, so I was quite pleased when Esme, a friend of Waleed joined us at a bar that night (she didn’t drink, of course), and I thought I might be able to speak to her. Unfortunately, she didn’t speak English and I can’t say much or understand anything in Arabic, so I wasn’t really able to communicate much with her.

The next day, Shareef met us early in the morning at Mansheya Square and we journeyed on foot to the Great Biblioteca Alexandrina, the site of the amazing new library. Many people could have spent hours in here; it is like a museum, compete with collections of old rare books, machinery that was used for papermaking and printing hundreds and thousands of years ago, and art from both ancient and modern times. We also enjoyed the beautiful view from outside the library, overlooking the Mediterranean. But there were a few more things we wanted to see.

My favorite site by far was a beautiful old castle at the Fort of Qait Bay, resting just along the Mediterranean coastline. Here, anyone could feel like a King or Queen, and it reminded me of playing games when I was a kid, out of bits of furniture or toys outside that we would erect into a fort. Only, this was a real castle! Again, if I’d had an entire day, I’d have spent at least half of it here. The view, the architecture, the ocean breeze, it was breathtaking. And we found not just tourists, there, but in fact many local Alexandrians just taking a walk, or sitting with their friends or loved ones looking out to see. At one point, Ryan was even approached by three young university aged women, who wanted to sit and talk with him. We were so excited to finally meet some women who wanted to talk to us. They were equally as excited to have met us. They offered to teach us a few more words in Arabic and take us to have some more Koshari. The three girls were studying a little and spending the day celebrating one of their birthdays. We asked if any of them had boyfriends, to which they quickly all shook their heads, no. They are only 20 years old. When they asked if I was married and I said No, they looked puzzled and asked “Why?”. If I had a dollar for every time….

Unfortunately, while the young women were quite enthusiastic about speaking with us, it became really difficult for us to understand one another, and a bit awkward using Shareef as our interpreter, so we weren’t able to talk to them quite as much as I’d have liked. I wanted to know how they felt about wearing the veil, and what their lives were like. From what I could tell, they seemed very typical of young Muslim Egyptian women, and quite different from most university women back in the states. I wish that SAS would have offered a university exchange here, such as the one I visited in Hong Kong. Now, at least I know that I can find some middle eastern women studying on exchange in America, and talk with them there. It’s not that I haven’t done so before, it’s jus that now I will have been to their country and know a little more about from where they’ve come.

At the end of the day, Ryan and I bid our farewells to Shareef and Rico, our new Egyptian friends, and as always I was a bit saddened to leave both them and this beautiful place behind. I don’t know how I will do it, but I really hope to come back to each of these places again. I want to spend more time here.

Next stop on the voyage is Istanbul, Turkey. I am so excited to visit another Islamic country and meet Turkish people. One little problem… we came back to the ship and were informed there would be rough seas all night and we were in fact postponing our departure, We are now still docked in Alex and, and are not sure when we’ll get to leave. I hope it is soon. I am looking forward to this next adventure.

So many Mohammeds

Mohammed, in Arabic means, “praiseworthy”. Mohammed was the name of the prophet and founder of the Islamic religion, and since then, has become the most common and favored name among Islamic people. I met no fewer than five Mohammed’s in less than three days in Cairo. The first day, I felt really blessed as I was traveling alone to my hotel, and happened to run into a few SAS students from my sea. Traveling alone in Egypt was not recommended, but I found myself alone after a bit of miscommunication, and losing my presumed travel partners. That was when we met our first Mohammed. While waiting to get on the bus to Giza, Mohammed found us and chartered our group of ten in a small bus to his hometown of Giza, so he could take us to ride camels, and see the great pyramids. He knew that we were all on a budget and that we were a group of students from the US. Rather than being put off by Americans, as we thought many Egyptian people might be, instead we were welcomed with open arms. Mohammed took so much pleasure just in showing us his hometown, talking to us about Egypt and showing us his warmth and generosity. My first afternoon and evening in Cairo was spent with a group of SAS students, on the backs of camels riding into the sunset, right up to the ancient pyramids of Giza. I cannot tell you how amazing it was to see the Pyramids. But to ride up through the desert on camels and then to touch, climb and even go inside the pyramids, was like nothing I could have imagined. I never thought I would ever see the Pyramids, and I certainly never thought I’d ride a camel in the desert, at sunset, in Egypt. It was one of the greatest experiences I have had on this trip to date.
After the sunset, Mohammed took us to the rooftop of his friend’s home so we could watch the sound and light show at the Pyramids. He didn’t want us to have to pay a fee to get into see the show. After that, he took us to a Tea and Hookah shop and bought tea for all of us, while he went to find us a cab back to our hotels. I loved how the tea was sweet and strong, and the smell of apple flavored tobacco lightly dusted the air.

The second day Mohammed treated three of us to a traditional Egyptian lunch of koshari (a type of pasta with lentils, chickpeas, onions and a red sauce). It was delicious. I just keep remembering how excited he was to show us everything. He was going to take me to a wedding later that evening. Unfortunately, after visiting the Citadel and the ancient mosques in old Cairo, I got lost again, and couldn’t find Mohammed. I was really sad because he was so excited to be our guide, and I know he really wanted for me to see more of Egypt. Plus, I was back to being alone. Fortunately, I ran into some other friends and was able to join them for dinner, after some hookah and cocktails at their hotel. I felt really bad, though. Mohammed was so excited about showing me more of the city. I hope I can reach him to let him know I’m sorry for having lost him.

Back at my hotel I made friends with several of the staff there, and yes there were a couple of more Mohammeds among them. But I also met Hasim, the gift shop owner who taught me to speak in Arabic, and gave me a souvenir coin and chiclets every time I walked in. It was funny, because I was staying at a Spanish owned hotel and everyone assumed I was Spanish so they spoke Spanish as best they could to me. But even when I told them I was American, they were so excited. I told Hasim that I wasn’t sure how the Egyptians would treat us, knowing we were from America, considering all that is going on in the world. But Hasim told me that he knows the American people are not our government, and he has many friends who are Americans. He also showed me pictures from the album in his top drawer, of he and his brother smoking hookah and chatting with American soldiers several years ago. I also met Salaama, the host at our restaurant who offered to teach me some Arabic and show me around Giza. He was really excited to learn that I was a teacher and that we had brought students here to learn about Egyptian culture. Everyone was so kind. My one regret so far is that I didn’t really talk to any Egyptian women. I didn’t realize this until my last day in Cairo. Everyone I had spoken with were men. The vast majority of Egyptian women are Muslim, and probably 98% of them wear the headscarves, and some of them are entirely covered up. I felt like I stood out so much, even though I dressed very conservatively, and even wore the scarf when entering the mosques and other religious sites. After one slightly sketchy run-in with a taxi driver who I ended up telling I was not only married, but also pregnant (I quickly learned that it was best never to tell men that you are single, and if married, it’s best to say you also have children), I was thrilled to find that some of the metro cars are reserved entirely for women. I love that this exists. But in some ways I am sorry that it has to. I guess some of the men can be pretty aggressive. I fortunately did not experience this too much, but some of the students did. I just remember looking around at the women on the train and wondering what their lives are like and how they might compare to mine. If I get a chance I really want to talk to some women in Alexandria. I can’t decide for sure how I feel about the Islamic tradition of dress. It struck me as such a strange contrast that the men appeared so modern and really quite free to dress as they pleased, and present themselves as they wished. Whereas the women, many of whom walked hand in hand with these men, were almost entirely covered up. Many of these women were probably quite gorgeous underneath – it was difficult to tell when at times all you could see were their eyes. The men, many of them, were incredibly attractive (one of the last Mohammed’s I met at yet another restaurant was stunning – he gave me three chocolates at the end of the meal and asked if I’d come back the next day – Inshallah, I thought – God willing – but alas my tour of Cairo was over and I had to leave). The women’s beauty is kept hidden in many ways, and I wrestle with how I feel about that. I understand it I suppose but it really is such an odd thing for me to see the difference between men and women. Islam, who is one of our students on the ship, says that women are actually upheld in the Islamic religion, and they are quite well respected. This is of course, only if they follow the traditions of keeping themselves covered at all times, except when alone with their husbands. It would be interesting to live for some time in their shoes. I think that’s the only way to really know how it feels. I did see a great many young women who were quite fashionably dressed and looked quite beautiful in their scarves, chatting with young men or their group of friends, and I have to say they really did appear quite happy. Again, I was never approached by any women, nor did I take a chance to talk with them, so I don’t know much about their lives, their thoughts, or how they feel about their religion and culture. This is something I regret.

Something else I observed were men walking down the street arm in arm, as well as women walking down the street hand in hand. I thought this closeness and affection was wonderful, and something that in many ways is missing or would be seen as strange in US culture. I was thinking to myself how great that was, how we live in a homophobic society that would view these gestures as gay, and therefore, strange or odd, and how I wish that would change. But then I remembered in our pre-port briefing that I learned that in Egypt, homosexuality is illegal, and that made me sad. How can a society make illegal something for which you have no control? It’s like making it illegal to be white, or black, or female… (something not so far removed from our own society, in fact). So, yet again I leave this port with questions and contradictions in my head. The traditional greetings in Arabic are “As-salaam alaykum” (peace upon you), and the response, “Wa alaykum as-salaam” (and unto you, peace). I think of our Egyptian student, Islam and what a wonderful person he is, how he represents a religious faith that in many ways is so beautiful and peaceful, but is also so misunderstood (by those both within and outside of the faith). I think of all the Mohammed’s, of Hasim, Salaama, and of the women on the metro car. I think of the Copts (The Egyptian Christians who make up a tiny percentage of the population), and I think of my Coptic Egyptian friends back home, and their families who left Egypt long ago for America. I think of the wedding that I missed, and what I might have learned there, or who I might have met. I think of the sights – the River Nile, the Pyramids, the Sphynx, the Egyptian museum with the mummies, and coffins of King Tut. I think of the children on the park bench who spoke a different language but eagerly played with me when I drew a game of tic tac toe. I think of the next Mohammed I met who urged me to go home before the sun went down, so I wouldn’t get hassled on the street. And, I look forward to Alexandria, hoping I’ll have the chance to learn more.

Happy Halloween!

This has been one of our longest stretches at sea yet, and it has gone by so quickly. This week has almost reminded me of my life back in LA – busy. It also made me miss LA a little bit, but I’ll get to that later. The first day back on ship, I received an invitation to the Captain’s Dinner, which is exactly what I needed after gorging for five days on Indian food (this trip really is not for dieters!) But the Captain’s Dinner was amazing – fabulous food, unlimited glasses of wine, crème brulee… and I got to sit right next to the captain! I must admit I was a little intimidated at first, but I quickly turned on my own charm, and had a wonderful time chatting up the Master of the Ship. In between asking him if we could throw a wakeboard behind the ship (seriously), turn up the speed to 30 knots, or filling him in on the latest rumors about us not going to Turkey, I learned that he has a wife and two daughters back in Croatia, that he’s a big fan of James Bond movies, and that while all his brothers and uncles dreamed of becoming doctors when they grew up, he always knew he wanted to be the Captain of a ship. I cannot imagine a life in which you are separated from your family for nearly six months at a time in some cases; I just found out that my cabin steward, Allan from the Philippines has a seven month old baby at home, and when he last saw her she was only three months! It reminds me a little of military families and I feel for the wives and children at home as well as for the fathers who miss their families. But, perhaps this works out well for them… I’m not sure.

The next day brought a huge event for the shipboard community, an entire day free of classes, devoted to the Sea Olympics. From 10am until almost midnight, our “seas” competed in everything from egg toss, tug of war and volleyball, to hot dog eating, hairstyling and pure unadulterated talent (or in many cases lack thereof). :) I was really impressed with some of the talents. There was a freestyle rapping contest, where two girls went up against a rather intimidating lineup of guys – and held their own – and in the end a white suburban kid from Massachusetts blew everyone away with his lightening fast rhyming skills and unique rapping style. It was a little like “8 mile”, and I won’t lie, I’d , buy tickets to this guy’s show. My sea started off a little sluggish (I don’t think the judges appreciated our hip/hop theme or even knew the origin of our song – the students thought it was great), but we came back with wins in several team events and a great talent show, and climbed our way into the top three. I was proud of the Med Sea, and it was a fun, but very exhausting day.

Speaking of talent, we were entertained yet again this week by the Crew Talent Show, followed by Crew Appreciation Day. The crew on this ship is a great group of men and women from around the world (mostly the Philippines, but also the Caribbean, India, South America, Eastern and Western Europe, and even Canada). The crew talent show was an opportunity for us to see their individual talents shine, and to see them as people with lives beyond the ship, with great fun and outgoing personalities. I think a lot of the girls also saw many of them as hot young hip-hop dancers… but thank goodness for the no-fraternization-with-crew policy, or things might get a little dicey on the ship. J All-in-all, the crew talent show was a fundraiser for the crew, in which we raised nearly $8,000 to go towards their facilities, crew tours in the ports, and the social welfare of our crew. The next day we peppered the halls with thank you signs and banners, cleaned our own rooms, bussed our own tables and generally tried to do our part to thank them for the amazing work they do on this ship. They really do spoil us, here, and in many ways, we probably don’t deserve it.

The rest of this week for me has involved a lot of meetings and organizational planning for the Ambassadors Ball, another charity fundraiser that my committee is planning at the end of the voyage. And somehow when I haven’t been frantically throwing together these meetings, trying to figure out what I’m going to do in Egypt, spending a couple of hours each night chaperoning the “AFTer hours parties, and meeting individually with homesick students, or motivated student group leaders planning additional shipboard activities, I managed to organize a fun UCLA dinner, bringing together the other eight bruins here, and am hosting a Chico State dinner tonight, with the two professors and other two students here representing Chico and the Wildcats. Oh, and last night was our Halloween Dance Party (I went as Pocahontas), our Cultural Pre-port for Egypt, and tonight we have the Logistics Pre-port. Whew! I am sure I have left out a lot. It has been a busy but mostly fun week. I definitely thought of LA quite a bit during the UCLA dinner and missed my friends back in LA. Tonight, I am sure I will be reminiscing a lot about Chico, which makes me miss my family and friends back there. But, every now and then, I try to take a few moments away from the busy schedule and just try to catch the beautiful sunset on the ocean, or the breeze from the bow of the ship, and remind myself how lucky I am to be traveling around the world, and have the opportunity to meet people of unique cultures, see amazing sights, and live in a community where so much growth is possible. Tonight, we arrive in Egypt! I am so excited. It was one the ports I was the most looking forward to reaching. Egypt?!? I still can’t believe I am almost there…. Like all other ports, we only have a few days in this country. I cannot wait to see what this new journey will bring.

India - Hate it or love it?

They say you either love or hate India. Either way, you will have strong feelings - there is no middle of the road. My colleague Jayshree back in Los Angeles , who grew up in India told me to “brace myself for the sights, smells, and sounds of India, as they can be very intense”. Everyone I spoke with seemed to prepare me for the worst. Don’t drink the water, watch what you eat – you will get sick, and don’t swim in the ocean or walk on the sand, it’s dirty. Wear closed toe shoes, take your malaria medication, use bottled water to brush your teeth, and beware of pickpocketers, con artists, and people begging for money. I had envisioned a filthy, foul smelling, chaotic, seedy society; what then was there to love?

My first day in Chennai, several students and I had decided to go shopping for decorations for the Ambassador’s Ball, that we had recently themed “A night in Bollywood”. Seven of us headed out to the streets to take taxis in to one of the local markets. Immediately we were met with no less than forty rickshaw drivers calling out to us for rides into the city. Since the rickshaws only carry two to three people each, we had to split up into three of them, assuming we were all going to the same place, and would meet as soon as each arrived. In Los Angeles, for example, seven people could split up into three cabs leaving Beverly Hills and end up at Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica at almost precisely the same time, give or take a few minutes for traffic. Chennai, however, is not Los Angeles, and India is certainly not the U.S. We split up into the three separate cabs, and did not see eachother for the rest of the day. Rather than taking us where we wanted to go, the rickshaw drivers took each of us on a crazy tour of the city, complete with several stops at very expensive boutiques, when we were certain we had asked to take us all to a street market area called Pondy Bazaar. Eventually, Justin and I did make it there, only several hours later, after switching rickshaw drivers, arguing about the high-priced fare, and taking a long break from the chaos to enjoy a rather amusing first dining experience in India.

When we walked into the restaurant, we quickly noticed how crowded it was, and the fact that no other foreigners were around. Waiting list of all locals. This is a good sign. At least those crazy rickshaw drivers/con artists had brought us to a decent place. We arrived at our table and were presented with large circular platters, each dressed with a large banana leaf, that covered the plate. Not surprisingly, there were no napkins and no silverware in sight. After Vietnam and Myanmar we quite expected this and were prepared to eat with our hands and use the tissues and little bottles of hand sanitizers we tried to remember to bring with us everywhere we go. When the waiter offered us water, we politely declined, choosing instead to go with bottled soda, and no ice. Drinking a warm fanta orange was somewhat less than refreshing, but we had been warned about “Dehli Belly” and were careful not to ingest water in any form. Justin and I are both pretty adventurous with food so we decided to order a couple of things and share. I looked at the menu, and pointed to a vegetarian dish that I wanted to order. The waiter looked at me, smiled and shook his head. Hmm. Ok, I thought. Well, what about this, I said, and pointed to a second dish of prawns in a spicy sauce. He looked up at me again, smiled and shook his head. Confused I looked at Justin, who also confused, pointed to a dish of chicken masala on the menu, and again, the waiter smiled and shook his head, while continuing to write something down. Aha! I thought, and at the same time Justin realized it too. Indians have this interesting little head nodding/wagging type gesture which looks like the way we Americans shake our heads when meaning to say no, but in fact they are saying, ok, or that’s fine. It’s kind of a wobble. We practiced it a lot after that. And got plenty of laughs. The food at this place was wonderful, too. It was incredibly spicy, and we ate indeed with our hands, but being the well prepared little travelers that we were, we popped our pepto before every meal, and our bellies were just fine.

The second day, I rounded up a group of students and a few staff as we went to meet our host families that we’d be staying with for the rest of the time in India. I was really excited to meet my family, have a nice place to stay, and not have to worry about crazy rickshaw drivers. Have I mentioned the traffic situation in India? If you remember that Ho Chi Minh City in Vietnam was like playing tackle football with no helmet, no pads and no rules, then picture Chennai, India as a game of dodgeball, with thousands of people in a very small space, where not just one, but every person has a ball, there are absolutely no boundaries, and people are coming at you from every direction. And they have horns. Do not forget the horns. The streets of Chennai made the traffic in Ho Chi Minh City look like a polite game of chess. It’s either a sport or a nightmare (which incidentally is how I view dodgeball, but I digress to bad childhood memories of that game). Anyway, traffic is complete chaos and whether I was in a rickshaw, on a bus or even with my host family, I feared for my life and saw it flash before me a myriad of times.

The family was really cool, though. I stayed with my friend and fellow RD, Gail, and our adopted little brother Mike, who we later called Kumar (he was given an Indian name by our host family, after donning the traditional Indian dress to wear to a party the second night). Our host Auntie, Usha and our host “father” Krishnan have hosted many past SAS students and were really excited to meet us too. This homestay was sponsored by the Rotary Chapter of Chennai, and about 30 SAS participants were divided up into various homes of Rotary club members and their families. Like most Indian families, Krishnan, a single guy about 40 years old, lives with his parents, and one of his aunts, Usha, who became like our mom. The parents are quite elderly and speak only Tamil (the most indigenous language of the region in Chennai), so it was difficult if not impossible to speak with them. They also had a couple of women who worked, cooking and cleaning in their home, but who lived in a tiny home in the back with their grown children and young grandchildren. This was my first exposure to the caste system, and one I am still trying to process and understand. Krishnan is a day trader in the Indian stock market and Usha is a pre-school teacher. The home is fairly good sized, though, by American standards quite modest, and I am guessing they are average to middle class, in this part of India. When you take into account that we saw many people living on the streets, and others living in large sprawling plantation homes, I’d say they fall somewhere in the middle.

The experience I had in India was not like any of the other places we have visited so far. Staying with a family meant being fed at least six times a day, being driven around to do shopping, go sightseeing and being a guest in a “typical” Indian home. Prior to this visit, I’d mostly been on independent trips, finding our own hotels, getting lost in the cities, taking trains, ferries and buses to unknown places and walking around with backpacks full of gear to last the whole trip. This was in some ways good and in some ways a bit restrictive, but it was an experience that I am grateful to have had.

Krishnan and Usha were great. They really gave up their time and other interests to welcome us into their home and their lives. They took us to a shop to buy saris, helped us bargain for better prices, and took us to a salon for the entire next day so we could get henna tattoos, get our hair done, and get our saris tied on for the party that night. We spent all day in the salon, and the whole thing cost less than $20. They even dropped off food for us (samosas, yum), because God forbid we would miss a meal. I cannot emphasize enough how much food we were presented with; it was literally making me sick, not for the quality, but rather the shear amount and frequency of it all.

The party at the Rotary Club meeting was one of several highlights for me. After spending the day at the salon, and getting all dressed up in our Saris, I felt like an absolute princess. We arrived a bit late to the meeting, and certainly made an entrance when we walked in with Kumar in his long white gown, Gail with her royal purple sari, and me with a shimmering pink silk sari and braided French twist, and our henna tattoos from wrist to fingertips, front and back. We got a lot of compliments that night, and really felt what it’s like to dress in traditional Indian attire. Plus, it was a rotary function, which meant I got to meet a lot of really interesting, socially involved, civically minded people who share a lot of interests that I have both back at home and here abroad. I am really looking forward to keeping in touch with them, and in sharing this experience with my Rotary chapter back in LA. Oh yeah, and there was also a very handsome, younger Rotarian who rather captured my attention, and who invited me and my housemates to play cards the next two nights… that was another highlight for sure. Spending time with people my age, with rather similar lifestyles and interests (and who play house games of poker!) was a very good time indeed. The only thing that troubled me about that experience was that on the second night I noticed as we were walking up the steps to the home of our card game hosts that night, a woman was sleeping on the floor just outside their covered door. It struck me as rather sad that while we were all sipping cocktails, playing cards and tossing rupees onto the table, this poor woman was outside sleeping on the floor that she very likely scrubbed on her hands and knees that same day. Again, the system of the caste is a tough one for me to comprehend. In a country that claims to be the largest democracy in the world can such overt division of class, discrimination, and lack of opportunity for so many, really exist? I struggle with this.

So, did I love India? Did I hate it? I loved riding a horse on the beach in Mamallapuram, visiting the intricately built temples, and seeing women in saris walking down the streets. I loved the energy and the community of the women in the salon, dressing up in saris and practicing Tamil with local people who chuckled or smiled when I said Nandri (thank you). I enjoyed the amazing hospitality and warm treatment we received from our host family, the Rotary club members, and my new friends who welcomed me immediately into their circle. I loved the bright vibrant colors, the mix of modern and classical music, the diversity of religions and cultures, meeting so many differnt types of people, and playing with the grandchildren of one of Krishnan and Usha’s staff (we weren’t allowed to call her by name). I hated that such division and distinction exists between the castes, that rickshaw drivers and street peddlers pounced on us everywhere we went. I loved the intense flavors of the food, even though I now do in fact have a stomach ache. I hated being fed six times a day, especially when so many people there have no food at all. I really hated the overuse of horns and the chaotic driving in the streets (in my assessment, the typical Indian driver blasts his horn no less than three times per minute of driving), and I could have lived much happier without breathing in so much dirt and pollution. But India was also a place where I made new friends, became interested and involved in the social activities of people, read the newspaper and learned a lot about education, politics and culture. It was my home for just a few short days, and I am convinced that I did not have nearly enough time to experience the real India. Someday I’d like to go back, and do more, see more of this country, take more risks, travel outside of just one region. Will I get the chance? I don’t know. Will it be the first place I choose to return? I’m not sure. I understand why they say there is no middle of the road. The middle of the road, literally, in India is the toughest and most dangerous place to be. It’s just at this point, I can’t decide.

Med Sea - Classy or Trashy?

Every “sea” of students on the ship has one night during the voyage where they get to party it up in the faculty staff lounge. We’re talkin’ karaoke, beer and wine, music, dancing, and best of all, they get to hang out in the oh so coveted lounge where typically prohibited students peer in through the windows at staff and faculty sipping cocktails and unwinding from the day. Last night was my “Sea Social” and we got off to a great start when my sea decided our theme would be “Classy or Trashy”. I was classy of course; did you really have to ask? Last night was a blast. Have I mentioned how much I looove my sea? (I actually miss them sometimes when I am away from them in port). I must have a lot of fraternity and sorority girls or something, because these people really know how to throw theme parties. Hopefully I can upload some of the photos. I can’t wait to share them all with you. We had guys with mullets, short cut-off shorts, half-shirts, trucker hats, girls with red pumps, pregnant bellies drinkin’ beer, and we actually had two girls come in dresses made of trash bags! They looked amazing! Then we had the very fashionable tall dark and handsome guys dressed in pin striped three-piece suits with dark shades, and ladies in elegant new dresses, high heeled shoes and pearl necklaces. And who could forget, Evan who came dressed in drag! Everyone got into the spirit and they looked fabulous! We even got a card the next day from one of the senior adult passengers who said she had the best time ever at our social. One of the great things about the sea socials being held up in the F&S Lounge is that faculty, staff and senior passengers are invited and have a chance to hang out with the students, if they wish. Everyone really seemed to rally around the theme, and my sea has so much spirit – we had a great time! I’m thinking I need to do more theme parties back at home. Classy or Trashy at the UCLA Career Center? Ha! Just kidding, Al. Maybe at USC…. Lol. J

So, these are some of the fun things I get to do on the ship. A lot of the time, we’re in meetings, or forming committees, or talking about conduct violations, or chaperoning the pub nights, and I can sometimes get stressed out or frustrated. But then I get to do things like have a party with my sea, strategize with them for the Sea Olympics (I am doing a swimming event, lol), or simply hang out with my students and get to know them a little better. I’ve really got a wonderful group of students in my sea, and great committees for Ambassadors Ball and Ambassadors of Goodwill. So, even though it can be a lot of work, I get to meet a lot of really amazing people. That’s one of the coolest parts of taking this journey with so many other people. In my ideal world, I don’t prefer to travel in large groups with a set itinerary, and very little time in each place. But, since I cannot have my closest friends or family members on this journey, it’s comforting to know I am traveling with some really great students, staff, faculty, kids and adult passengers on board. It also helps during those times when I really miss people back home.

Tomorrow we arrive in India. I have heard a lot about this place and I am really excited to see this country for myself. I will actually be staying with a family through the local Rotary chapter, and I am ecstatic for this. Will this place with almost one billion people be chaotic, noisy and crowded? Will the countryside be lush and green as it was in Vietnam and Myanmar? Will the people be as friendly? Will I like the food? Should I drink the water? As my colleague Jordan back at UCLA says, “more will be revealed”.

Myanmar (aka Burma)

How many of you have heard of Myanmar? Could you place it on a map? Do you know its people? When I saw the itinerary for Semester at Sea, I am fairly embarrassed to say I’d never heard of Myanmar, except of course when I read the blog of my friend and former RD, Yas Djadali, who sailed last year. Have you heard of Burma (this is the former name of the country of Myanmar)? Perhaps you have met a Burmese person, or maybe you’ve eaten Burmese food? It is doubtful. Most Burmese people have never left their country, and very few have ever traveled to the U.S. for sure. The U.S. discourages tourism to this country, and bans Americans from purchasing their goods. We are part of a larger network of democratic nations who do not wish to support an oppressive government run by a military regime that prevents it’s people from speaking out against the government and from democratically electing it’s officials. Knowing this, many of the staff and students aboard this ship questioned and wondered why we were going to visit such a place, that even our government does not wish for us to patronize. There are two schools of thought on this issue. One is that of the US government (for one) and the former leader of the National League for Democracy, a nobel peace prize winner, Aung San Suu Kyi, have called for a withdrawal of support to this country and ultimately it’s government (the government controls the economy and the people), or the opposing side which says to encourage tourism so that foreigners will get to know the people of Myanmar and bring their support, in order to strengthen the economy, the education and ultimately the plight of the currently oppressed population. It is certainly a complex debate.

After visiting Myanmar, I’m still not sure where I stand on this issue. My hope would be that eventually democracy will prevail and the people will regain their rights. My fear is that the people will attempt to rise against the government as they did back in 1988, and the regime will kill or imprison them. It is something you cannot help to think about while traveling in Myanmar.

When we arrived in Myanmar, the first thing I noticed was the lush green countryside, the old wooden canoes and modest wooden shacks near the coastline. Myanmar is bordered by Thailand on the east, and shares much of its climate and geography, though it is much less modern. Docked in a port that was one hour away from Yangon (the largest city in Myanmar) we shuttled into the city, passing through many rural villages where cows and families of goats walked the streets and villagers picked and sold fruit from the sides. Bouncing over potholes, and patches of dirt roads, passing horse drawn carts, trishaws and old rusty bicycles, I immediately felt as if I was in an entirely different world. It was like going back in time.

We were told not to drink the water, be careful with food sold on the streets, stay away from fruit and ice cream, and that women typically did not travel alone (not because it is unsafe but because it is viewed as a bit strange). By the end of my five day visit, I had broken each of these rules. Is anyone surprised? My first day in Yangon, I was to meet up with a couple of friends at a guesthouse we had reserved outside of the downtown area. Because I was separated from the group, I was forced to travel alone, and found it to be quite easy and that the people were very eager to help me find my way. People did stare at me certainly, very few foreigners ever travel here, so for many of them it is the first time they have ever seen a westerner. I found that I actually enjoyed times when I was alone walking through the markets or the streets, and the religious sites, because I was far more aware of how the people were perceiving me, and was less concerned with what my friends wanted to do, or what our travel objectives were for that day. It is a very strange feeling to have so many eyes on you, watching your every move. Whereas the Japanese people certainly noticed us but did not stare, the Burmese people openly watched and observed us, and the children practically ran to our sides to say hello. They were friendly and welcoming, and really seemed to appreciate having us there.

The best meals that I ate were purchased on the streets or were provided out of shacks in small villages cooked over an open fire. When my friend Gail and I took a public fairy across the Yangon River to a tiny village called Dalla, we, as the only foreigners had to pay a fee of one US dollar to cross the way. We presented the dollar bills to a manager who inspected the bills very carefully. Foreign currency is not common here. Upon reaching the village we were bombarded with trishaw drivers who wished to give us a tour or take us into town. We politely refused as we wanted to walk through the village instead. In fact, the previous day we had taken a horse cart in another small village, but this particular day we wanted to take the road less traveled, so to speak.

What a brilliant surprise we found! Upon turning down a small dirt road, we met a few children and an elderly Burmese gentleman who greeted us and asked us if we were on our way to the church. We asked if we might be able to come, and they led us to a tiny very modest church in a yard teeming with children. We were told that this was a church camp for children, but this week it was for the non-Christians. Most of Myanmar is actually Buddhist and Christianity is only a very small percentage of the population, but the church provides a camp where children can come and play, while their parents work. As soon as Gail and I walked in the gates we were met by children running towards us or wishing to shake our hands, say hello, invite us to play with them. They were so fascinated by us – it was peculiar for me – I felt like a politician or perhaps a celebrity shaking hands and kissing babies. But it was the most enjoyable experience just playing with the kids and talking to the elders. Some traditions cross all cultures, and they immediately inquired whether we had eaten. Already I had eaten from the streets and markets and so far had not fallen ill. Here, we certainly couldn’t refuse the food from our hosts, it would be seen as rude. Besides, we were hungry and running low on kyat (the local currency) so we accepted the offer, and were provided with plates full of rice and a a green curry with chicken that was cooked in a shed over an open fire. Burmese people eat with their hands but they gave us spoons, which we quickly abandoned realizing how difficult it is to eat chicken on the bone with a spoon! And the food was quite simple, but great. Chicken is quite expensive for the local people so this was considered a real treat. Again, it was a bit off to have people watch us eat; I think they were fascinated with our strange manners, and the faster pace with which American people tend to eat.

I had a number of great experiences in Myanmar, but I think my visits to the villages were my most treasured. I so enjoyed meeting the people and experiencing just a bit of their lives. On the last night, we went to a dinner and cultural show, where we were entertained by traditional dance music and performances. We even got to dance with the performers and participate in a mock performance of the water festival. At this dinner, I drank water, ate ice cream, ate fruit for the fifth consecutive day and did not suffer any consequences. But more than that, as I danced with Burmese women, I reflected on the images of children and families in the villages, of the people in the streets who sold us their food and goods, of their smiles and of their sorrows. I thought about the man with a legal education, who could not practice politics for fear of imprisonment by his government. I thought of the young man who became our tour guide in a small village where he worked as a teacher for about $12 a month, and could not even afford the lunch that we bought that day for less than $2 each. I thought about how these people had affected me and how we might be able to affect them. I am still unsure of how or whether we really can make an impact on them. But I am curious to find out more. And I have no mixed feelings on whether we should or should not have visited Myanmar. I am blessed for having this experience, and the smiles on the faces of the people I met (Burmese monks, tour guides, church ministers, guesthouse owners, restaurant workers) assured me that they were just as pleased to have us there.