Semester at Seaville

You Can Go Home, But You Can't Stay Here

2007-12-15T06:40:00.000-08:00

# of Nautical Miles in the MV Explorer
Ensenada, Mexico to Honolulu, Hawaii 2296
Honolulu, Hawaii to Yokohama, Japan 3437
Yokohama, Japan to Kobe, Japan 325
Yokohama, Japan to Quingdao, China 987
Quingdao, China to Hong Kong 1153
Hong Kong to Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam 687
Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam to Bangkok, Thailand 633
Bangkok, Thailand to Chennai, India 821
Chennai, India to Alexandria, Egypt 3831
Alexandria, Egypt to Istanbul, Turkey 722
Istanbul, Turkey to Dubrovnik, Croatia 883
Dubrovnik, Croatia to Cadiz, Spain 1459
Cadiz, Spain to Miami, FL 3933

Ambassadors Ball

2007-12-02T05:43:00.000-08:00

Yesterday we celebrated the Ambassadors' Ball on the ship. Almost everyone on the ship gets dressed up for a fancy dinner (two glasses of wine and a champagne toast) and then an evening of dancing, as well as a slide show. Below are more pictures of me in one post than ever before seen...I apologize in advance!

Below is Evette Young and her son, Ralston, who is my favorite five-year-old on the planet (and not just because I taught him how to use the Scantron machine and grade the Global Studies exams). They live in LA and we are plotting my future travel to visit them there:

Here is Professor Ruth Krulfeld (one of two anthropology professors on the ship, Professor Wattenmaker of UVa being the other fabulous one) and Professor Monty Elliott (astronomy) with me at dinner:

Two of my favorite students on the ship (is it okay to have favorites??? I mean Mom says I'm the favorite, so it must be okay, right Lauren, Marisa, and Zabrina??)

Below (left to right) are Anna, the Director of Student Life; her husband, August, a history professor; Jim, the Assistant Executive Dean; Jim's wife, Nancy, part of the medical team; Ed, the Executive Dean; and Marilynne, Ed's wife and a mental health counselor on the ship.

Fellow UVMer and Resident Director, Akirah, and I pose for the camera:

Meagan, the Assistant Director of Student Life; Katie, a mental health counselor on the ship; and Eric, a Resident Director:

Jess, Katie, Alexis, and Akirah pose for the camera at our preparty celebration:

Nancy and Jim, my neighbors, killing time in the hallway as we stood in line to get into the dinner:

Doc Linda, Nurse Karen, Husband Paul, and me making our plans for Alaska! Karen and Linda live and work in Anchorage and they offered up a trip for ten people in the ship's charity auction that ten of us bid for...and won!

The Captain and I at a special occasion dining event earlier in the week (I told you; it is a rough life on the ship!)

Spain

2007-11-27T02:24:00.000-08:00

The day before arriving in Spain, Lara, Kathy (UVa librarian and Curry pride graduate), Marianne (linguistics professor), Eileen (asst. librarian), Pati, and I enjoyed a wonderful Thanksgiving feast on the ship. True, the mashed potatoes and stuffing weren't anything like Mom's, but the turkey, rolls, and cranberries were more than adequate. The company was fabulous; you'll notice the turkey centerpiece courtesy of Pauletta's visit to Turkey (no pun intended).

Our first day in Cadiz, (pronounced Cadith) Spain, the oldest city in Western Europe, was spent wandering around its churches and cathedrals.

I loved the gargoyles on many of the old edifices; so many of the buildings were erected during the time when sea travel was done only by the likes of Ferdinand Magellan and Amerigo Vespucci. I'm glad I waited for the luxury of the MV Explorer.

That evening Lara led a FDP, or Faculty Directed Practica, trip to Chiclana and I came along. After watching a bloodless "bullfight" demonstration with a bovine that was neither mature, male, or aggressive, we enjoyed a flamenco dance demonstration. Flamenco dance originated with the Andalusian gypsies and involves a lot of clapping and steps that are neither shuffles nor stomps. It was a beautiful exhibition.

After the demonstration one of the dancers selected me to join them. Buoyed by the sangria at my table and more aware of the attention I would call to myself if I didn't dance, I joined in. While all signs point to finishing the dissertation and giving up any dreams of professional dancing, flamenco was a welcome change from the line dancing that had been plaguing us in the faculty staff lounge.

The next day I met up with Jeannie, one of my roommates from graduate school in Charlottesville, and we headed to Sevilla. Jeannie is living in Valencia, Spain, this year, teaching Spanish to UVa students studying abroad there and English to two classes of Spanish students who are also enrolled.

Legend says that Hercules was the founder of Sevilla and we arrived there after a two hour bus ride. Our time in Sevilla was spent enjoying wonderful tapas, sangria, wine, and baked goods...so delicious. Jeannie found us a comfortable hotel with vaulted ceilings, antique furniture, and classical decor for a more than reasonable amount of Euros. We enjoyed eating our way through the city.
We did make time for a visit to the Alcázar Palace, an old Moorish fort that was expanded in major ways over the centuries, first beginning in 1364.

Given its Moorish background, the design was largely Islamic; its architecture known as mudéjar a well-known style under Christian rule.

The palace houses beautiful gardens, tile work,
and intricate detailing in its tower and steeples. Several monarchs have added their own additions to the Alcázar and it was fun to see what royals were responsible for what. One of my favorite spots was a huge fountain overarching a massive outdoor garden.

And what visit to Spain would be complete without a horse, of course? Jeannie and I sprung for the horse drawn carriage tour of the city. our steed did not disappoint!

cathedral and Giralda tower

After learning to barter and maneuver throughout several Asian countries, resembling the good ole US of A in neither infrastructure nor culture, visiting Spain was such a snap. I honestly found myself thinking, "Really! Really? Spain, is this the best you can do?"

While I know this sounds arrogant, I say this not because I didn't have an amazing time in Spain, or appreciate what it had to offer, but for a different reason entirely. Exploring a country where so many people spoke English and so many people in our group spoke Spanish meant an acculturation and acclimation that was much more seamless than my experiences in countries like Egypt, India, and Vietnam.

Dubrovnik, Croatia

2007-11-18T03:49:00.000-08:00

Dubrovnik is a beautiful walled city overlooking the Adriatic, a popular summer beach vacation destination for many Europeans.

Our trip to Croatia in November meant the city was neither beachy nor bloated with tourists. In fact, our stay in Dubrovnik was really quite chilly and many of the historic landmarks and museums were closed when we arrived.

Many of our students headed north to the town of Split or even further north to the popular Zagreb region, tired of Dubrovnik in only a day or two. I had neither the inclination nor the restlessness to leave Dubrovnik. Even in the cold and the rain, the city’s status as a historical and cultural gem was apparent.

Many of the streets were made of cobblestone, the squares with marble and the main thoroughfare of the old walled city was lined with baroque buildings and beautiful churches. It was hard to imagine that the city had been hit by some 2000 shells in the civil war raging the former Yugoslavia (1991-92), but off the beaten path, piles of rubble, presumably from decimated homes and churches, were undeniable.

We visited Saint Saviour Church, constructed between 1520 and 1528, one of the few structures to survive their major 1667 earthquake;

viewed the Clock Tower, which originated in 1444; and the beautiful Onofrio Fountain, built in 1438. We even observed a candlelight processional by hundereds of town children to the St Blaise’s Church, which was a memorial to war victims. By far my favorite experience was a walk on the city’s walls, built around 1200, modified with 15 forts in the mid 13th century, and then modified in the 1400s to prevent attacks from the Turks. The walls, which stretch 2 km around the entire Old City and stretch up to 25 meters high in some places, are quite impressive.

They are larger on the land side, 6 meters, but run between 1.5 and 3 meters on the sea side.

We entered through the Plie Gate, which acts as a drawbridge and was constructed originally to be pulled up and the key handed to the prince every night. The views of the town and the Adriatic were breathtaking. It was so peaceful watching the waves crash into the rocky coast, look down at all the little red roofs, the nuns tending their gardens, and taking tons of photos.

And, of course what vacation stop would be complete without good food? We ate our way through Dubrovnik….stuffing ourselves with gelato, delicious seafood, including the world’s best calamari (Katrina this would be your favorite!!), pizza, and garlic. One of the professors on the voyage and his wife love garlic so much that they host a garlic themed party at their home every year, for the past 27 years! Since the weekend Professor Budd and his wife, Suzanne Sherber, normally host the soirée they were in Croatia, they invited many faculty and staff members for a dinner at a special restaurant that promised (and delivered) tons of fresh garlic.

Our last day in Croatia was spent on a leisurely walk with Lara. Both of us brought our laptops--me to work on the dissertation and her to work on cover letters. After we found a secluded little spot near the sea, we ran into my work neighbor (he works in Information Technology in the Computer Lab and my office is right next to his). His reaction to me doing school work was akin to Abby and Sarah's when they discovered I had once spent a large portion of a weekend on a visit to see Pauletta at Duke at Duke's library. Listen!!! I never claimed to be cool!

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Istanbul and Ephesus

2007-11-13T21:25:00.000-08:00

Semester at Sea’s arrival in Istanbul, Turkey dawned cold and rainy. Standing on the ship’s deck as the vessel moved into port meant that I could no longer deny that it is fall in many parts of the world. It was as if someone flicked a switch and turned fall on for Semester at Sea. We went from sweating at the Pyramids to shivering in the cold rain of Istanbul (I know everyone is feeling appropriately sorry for me), to taking refugee in the warm Starbucks, oh-so-conveniently located across the street from our dock. In addition to crisp, fall weather, also waiting for me in Istanbul was Pauletta, who had secured time off from Everyone’s Favorite Judge and fellow Wahoo, Justice Steele, to make the journey. (Everyone also knows that Roylene is really the person who reads my blog in that courthouse so I want to be sure to give credit where credit is due.) Pauletta is a good friend and Delawarean who owns the house where I reside in C’ville. Her extremely kind landlord ways (which make no financial sense for her whatsoever) make such things like Semester at Sea possible for me. My first visitor from home, we headed out to eat our way through Istanbul since the food warnings provided to us by the ship’s medical team in our logistical preport meetings were significantly reduced in Turkey. Tired of eating Pepto chalk, we lived on the edge and I gorged myself on salad (the ship has nothing on Arch’s salads) and delicious desserts, including a warm, molten chocolate soufflé the size of a small swimming pool. After a most enjoyable dive into the vat o’chocolate, we checked into our hotel, before confirming plans for our cruise up the Bosphorus the following day.

Since our visit to Turkey fell during the off-season, there was only one daily cruise up the Bosphorus, although in the summer there are numerous jaunts up the river. Despite the nippy weather, Pauletta, and two of friends of mine from the ship, Lara and Laura, decided that we had to see what all the hype was about riding up the Bosphorus strait from the Sea of Marmara to the Black Sea. (We are kept from actually venturing into the Black Sea by the Turkish military’s oversight of that channel, although they did make their military presence known on our cruise!)

Our ride stopped a six, quaint little piers along the way,

in addition to providing us views Dolmabahce Palace (a highly decorative Baroque palace that is a tribute to the Ottoman rule)

and the Fortresses of Europe (1452) and Asia (1396-7). Built fifty years apart, these fortresses were constructed in anticipation of invasions into Constantinople. At the end of the cruise “line,” we were able to grab lunch at this funky fishing village known as Anadolu Kavagi, where the Genoese Castle from the 1300s provided us with a beautiful view of the Black Sea.

Istanbul is a unique city in many ways, with a rich and varied cultural and religious history. Perhaps most famously, Istanbul is an enigma, straddling both Europe and Asia; the Bosphorus bridge, constructed in 1973, serving the first physical link between European and Asian straits. This is perhaps even cooler than keeping one foot in Delaware and the other foot into Pennsylvania. You be the judge!
After another dinner of delicious salad and fruit juices, (I never thought I could be so excited about lettuce!) Pauletta and I hit the bus station for our 11 PM departure to Ephesus. After two bus transfers, a breakfast of white bread and your choice of olives, butter, or jam, and nine hours, we arrived in Ephesus. The hotel/rug shop Pauletta where Pauletta had made our reservations was so charming in its décor. (By the way, the Turkish are famous for their rugs and somewhat infamous for pressuring tourists to buy said rugs; our inn keeper was no such pressure salesman.) The friendly owner of Hotel Bella (www.hotelbella.com) advised us to take naps before heading to the Grotto of the Seven Sleepers, a Byzantine-era tomb. Legend has it that this necropolis is the final resting place of seven Christians who fled to the caves to escape religious persecution, only to be sealed into the cave for two hundred years under the orders of their persecutor. Just down from the grotto, we enjoyed a delicious lunch of savory vegetarian crepes and chocolate banana crepes, positioned on floor cushions at a very traditional restaurant while American hip-hop music reverberated against the walls.

Like the chocolate and bananas, it was a pleasing experience mixing two very different parts of life—ancient civilization with modern hip-hop. I think the ancient Romans would have approved.
Tummies hanging out, we pressed on and headed to Ephesus’s biggest tourist attraction, the ancient ruins. Despite the coolness of Istanbul, we were able to walk around this ancient city, known as the best-preserved classical city in the eastern Mediterranean region, without jackets. First established as a Greek urban center in 1000 BC, Ephesus became well-known as the hub for the worship of Cybele, the Anatolian fertility goddess. The ruins we visted came later, from a 4th century Roman city, established by the Roman general Lysinachus, Alexander the Great’s successor, whose Roman rule helped make the city the number one port on the Aegean.

Although silt buildup led to Ephesus’s decline in prominence as a port center, this urban area is still known for hosting two councils of the early Christian church in AD 431 and 449.

Many believe that the Virgin Mary spent the days before her death in the area and that St John the Evangelist cared for her there.

Incredibly, only 20% of the city is believed to be excavated, but we still needed the entire afternoon to wonder through the city’s ruins. Particularly impressive was the Gymnasium of Vedius complete with pools, toilets, exercise rooms, and baths (the model for the modern ACAC, Sarah????);

the theater with the capacity for 25,000 persons, painstakingly cut into the side of Mt Pion during the Hellenstic period and later renovated by the Romans, still used occasionally for performances today;

and the Gate of Hercules, believed to date to 4th century AD and marking the entrance to Curetes Street, well known for its statues of civic leaders.

My absolute favorite part of the ruins was the Library of Celsus, though injured by the Goths and later, by an earthquake in 1000, was restored to its splendor.

The Curry School has nothing on this library! Beautiful replicas of the original statues of Sophia (wisdom), Ennoia (intellect), Arete (virtue), and Episteme (knowledge) are in nestled into the building’s front; the real statues are in Vienna as the Austrian Archaeological Institute was responsible for the library’s restoration.

This early bibliotheca, constructed by Celsus Polemaenus’s son in memoriam of this Roman governor’s death in 114, held 12,000 tomes with a one meter gap between the inner and outer library walls to protect the books from heat and humidity.

Once again, I was all set to finish the dissertation under the watchful eyes of Sophia, when I was pulled away for dinner and rest at our hotel.
After visits to rainy Selcuk, the Ephesus Museum, the remains of the Ephesus Byzatine church, and the Basilica of St John, believed to contain the tomb of St. John, we headed back on our bus to Istanbul.

On our last day there, we visited one of Istanbul’s main tourist attractions.

The Blue Mosque derives its name from the tens of thousands of blue Isnik tiles covering the mosque’s interior. This architectural wonder, known as the most famous religious building in the world, was created under the orders of Sultan Ahmet between the years of 1609-16. The mosque’s multiple domes and semidomes are adorned with beautiful painted mosaics, and while the original Venetian colorful stained glass windows are long gone, the replacement glass covering the mosque’s 260 windows allow for magnificent lighting in the mosque’s central prayer space. The mosque’s creation was controversial because of its six minarets, viewed by many as a blasphemous attempt to rival Mecca’s architecture.
A trip to Istanbul wouldn’t be complete without a visit to Aya Sofya, (aka Sancta Sophia for you Latin scholars out there) Istanbul’s most well-known monument. Completed in 537 under the orders of Emperor Justinian to restore the splendor of the Roman Empire, it was known as the highest Christian church until it was converted into a mosque by Mehmet the Conqueror in 1453; in 1935 Ataturk declared it a museum. The Christian mosaics in the upper level of the museum were really exquisite in their colors, but just stepping into the interior of the huge dome with its intricate and ornate interior was completely awe-inspiring.

Truly, a must-see!
Low on funds and slightly fatigued from sight seeing, I decided not to pay the ten New Turkish lira required for entry into the Basilica Cistern, but Pauletta would have none of it. A visit to the cistern had come highly recommended to her from a friend who made her way on a previous visit so there was no arguing. Although a third of this aqueduct system was bricked up in the 1800s, touring the underground water cistern was absolutely worth the trip. Dimly lit with classical music permeating its walkways, its architectural strength derived from its 336 columns, each over eight meters high, this network of underground tunnels was created under Justinian in 532. The Ottomans did not even realize its existence until a century after they’d captured Istanbul. My favorite part of the self-guided tour, besides watching the huge fish (large in number and in size calling the aqueduct home) were the two columns resting on stone Medusa heads, one upside down, the other turned on its side. Supposedly, these bases are a result of the Byzantines thievery of previous moments and are considered a memorial to water nymphs. They were really just so cool. For those of you who have lived with me, think of my hair when I first get up in the morning for an apt visual.

Purchasing blue “eye” charms as is Turkish custom to ward off evil spirits, and going back to the ship with every cent spent, as is Alexis’s custom, Pauletta and said our goodbyes and drank Starbucks one more time in celebration of her birthday. Happy Birthday, Pauletta!

Egypt

2007-11-05T03:30:00.000-08:00

As if passing through the Suez Canal wasn't enough (pictures from either side of the canal above) I rode a camel at THE pyramids. Not just the pyramids, but THE pyramids. My experience in Egypt was truly once-in-a-lifetime for me and even though we arrive in Croatia tomorrow, I still am trying to wrap my head around all that I saw there. Yes, I know, I am behind on updating my blog, and will need to spend some time thinking up all I want to share about Turkey, too, but my five days in Egypt refuses to be hastily digested. A two day sail to Turkey after Alexandria and Cairo was not enough time for me to truly reflect on the rich history of Egypt. Throughout my time in Egypt, I was repeatedly reminded of just how good I had it growing up having to learn U.S. history. The poor Egyptian schoolchildren have a far more arduous task of learning their nation’s past. The Egyptians and the Romans before them had been hard at work building cities with vibrant cultural and economic identities, as well as strong government and religious bases; their efforts began long before the pilgrims sailed to Plymouth Rock or the American Indians had to worry about sharing their land. As a result, this blog entry is made more dense than past entries given all of the historical info I’ve included. Don’t worry! It’s good for you to know these things.

My first day in Egypt began with a visit to the ship’s medical clinic—7 AM clinic hours when we are in port. Despite all of my prior best efforts to steer clear of the bubonic plague, I admitted defeat gracefully, was given a nice stack of drugs, and sent on my way. By the way, the ship’s doctor and nurses are some of the greatest women I’ve ever met. Perhaps it is because they are all from Alaska, where it is technically illegal to reside and not be cool (many of us are already scheming about how to finance future visits there for King crab leg feasts.) Due to the plague, I laid low, took some supplemental Vitamin C, finished the rest of the horrid, terrible Deylsum cough medicine (thanks, Mom!) and prepared for my early morning departure to Cairo the following day.

I traveled to Cairo on two air-conditioned bus with 65 Semester at Sea students and Manal, our superdooper guide, who has forgotten more about Egypt than I will ever know about her country. In Egypt, in order to be a guide you must have a college degree in Egyptology and after two days with Manal, I could see why. She told us everything we wanted to know about her country; a small history lesson for you follows: Cairo was founded in about 640 BC and became the capital of Egypt under the Fatimite caliphs. In 1517, the Ottoman Turks captured and ransacked the city. Napoleon-led French forces occupied Cairo between 1798 and 1801, then the British until 1922, when Egypt became an independent kingdom. In 1952, Egypt became a republic. Easy enough, right?

After driving through Al Qahira, Africa’s largest city, we arrived at the oldest Egyptian cemetery, Sakkara. The Step pyramid of King Zoser, masterfully constructed by the legendary Imhotep almost 5,000 years prior, stands here. According to Manal what made this pyramid so incredible was that it wasn’t made with perishable materials as so many of other previously-built tombs (msataba) and temples had been constructed. This tomb wasn’t just an architectural marvel because of its unprecedented structure as a pyramid but because it was made with hewn stone. This pyramid ascends upwards to the heavens in six steps--a height of about 60 meters—a wonderful warm-up for the next day’s journey to the pyramids of Giza.

One of the absolute greatest highlights of Egypt and my entire Semester at Sea experience occurred at our arrival at the National Archaeological Museum in Tahrir Square, where the broadest collection of Egyptian artifacts in the world is housed. I LOVED being in the museum, taking in eleven well-preserved mummies from the Royal Mummies Hall. Pharaohs and queens during their time on Earth, these mummies were meticulously preserved right down to their hair and fingernails. As to not disturb the mummies, talking above a whisper was strictly forbidden. Many of the essential artifacts deemed necessary for the individuals in the afterlife were included in the museum; I would probably include such essentials as Bess the dog, aka Shnoozums, Mikey the horse, frosting, and perhaps a couple of cell phones so I can communicate with all of you in the afterlife.

What you may have guessed to be the most spectacular exhibit in the museum absolutely was. The Tut Ankh Amun collection was breathtaking. Not bad for a king whose short reign of nine years was considered to be of little historical significance. Tut was only nine when he ascended the throne, a time when the children of today would be training for future mixed synchronized swim team competitions (see Sea Olympics entry below for more details). I admit that I had some mild anxiety about the collection since I’ve heard that King Tut is on tour in the Windy City, but as our guide said, “Only small pieces of the collection are in the States now. Propaganda, it is!” (Sorry Betsy and Mark!) We only got to spend two hours in the museum, but I could have spent two days. King Tut’s tomb was discovered in 1922 by an English archaeologist, an earlier find unlikely due to the presence of a much more lavish, and more pillaged tomb of the nearby King Ramses VI. Many contemporary archaeologists believe that 80% of King Tut’s treasures were actually made for his predecessors, but at the time of Tut’s death all of their accoutrements were thrown in with his.
There were 1700 pieces in the Tut galleries alone, including two lifesize statues of him, a wig box, a throne covered in sheet gold, semiprecious stones, numerous golden statues to protect Tut in the afterlife, a clothes collection that would make any fashionista jealous and intricate gold jewelry laden with semi and precious stones. Talk about bling! What I really, really loved was Tut’s astonishing solid gold death mask, which covered the mummy’s head and was set inside a series of three sarcophagi much like a nesting doll. The 11kg mask was an idealized portrait of the young king; similar inlay comprises the 110 kg smallest coffin. The medium sized coffin is made of gilded wood, while the outermost sarcophagi and the mummified Tut remain in Luxor at the Valley of the Kings. The detail, design, vibrancy of the gold and jewels of the two innermost coffins were unlike any artifacts I’ve ever seen. Tut’s sparkle makes Dorothy’s ruby slippers in the Smithsonian look like Payless specials.

After a lovely stay at the Hilton Cairo where God (or was it King Tut??) smiled down on me and secured a single room for me, we rose with our 4:15 AM wake-up call. Perhaps even more impressive than lucking out with an odd number of trip participants and nabbing the single room, was the fact that all of our students rose with the call as well. Nobody wanted to miss the chance to ride camels at sunrise over the pyramids at the Giza Plateau. The last existing Wonder of the Ancient World, the Pyramids of Giza are the world’s oldest tourist attraction, built by generations of families. When Jesus Christ was born the pyramids were already 2500 years old! Since our group was a tour group and only tour groups are allowed in before the pyramids officially open, we were extra lucky to have the opportunity to climb aboard a camel.

Since we had to ride in twos, my friend, Meagan, didn’t have time to think before a camel guide approached us and hoisted us up on his camel. Our camel, whose name was Mickey Mouse, soon joined the pack of other camels, who we later found out went by such names as Cassius Clay, Donald Duck, George Bush (glad we didn’t ride that one), and Michael Jackson. I think the sunrise pyramid pictures speak for themselves. There is NO way I will ever forget riding a camel at the pyramids. Ariane, Nicole, Les, and Kathryn note the good form--heels down, toes up. Equitation over fences on camels at WEF, anyone?

Archaeology tells us that it is most likely that the tens of thousands of men who built the pyramids were organized farmers, supported by the uncovering of a workers’ settlement. How the placement of all of the stones were exact done to the millimeter, I cannot wrap my brain around it! These pyramids were constructed in accordance with the Egyptian belief in the power of the connection between the Earth and the divine; the pharaoh was the conduit for the people’s connection to the gods. The pyramid shape was chosen because it’s similarity in shape to the sun’s rays. Each pyramid had a funerary temple attached to it where people could worship the king long after his death. Originally, all of the pyramids were covered in polished limestone that would have made them shine like the top of the Chrysler building. By now, the limestone has been stripped away.

The Grand Pyramid of Khufu is the largest pyramid in Egypt and the oldest in Giza, standing 146m high (reduced by 9 m after 46 centuries) and completed in 2570 BC. About 2.3 million limestone blocks, each weighing 2.5 tons, were used to build the pyramid and all of them, ALL OF THEM, were precisely positioned.

The quarry for the limestone was not located particularly close by so how they got these 2.5 tons blocks there is unfathomable to me. Scaling the pyramids, though a popular tourist adventure for centuries is no longer allowed. A Semester at Sea student was actually killed doing this forbidden activity years ago.

The pyramid I actually went into initially seems larger than Khufu’s pyramid, but at 136 m, only appears that way because it is on higher ground and its tip is coated in limestone. The pyramid is not hollow inside as I expected, but, in fact, were largely solid stone. No cathedral ceilings here! A small entrance tunneled down to the burial chamber where Khufu’s sarcophagus still rests. In the distance, outside the pyramid were three smaller pyramids known as the Queen’s Pyramids, the tomb of King Khufu’s wives and sisters.

In addition to visiting the Citadel of Salah al-Din,

where we visited the Alabaster Mosque of Mohamed Ali, the founder of modern Egypt, seeing the Sphinx was another highlight of the my trip/life. This feline man was labeled a sphinx by the ancient Greeks because of its physical resemblance to a mythical winged monster with a female head and lion’s body. Think of this creature as Batman’s The Riddler, killing anybody unable to answer his riddles.

Constructed from the rock found near the Pyramid of Khafre, it is believed that the Sphinx was actually constructed during King Khafre’s reign. Somehow between the 11th and 15th centuries, his nose was hammered off, although there are stories that Napoleon was responsible for the deed. The Sphinx’s head is noticeably disproportionate to the rest of his body, prompting the offering of an infinite number of explanations through the generations.

Part of his fallen beard was pillaged by British visitors and is now on display in London’s British museum. While the Sphinx is actually being eaten away from the inside (pollution? Rising ground water?) and some recent restoration efforts have only further contributed to the damage, I found it most remarkable to be visiting such a recognizable figure. I loved seeing him in the flesh.

The final highlight (and there were many others: traveling down the world’s widest river, the Nile, on a river cruise boat; shopping at the Khan El Khalili Bazaar, open for business since the 14th century; attending the ‘Son et Lumiere,’ a sound and light show projected in the evening sky onto the Pyramids and the Sphinx; visiting the Catacombs of Kom El-Shuqafa, a spectacular three-level funerary complex dating back to the 2nd century BC; walking the perimeter of the summer residence palace of the late ex-king Farouk, overlooking Mediterranean) was visiting Bibliotheca Alexandria during our last day in port. Alexandria is the largest port in the Arab Republic of Egypt, founded by Alexander the Great in 332 BCE. This city enjoys the legacy that comes with all of the responsibility and privilege afforded to the ancient world’s cultural, intellectual, and economic Mecca. For all you Latin scholars (Bueller? Bueller? Stacy? Connie? You know who you are!), this is the scene of the dramatic interaction between Cleopatra, Julius Caesar, Mark Anthony, and Octavia. Bibliotheca Alexandria, built on the same grounds where the famous Library of Alexandria, established by Ptolemy in 288 BC, was located was intended to be one of the most architecturally magnificent structures of the modern world.

The library was opened after seven years of construction in 2002 and has eleven different levels. While not the world’s largest collection of books (555,555 are contained within) it is a truly magnificent architectural design, including unbelievably refined computer search engines and one of only two printing presses in the world that can reproduce an entire book in 20 minutes—the world’s fastest press. This is a bibliophile’s idea of heaven, for sure!

I was just about to sit down and finish my dissertation, when our taxi beeped and we had to head back to the ship. Our driver, who spoke limited English, asked us “where from?” and when Paul and I said, “America,” he replied, “George Bush no good” (insert thumbs down gesture).” “Americans good” (insert thumbs up gesture). No doubt, I’ll be back to Egypt. Who’s coming with me?

Happy Birthday, Bestest Slap!!! I hope your birthday is great!

Sea Olympics

2007-10-30T05:14:00.000-07:00

Every voyage, one of the Semester at Sea resident directors has the privilege of organizing the Sea Olympics. The Sea Olympics is a day of no classes on the ship where students, staff, faculty, lifelong learners, and dependent children participate in a variety of events including soccer, twister, limbo, sock wrestling, flip cup, ping pong, board games, trivia, basketball, etc.

This year the Olympics occurred for the first time while we were passing through the Suez Canal, during our eleven day sail between Chennai, India, and Alexandria, Egypt. Teams are organized based on the “seas” where one lives; seas are akin to a residence halls on a land campus. Team names include the Yellow, Aegean, Adriatic, Mediterranean, Caribbean, Baltic, Adriatic, Bering, and Red Seas.

Then, of course, there is the sea made of faculty and staff known as the Dead Sea. Our battle cry throughout the Olympics was “Not dead yet! Not dead yet!”

And we weren’t! As we made our trek through the Suez Canal, we emerged fifth…a respectable finish given the depth of the field. I participated in both the limbo and the synchronized swim team events (I knew my experience in fourth grade on the synchronized swim team would pay off someday--look at those pointed toes). Two faculty members, two faculty member’s wives, the assistant executive dean, and yours truly gave a performance that was memorable if nothing else. Pictures are below…Who says there isn’t time for Beijing 2008????

Chennai, India

2007-10-25T03:45:00.000-07:00

I am way behind in sharing my experiences in India; I have been busy and I have really needed time to process everything about my time there! Life on the ship is soooo incredibly full. A typical day normally starts out not seeming so packed, but then is quickly filled with meetings. While I have a standing 11 o’clock meeting everyday, most of my other meetings are impromptu—faculty and students stop me to talk in the dining hall, in the faculty/staff lounge, in the bathroom, in my office, and my way to and from any of the above places. Basically, there is no place that is “on base” from work talk; faculty need to talk to me about students with academic issues in their classes (poor attendance or performance), students need to talk to me when they are sick and miss class, if they have questions about grades and transfer credits, or if they need general academic support. Every single day they are evening events that call me, too.
In this stretch between Chennai and Alexandria, we have had three sea socials (which are parties for each of the eight seas; think of the “seas” as residence halls on a land campus), a staff member’s 26.25 birthday party, a session on women’s leadership (featuring seven professional women on the ship including yours truly), a panel with the ship’s captain and three major officers, two interviews for students learning anthropological interview skills, a bridge (or command center) tour, and meetings and practice for the Sea Olympics (where I was entered into the synchronized swim competition against my will; I hope my skills from being on the synchronized swim team in fourth grade will come back to benefit me), a facilitation session with students on racial and class privilege called Archie Bunker’s Neighborhood, and a Captain’s Dinner with other faculty where the wine glasses are never empty. All of these excuses aside, I did have a glorious time in India. India is so many things—it’s a menagerie of color, it’s hot, it’s dirty, its beauty is both raw and refined (often at the same time). Visiting India includes an awareness for contradictions--it’s light, it’s dark, it’s spicy, it’s indifferent. People in India are intelligent and proud; they live in gated communities; they are homeless. India is rudimentary and sophisticated, welcoming and joyful, and gut-wrenching sadness.

My time in India began with a wonderful adventure. We arrived in India early in the morning on Monday, October 15th and right away you could smell the city. The air was dense with pollution and intermittent currents of waste, sweat, food, smoke, and exhaust. I took the morning to organize my life. I took a much-needed nap and did some filing and color coding to soothe my nerves. After venturing out into the city with two colleagues for dinner about 30 minutes away from our industrial port, I returned to the ship to meet the group of 28 students and 1 adult whom I would be leading on a three day trip to rural India in a small town called Erode. A wonderful thing about being a trip leader is the opportunity to get a 50% discount on trips. This homestay trip had come highly recommended to me by two of my fellow UVMers and past Semester at Sea staffers, Joe and Joy, so I knew I had to do it. While numerous students boarded planes to the Taj Mahal, we boarded an overnight trip for an eight hour overnight train ride to an area more south and west than Chennai, a city named Erode. The train station itself was an adventure—uber crowded and with the obligatory rats that almost always accompany mass transit stations, we boarded the train. Since we were on the 10:30 PM train, my job was to assign bunks (we did not have sequential bunk reservations) between two cars—each car was complete with double bunks. Lest you think that I was navigating this whole train adventure on my own, I must tell you that I met our logistical host at the station. Dr. Muthusamy and his wife (pictured here) live in Chennai, but they were accompanying us to Erode.
We had been cautioned ahead of time to sleep with our passports and our money on ourselves, keep our overnight bags under heads as pillows, and tie down our shoes. We had one bathroom per car, which, let’s just say was not up to Linda Andres bucket brigade standards. Each bunk was provided with a pillow, two sheets, and a blanket. Curtains could be pulled shut to provide some privacy. Periodically the conductor liked to stick his hand through my curtain to turn the light on and off, via the switch that was somewhat inconveniently for me located near my window. While this and the reverberation of the train were enough to provide me with a mild case of insomnia, I was also pretty worried about the large number of rupees I was carrying on my person. Like any good traveler, I had my personal money and passport secured in a money belt tucked into my pants. However, as trip leader, I had held the task of converting $600 USD into rupees to pay for transportation and to make a donation at a school we were visiting. Since the exchange rate was 39 rupees to every 1 USD, I was carrying a pretty hefty stack of rupees. Already feeling the equanimity of my responsibility for my students and my own tendency to lose important things like money, wallets, keys, passports, etc, I was guaranteed a relatively sleep-free evening.

Arriving in Chennai at 6:30 AM, we split into two groups. One group of ten went with Dr. Muthusamy and his wife to stay with a host family, while I took a group of 20 to meet another family. We had an approximately 45 minute bus ride to the village of Jayaramapuram, where our guest family lived on a huge farm. Our hosts had hosted Semester at Sea participants for 20 years—we were their 39th group to visit. The gargantuan gated farm was owned by Mr. Jayaraman and his wife, but our primary hostess was Mrs. Purni Krishnakumar, who was the daughter-in-law of the Jayaramans.

Purni, in her late30s, had two daughters to help with the tours. All of three of them spoke perfect English. Vedhika, the eldest at 12, loved to read and talk about all she was learning in school. Anniya was seven and a bit more mischievous than Vedhika; she seemed to prefer activities like stealing her sister’s books and chopping off the heads of Barbies. While this seems like a perfect time to launch into a discourse on the perfection of eldest children, I will resist until a later time. Right upon arrival, we were welcomed into the house which was very airy and open, with lots of courtyards.

Mrs. Jayaraman had 12 women working for her in and around the house. A crew of nine men worked the farm, although she said that during really busy harvest season she hired additional hands.

We visited the room in the house known as the family shrine, filled with statues of family deities. We were also served some of the most delicious tea and coffee of my life—very sweet and milky that was so good Starbucks was almost erased from my mind. We got settled into our bedrooms—12 were sleeping in one big, open room and eight slept in the guest house. The beds consisted of straw mats and blankets with the exception of two beds—by sheer luck I ended up with one of the beds.

The tour of the farm was amazing—sugarcane, cotton, coconuts, flowers, mango, and guava trees. One of the workers gave us a demonstration of how to climb the coconut trees and let the students try; it is so much harder than it looks.

After we finished our coconut milk, consumed straight from the coconut, we headed to a coconut processing factory.

I don’t know about you, but when I typically think of factories, I think of conveyor belts, warehouses, uniformity, concrete, and steal.

What we found instead was a large fire pit, a few machines used sparingly because of their electricity consumption, and employees engaged in hard, physical labor.

At the coconut factory, they were working on turning the skin of the coconut into rope, but the crew of nine made sure to conserve every part of the coconut—nothing was thrown out as the milk and meat of the coconut were used for food and the hulls were used to feed the fires necessary for the rope processing.

The operation at the sugar cane processing factory that we went to next was also similar in its effectiveness. We watched the male workers shred and “juice” the sugar cane by running the stalks through a “mashing” machine (yes, that’s the technical term) and then boil the juices that are excreted in the mashing process. Under the “shade” of a small shed, the juices were boiled in a huge vat, about the size of a small child’s plastic swimming pool. The dirt and debris was skimmed off the top with the help of huge fisherman-like nets. Then the male workers gathered to dump what had to be an extremely heavy vat of boiling sugarcane water using their bare hands.

After the contents of the vat solidified, the women, many with babies crawling nearby, formed the sugar into lumps the size of a grown man’s fist.
These lumps were later sold in the local villages.

Speaking of local villages, after a nap back at our generous host family’s home, we ventured to the local market. The market was a traveling market that consisted of a few tables, but even more “plots,” where merchants had set up their wares (clothing, produce, spices, toys) on large blankets. I took my time meandering and made purchases at two stalls. As I was leaving the market, a man came up to the student I was walking out with and held a camera in his hand. “Camera?” he asked in tentative English. I just picked it up and said, “Oh, thank you, that’s mine.” I hadn’t even realized I lost it!!! And the man was not someone I had purchased anything from; he must have been a proprietor whose stall I had just stopped to look at on my cook’s tour of the market. As a world traveler, the camera is obviously very important to me (and my sister, Lauren, since the camera is technically hers, but as a newspaper writer she understands that such incidents like this one are important for dramatic effect). However, that shiny little Cannon has even more potential for the man who found it given the paucity of flashy, electrical gadgets in that village or any other village within a large radius of Jayaramapuram. The man’s honesty was especially impressive not only because of the camera’s monetary value, but the anonymity of his find; I would have never known that he had it without him finding me. This gesture was just one of the many ways India showed me that class doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with the number of rupees in your pocket. As many close friends and family members can attest, this incident also proves that you can take Alexis out of the country, but you can’t take the loser out of Alexis.

The entire time we were in Erode, we had a flexible schedule that allowed for us to nap, eat, drink, and be merry whenever such desires overtook the group. Our hosts were so gracious in opening their home and village to us that we were able to experience rural India in a way nobody who went to the Taj was able to do. Sitting in their courtyard we talked about favorite foods, arranged marriages, religion, fashion, and families. We enjoyed excellent meals served on banana leaves with water that our hosts had ordered especially for us so we would be spared the infamous Delhi belly. The following day, we visited several schools: one an elementary school for poor children, another school for students of all ages who were affected by polio, and a third which was an entire secondary school for wealthy boarding and day students. At the schools, people treated us like royalty.

We were paraded on stage in front of entire student body’s to hear their daily assembly, which included prayers, anti-poverty pledges, and student reports (including one extra special report on Abraham Lincoln—just for us).

We were given books and candy. At almost all of the schools we visited the children spoke better English than we did.

Each school put on a dance and musical performance for us.

In turn, our group had prepared an a capella rendition of “Stand By Me,” which we performed three different times. We were also asked to dance on stage to music the Indian students picked for us, which initially required a lot of prodding but then turned into a crazy, wonderful mess as we got over the fear of looking stupid and let loose. Oh, and did I mention that in the same day, we went to a carpet making factory,

a medicinal/homeopathic remedy factory, a temple

and were led in a one hour mediation that put most of our group to sleep (as any good meditation will do). And while the highlights of the trip are almost too numerous to mention, one of my favorite part of the entire trip was the evening drumming performance arranged for us by our host family. A group of village men came to the Jayaraman farm at about 10:30 PM in the evening that first night. They played their drums and danced with bells around their feet for a good ninety minutes and invited us to do the same. They set a fire and periodically dipped their drums into the flames to tune them. Since it was so dark, my pictures were not the best, but I hope you can get the idea. They also invited the entire group to join them in their dancing and we did. The drummers didn’t speak English and we didn’t speak their Indian dialect, but the sounds of the drums were all we needed to have a good time that night.

Needless to say, given all of the festivities, when we were back at the train station to catch the 10:30 PM Express train back to Chennai, we were exhausted. Half of us got our heart rates pumping when half of our group was mistakenly told by a tour guide to get on the incorrect train car. As the train whistled sounded, we went running the 150 or so yards through the station to make it onto the correct car. With the pack on my back, (not THE pack, but a pack) as trip leader I was the last one on the train. Freed of my rupees and utterly exhausted, the vibrating train cot could have been the heavenly bed at the Westin; I was out until the conductor woke me at 5 AM for our stop. Back in Chennai, I had the chance to go to Dr. Muhutsamy's daughter's home for the Navaratri Celebration, a nine night/ten day Hindu festival of dance and worship of celebrating nine forms of the female goddess Shakti (metaphor for the goddess Durga. Here is their family shrine.

I spent the rest of my time in Chennai was spent exploring the city with Paul, my partner in crime in Bangkok, and Lara, my former partner in crime in Tokyo (who had been absent from my last couple of trips since her husband had joined us temporarily on the voyage). Lara, who grew up in New Jersey, “went Jersey” on a couple of the electric rickshaw drivers who kept changing the price of our fares, but, for the most part, we made it around town okay.

In the few occasions where we did walk, we proved to be easy targets for beggars. There were young children carrying still younger children who pulled at our sleeves, pockets, and purses as we moved quickly through the city streets of Chennai, begging for whatever we would give. My hand clutching my ship husband Paul’s hand, we ducked into Chennai stores to avoid beggars only to have them waiting for us on the stairs when we departed. We were told not to give money because if we did we’d be mobbed. It was such a terrible feeling—we wanted to acknowledge that we saw these people, these children, these babies, but we had the privilege of resenting their intrusion on our sense of personal space and decorum. I’ll be thinking about those people and about what the principal at the private boarding school said to me as we were leaving for the train station. In preparation to go, I was complimenting him on the intelligence and graciousness of his students. I told him that many of our students hoped that they could one day return the favor offered to them by the students and serve as their hosts in America. To that, he chuckled and responded, “Go to America? Why would anybody want to go there?” Definitely something I’ll be thinking about as we make the long journey to Egypt.
I am so late getting this out that in only two days we’ll be in Alexandria. We have proceeded through the Indian Ocean, the Gulf of Aiden, and the Red Sea. The last two days we have gone especially fast at 32 knots (faster than any Semester at Sea ship has ever gone) due to pirate activity in the area. Apparently there have been increased attacks on cruise vessels, but I didn’t catch site of Johnny Depp impersonators. After the ship’s Halloween party tonight, we hit the Suez Canal at 2300. This long stretch at sea has brought with a touch of the plague/sinus infection and homesickness/friendsickness. Please know that I am so grateful to all of you for reading this blog and thinking of me from afar. Don’t forget that someone in the Red Sea is thinking of you, too, and if Verizon-in-Network calling stretched to the Suez Canal, I’d be bending all of your ears. Sadly, my voyage is more than halfway over; only five short weeks remain. Thank you all for giving me such good things to look forward to when I return to the US. And special thanks to my student, Jesse Einstein (pictured below) who shared some of his pictures with me for this blog entry!

Thailand

2007-10-11T02:12:00.000-07:00

Our ship arrived in the Laem Chabang area of Thailand at 8 in the morning on October 4th. I was so tired that I didn’t get up to watch the ship come into port as I usually do, and knowing that we were coming into a pretty industrial port I decided to catch more zzzs instead. The original fall voyage itinerary included a stop in Burma, but given the tumultuous civil unrest there, the decision was made at some point over the summer for us to sail to Thailand instead. Laem Chabang is a good two and a half hours away from Bangkok, the first stop for many people on the voyage were heading because they were catching flights to a bunch of different Thai islands. The most popular location was Phuket, which attracted many students because of its beautiful beaches and its home to the Half Moon Party. The Half Moon party is known for readily available live music, alcohol, and drugs. A child of the 70’s myself, I felt no need to relive the counterculture of my infancy. Been there, done that.

Instead, it seemed like a much better idea to head to Bangkok with my friend, Paul. Semester at Sea sponsored buses for $29/one-way bringing us right into the city of Bangkok. I have to confess that the first thing I did when we got to Bangkok was enjoy a caramel macchiato from Starbuck’s. Starbuck’s coffee shops were everywhere around the Central World Plaza (a high-end mall) where we were dropped off and I drank my coffee (which they served in a real mug) like I was at the last supper. After a quick trip on the subway train, which was super easy to negotiate, we ended up at the hotel where some of our coworkers were already lounging in luxury. We figured that at least if we couldn’t afford such luxury, we’d enjoy as much luxury as they were willing to share with us. Since the immigration process took an extremely long time on the ship, and we were arriving in Bangkok much later than originally planned, we decided to take Anna and Augusto up on their offer to go to the hotel buffet. This buffet is not related in any shape or form to Ponderosa, Sizzler, or Marisa’s all-time favorite, The Golden Corral. It was out of this world. They had traditional Thai dishes and Western dishes. I enjoyed two made-to-order lobster tails. Two! And noodles! And sushi! And brownies! And ice-cream! After dinner, we had to be forklifted out of the restaurant. Paul and I quickly secured a hotel reservation nearby (vetoing places with features like “torture chamber beds,” “shared bathrooms,” and “prostitution is frowned upon here.”)
The four us then all met up for a Thai foot massage, which produced a euphoria akin to the feeling one gets when one finishes one’s dissertation, realizes that one’s salary will soon be quadrupled, or hears the news that David Beckham is leaving Posh for a certain 28-year-old grad student named Alexis who lives in Charlottesville. Since none of these things apply to me, as of yet, I am willing to devote the rest of my life to Thai foot massages, which run 250 bot or roughly eight US dollars. After an hour’s work on our feet, neck, and shoulders we were all asleep in our massage chairs and called it a day not long there after (it was about midnight when we left the massage parlor).
The next day we headed to the multi-building Wat Phra Kaew compound or Temple of the Emerald Buddha (which is, in fact, probably made of jasper quartz and not emerald at all). The Buddha, who cannot be photographed, first appeared in the 15th century, although it is not known who sculpted his image. In viewing the Buddha one also has to be extremely careful to turn your feet away from him and remember to cross your legs at the knees as to not show the soles of your feet to the Buddhas, since Thais believe feet are extremely dirty parts of the body. Apparently, the Buddha has changed location many times throughout his physical existence, but when he came to Bangkok in 1782, the King ordered him two robes made for both the hot and rainy season. Another ruler added a robe for the cold season. These robes are still changed at the beginning of each season by the king himself. The king, by the way, is much beloved in Thailand. He is 80-years-old and has ruled for 60 years. Many Thais were wearing golden bracelets similar to Lance’s Live Strong bracelets that are inscribed with Long Live the King. Every Monday Thais also wear golden yellow (considered a royal color) shirts to show their support for the king. Everyone we talked to from tuk tuk drivers, to people on the street, to waiters spoke fondly about the king. Respect for the king and country is one of the reasons why the 1956 movie musical, The King and I, is banned in Thailand. The 1999 Jodie Foster movie, Anna and the King, is also banned since the Thai government views these movies as laden with historical inaccuracies.

If there are words to describe the magnificence and intricacy of the Emerald Buddha temple, I don’t know what they are.

The more than 100 buildings on the grounds were painstakingly covered from their foundations to their gilded roofs in glassy, colored mosaic pieces.

The ornate detail of the architecture and the bold colors of the mosaic patterns adorning the temple was unlike anything I’ve ever seen before; I can’t imagine the minds that came together to build the vision for such a great temple.

Nor can I imagine all of the human power that went into its construction. Kind of puts a dissertation in perspective. The inside of the buildings were no less impressive with extensive murals running from floor to vaulted ceiling depicting scenes from Thai royal history. The temple is, in fact, adjacent to the monarch’s former residence, The Grand Palace, which is now only used for special ceremonies and remains closed to the public.

After a leisurely tuk tuk (or open taxi ride around town--see the picture of Anna and August below) we stopped at a much smaller Buddhist temple, as well as a tailor shop, jewelry shop, and shopping center (the latter three stops were taken to by our drivers without our request; we found out later that they got gas vouchers each time they brought tourists to these shops). The afternoon of chauffeuring cost us 20 bot (or less than one US dollar); similar time spent by a NY taxi driver easily would have been around $100.

The next morning, both Paul and I (after some hotel pool time and going out time) boarded the subway train to the public bus station, where we paid 95 bot (roughly 3 US dollars) for the 2 ½ hour bus ride back to the ship. The bus station was so easy to negotiate and we had just enough time to run to 7-11 before we snoozed on the air conditioned ride home. Once at the Laem Chabang bus stop, which appeared to be just a white median line in the middle of a very busy highway we ran for our lives to a taxi and paid 200 bot (roughly $6.50 USD) for the 10 minute ride to the port. Both Paul and I had to return to the ship, me to fulfill my duties as duty dean, and Paul as resident director on duty. Typically in the middle of the port, the duty dean’s responsibilities are pretty minimal. However, sometimes students find themselves in trouble and need to go to the hospital or lose their passports and need to go to the embassy or make other, more creative, poor choices that are too numerous to mention here. While my two days of duty required me to stay within one hour of the ship and take a ship cell phone with me at all times (you know how many of you I wanted to call; it’s like giving a drug addict being given her drug) I was able to explore Pattaya, which was about 30 minutes from the ship. Pattaya is known for its crowded beaches and its elephants. Pattaya is also known as the prostitution capital of Thailand. We walked through the town in broad daylight and noticed a large amount of old, unattractive White men with young, sometimes really young Thai women. This was not my favorite part. The good news was we happened upon a really cool park and I decided to work-out as instructed by the signs in the park:

Scary, I know!!! Look at that intensity!
We did eventually come to a golden Buddha at the end of our stroll through Pattaya,

as well as a hotel wine bar with amazing 360 degree view of the city.

From far away, Pattaya is beautiful.

Now, less you think I have nothing good to say about Pattaya, I will tell you about my time with my third favorite animal in Pattaya, the elephant (Mikey! the horse being the first and dregs who are REALLLLLL good being the second).

At the Pattaya elephant village, there are tons of elephants to feed bananas to (elephants eat 20% of the body weight a day so they need lots of bananas).

You can also ride the elephants. Some of our students opted to ride them during one of their four daily baths—yours truly decided to photograph the momentous occasion instead.

Unlike African elephants, only Asian male elephants have tusks.

Interacting with these gentle giants was such a unique experience—I loved how it felt to have their trunks vacuum up the bananas.

I also loved telling the student who called to tell me that she went swimming with her passport and ruined her Thai visa that I was riding an elephant and would need to call her back later.

And should any of you think that Paul and are planning to run off to Bangkok and elope anytime soon (Mom! This means you), I want you to know that Paul was the out and proud organizer behind the ship’s observance of The U.S.’s National Coming Out Day. This event, held on October 11th, intends to increase awareness and understanding for members of the gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender community and their allies. To show our support on the ship we made safe zone stickers to hang on our doors.

While there was no Joy Pugh from UVa here to make the day’s events truly stellar, I can tell you that the majority of people on the ship participated. It was wonderful to see how accepting this generation is of the LGBT population.

After a stop in Singapore to hook up to a barge for refueling, we arrive in Chennai, India. We have seven days at sea between these two ports, and the deadline for students to withdraw from a class occurs the day prior to docking, so I have a feeling that I’ll be pretty busy between now and then. Love to you all! Happy Fall!

Good morning, Vietnam!

2007-10-03T20:43:00.001-07:00

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I have found my entry for Vietnam to be the hardest to write because of my utter inadequacy in describing this beautiful country and its people. I thoroughly enjoyed my time in Vietnam. From the moment the ship began its journey down the river to our port the experience was a sensory overload—the smells of food from everywhere when we walked down the streets and traveled to the Binh Thanh markets, the beautiful colors on everything imaginable that was sold there (prepared lunches and raw produce, Polo T-shirts, North Face bookbags, lacquer work, embroidery, delicate fabrics, tablecloths, books, Buddhas, shoes, hair clips, jewelry), the diversity and beauty of the land. Cars were scarce; motorbikes were everywhere. In processing my experience (which is the one downfall of being a world jet setter—there is not enough time between ports to truly reflect on everything we’ve experienced) I realized my own assumptions about who and what I would find when I went to Vietnam. I imagined oppressive heat; and cold people, suspicious of Americans. Instead, I was greeted with some of the most loving and honest people I have ever met. People spoke very openly about their country—its poverty, its government—but also conveyed a pride comparable to that held by some of America’s most patriotic citizens. What differed from the pride held by the Vietnamese and the pride frequently held us the type of American pride worth emulating—was not a pride that ignored shortfalls or inadequacies, but a pride that made room for acknowledging what many would assume are its obvious shortcomings (its poverty; its decentralized, disorganized government; it’s weak infrastructure) AND also acknowledged Vietnam’s tremendous growth, it’s sense of community, respect for traditions, and love of family and country.

The heat in Vietnam was no greater than the heat we’ve endured in Charlottesville or Dover. For most of our stay in Vietnam there was a lot of rain, because it’s still technically the rainy season there. One really appealing part of our time in Vietnam was the fact that we had five days there—five days to truly experience and get to know the city. We learned to barter in the markets (you should typically always pay half of the price the merchant first offers) and to eat pho, a traditional Vietnamese noodle dish that is so tasty. We also ate some excellent shrimp that were wrapped around sugar cane and grilled. DEEEEEEELICIOUS. We sampled darien fruit, which are fruits the size of cantaloupes, but are covered in spikes. They smell like something rotting, but they are loved in Asia. We held our noses and tasted. They tasted liked onions to me, so I passed on picking up a huge bag of them, but others in our group really liked them. One of the things I also did while I was there was have two dresses made. I went online and picked two patterns that I liked and took them to a tailor. Each dress was $35 a piece and it was custom-made for me in only two days. It was my first real indulgence of the trip and I was in heaven when I put them on. Something else I didn’t expect was the fact that the American dollar was accepted in every market, restaurant, and store we went to when we were traveling. Everything was so cheap—so plenty of you will receive Vietnamese goodies from me upon my return to the U.S. One day we went to the spa at the Rex Hotel, whose bar the American generals used to go to during the war. I got a manicure, pedicure, and 60 minute massage for $23 (this was my second big indulgence of the trip).

One of the most touristy things we did in Saigon was to visit the War Remnants Museum. First known as the House for Displaying War Crimes of American Imperialism and the Puppet Government (of South Vietnam) when it was opened in 1975, the museum was later known as the Museum of American War Crimes. Its most recent name is a reflection of the normalization of relations between Vietnam and the U.S., but the museum does not make an attempt to be politically balanced. What I most appreciated about the museum was the collection of photos taken by 134 war reporters (from 11 different countries) all of whom were killed during the Vietnam War. There were so many powerful photographs, many which were later prize-winning. As you might expect, many of the photos did not paint Americans in a favorable light. Some of the pictures showed American soldiers pointing weapons at villagers. There were also graphic photos of bodies being dragged behind US tanks and pictures of GIs carrying corpses and partial corpses. I know there are similar photos with American GIs as victims that were not on display. Numerous photos in the museum were dedicated to the victims of Agent Orange (over 72 million liters of this chemical was sprayed during the war in Vietnam) and even more photos just showed the dead, from both sides, as they fell. There was also a section of the museum dedicated to showing the physical and mental torture methods used during the war, which I opted not to tour. I viewed instead the Vietnamese children’s painting exhibition and left the museum soon after that. The two others I was traveling with didn’t say much either—overwhelmed by what war can ask one man to do his fellow man. During our travels back to the ship, we stopped at the Reunification Palace, preserved in much of 70s décor, which was the sight of the transfer of power from the South Vietnamese to the North in 1975.

One of the numerous highlights for me in Vietnam was when I led a Semester at Sea trip to the Da Thien School for Handicapped Children. Our group of 12 students got to meet the school’s pupils and school administrators. We blew bubbles, colored, and played ball with the students who ranged in age from 2 to 24. The school was a private day school, supported by villagers in the area and wealthy Vietnamese living in America. I was so touched by how our language barriers didn’t prevent communication between our group. The students especially enjoyed the immediate gratification of our digital cameras and were insistent on posing for numerous photos. They loved our stickers and many, while initially shy, soon were inspired by the activity.

The last day we spent in Vietnam was truly magical. A group of eight of us traveled to the Mekong Delta and the Cu Chi tunnels with a private guide. Until the 16th century, the Mekong Delta was an area of marshlands and forest. Today inhabitants of the Delta cultivate rice, fish, soybeans, corn, tobacco, peanuts, and melons. The Cai Be area is famous for its coconut palms and fruit orchards.

By far, the best part of the trip is a boat ride on the Mekong River to observe the river life. This river is the longest one in Asia and stretches between five countries: Laos, Cambodia, China, Burma, and Vietnam. On our way to the delta we observed people working in the rice fields. Once there, we boarded a boat and traveled down the river. We stopped in a village to sample exotic tropical fruits like lychees, darien, pineapples, and coconuts, while the villagers played their traditional music.

Next up was a boat ride to a coconut candy making village and then a three-person ride on a large rickshaw of sorts to the next village. There we met Tommy, the resident python snake who claims to be friendly, and got to sample the local honey the area is famous for. (We passed on purchasing bottles of alcohol with small pythons inside.)

Next, we climbed into a small wooden boats that were propelled down the river by two villagers—one standing at the front of the boat and one at the back. The one at the front of my boat allowed me to take this photo of him.

It was incredible feeling to be floating down the Mekong River—truly a spiritual experience. Once back on our big river boat, our guide gave us coconut milk to drink (straight from the coconut) and we headed to the dock before making the 2 ½ trip to the Cu Chi tunnels.

Located approximately two hours from Ho Chi Minh City, Cu Chi is famous for its 200 km network of underground tunnels. These tunnels were created by the Viet Cong forces during wars with both the French and Americans. From the mid-1940s onward, the tunnels were used as a base from which the Viet Cong could launch strategic attacks and then disappear into thin air. The tunnels have well-hidden entrances and thick roofs which were able to withstand the weight of tanks and the impact of bombs. Unknowingly, the Americans even built a base camp on top of an existing tunnel network and suffered severe casualties before they realized their error. Our guide explained, with the aid of replicas, how the Viet Cong created smokeless stoves and inconspicuous ventilation holes to escape detection from the American forces. There were three different levels of tunnels at Cu Chi. After restoration for tourists, most of the tunnels are still only two feet wide and five feet height. During the war, the first level was for fighting, the second, deeper level was for living, and the third, deepest level was for fleeing.

Given that it was the rainy season, we only had the option to go 100 meters at the first and second levels. Despite the fact that the tunnels were lit up with electric lights, they were extremely cramped. Many of the pictures we have from the tunnels are of each other’s butts, because we had to walk and crawl through the tunnels while completely hunched over. These were not for the claustrophobic. I was nervous about going through them, but I wanted a small sense of what it felt like to live and fight from those tunnels. It is unimaginable to me. There was also a chance to shoot some of the weapons used during the Vietnam War—M-16s, etc. I had absolutely no interest in this, but I am afraid that many of our students who visited Cu Chi came away with thinking that they crawled through some cool tunnels and got to shoot an M-16. For so many of our students the war seemed to have no presence in their consciousness at all. I am grateful to my high school teacher, Mr. Maroon, who taught a semester course on the subject and to Pete, a Vietnam War veteran and my sister’s godfather, who once allowed me to interview him about the war for the same high school class. I have not forgotten.
Back at the ship, we thanked our guide, Mr. Phuong, and rushed to make it for "on ship time" (two hours before the ship is supposed to depart from the port).

Hong Kong

2007-09-27T09:12:00.000-07:00

Friends, Romans, Colleagues, Countrymen and women (as Ish would say) I have missed you so! This stretch of the trip has brought a little stretch of homesickness and I have missed my family, my wonderful friends (both the ones reading this blog and the others that rely on others to read the blog and tell them what’s happening), Take-it-Away, my UVa football, the ONSP crew and quote board, Oprah (new episodes—Tab, are you watching? Learney and That Jeff can’t be trusted), my dissertation…nope, not really, just making sure you were paying attention! I think I’m experiencing just a small taste of the frustration that can build when you live and work and eat and sleep and work-out (occasionally) all in the same place. It’s just so frustrating (that’s for you, V Hawes!)
A case of the blahs is probably not very well aided by the fact that I’ve developed a nasty head cold and had to cancel the trip I was leading through the Cu Chi Tunnels in Vietnam (I’ve come a long way in my relationship with nature) because the medical clinic didn’t think exposure to a 200-kilometer network of underground tunnels formerly used by the Viet Cong would help my sinus infection. They did think it was appropriate to charge me $135 for a five day antibiotic, however. Eeek! Good thing I noticed the charge and opted instead for the Linda Andres approved remedy of nonasprin, Delsym (gross and disgustingly vile cough medicine), and Neosporin. The supplementary upper respiratory drugs I got talked into at a Hong Kong drug store were also deemed not in my best interest. Something about it not being good to take medicines when you can’t read the language on the box to identify the contents of the medicine…surely it was just the Cantonese equivalent of Anacin. I think the nurse in the ship clinic wanted to give me an IQ test for purchasing and taking a medicine I couldn’t identify, but if she thought it, she kept it to herself.

But I digress…Hong Kong was wonderful and lovely and fabulous and amazing; I would go back in a second. I would just try to plan for that second to occur when it was monsooning, which it did for much of the two days I was there. Despite the rain, I was eager to looking forward to the city giving all the talking up Justin did about the place he used to call home. If the truth is told, I was feeling a little wistful that I hadn’t taken the plunge and made arrangements to head with one of the many groups of Semester at Sea students and professors heading to the Forbidden City and the Great Wall. Doing so would have not only cost me a good deal of denaro, but I would have lost one day (out of two) in Qingdao and one day (again out of two) in Hong Kong. One of the professors on the voyage, an emeritus UVa faculty knew that I was second guessing myself, assured me that while it was likely I’d experience Beijing in my lifetime it was much less likely that I’d return to the port city of Qingdao and get to explore China in a complete different, which was wonderful in it’s own way even without all of the big tourist “must-sees.” The experience was certainly authentic; there wasn’t any of that hollowness that sometimes can accompany rushing from site to site.

The group I traveled with in Hong Kong initially included three resident directors and two professors for most excellent dim sum. Dim sum actually translates to the “heart’s delight” and is technically a variety of foods—little fried and steamed dumplings, veggies and meats prepared in little bite size pieces, frequently with a little and airy pastry-like dough. Plus, there was hot tea. Always there was tea. Delicious! After our fabulous meal, I headed to the Hong Kong Museum of Art, which was three floors of art that included Chinese calligraphy and landscape drawings, as well as the feature collection on loan from Great Britain—art from over 25 different countries. It was really quite impressive and fun to do on my own. I also hit craft fairs, Hong Kong’s Walk of Fame, complete with stars’ names and hand prints, the gelato café (I had red date and lotus seed gelato in honor of the Mooncake Festival), the city skyline laser light show, the night markets (where you barter with the vendors to get the best deals).

Unfortunately, by the time we made it to the Temple Street night markets it was raining so hard that we couldn’t enjoy the appeal of the open-air markets. Instead, we headed for a dinner of Peking duck (hoo knew?) and it was delicious, if a former vegetarian can be so bold in making those claims. Betsy, when you come to Hong Kong you will have to include duck in your food reviews! Despite the rain, we courageously went back to the ship, changed into our third outfit of dry clothes for the day and headed out again to a bar called Felix which had been billed by many as the best in the city. What I learned is that when you are talking about a city like Hong Kong—“the best in the city” means something! Located at the top of the Peninsula hotel this restaurant and bar had panoramic views of the urban skyline and the harbor on its two longest sides. The drinks and dessert were just out-of-this-world delicious. I highly recommend the summer passion fruit martini and the chocolate air-whipped mouse. Just bring your graduate student aid for the year; it was not cheap!
The next morning fellow faculty member and UVa all-star, Patty Wattenmaker, and I met our group of 58 students (some twenty less than the confirmed number of paid participants) at 8 AM to lead a Semester at Sea trip to Lantau Island. We attribute the small numbers to the fact that many students were exhausted from their 1 AM Beijing-return flights that morning. Lantau is the largest outlying island of Hong Kong and home of the Po Lin Monastery, the main center of Buddhism in Hong Kong. On our way to the monastery we stopped at the Tai O fishing village, which is built on stilts in the river and was the home of Hong Kong’s salt panning industry for over 100 years. The village was nestled in the mountains and quite beautiful to explore even in the rain—the small homes standing tall in the water and the numerous residents selling their wares—mostly live and dried seafood in the streets.

The biggest eel I have ever seen calls Tai O his home, although I’m sure he is no longer among the living, having graced someone’s dinner plate not long after we departed.

Back on the bus, we stopped once more…this time at Cheung Sha Beach, famous for its white sand beaches, which were perhaps not fully appreciated by everyone given the steady downpour There we visited the world’s largest outdoor Buddha—approximately 26 meters high.

We also enjoyed a multiple course meal at the monastery, which was the heartiest and best multiple-course vegetarian meal I’ve ever had. Even those who were uneasy when they found out the meal was going to be a vegetarian one, left sated. Our hour and half ride back to the dock, brought many views of the government owned livestock that just roam the country roads acting as mowers—huge steer just standing in the road with no concern for our haste to get home to the ship and get dry. It was truly a magical day and one that was easy on the wallet, given that our fees are waived in exchange for our trip leadership. The ship sails again; Saigon here we come!

Qingdao

2007-09-22T06:20:00.000-07:00

Slate gray, rainy skies greeted us upon arrival in Qingdao, China, thanks to the typhoons that had recently vacated the area. The port we docked in was much more industrial than any of the ports we had been to previously. In getting through the port we dodged big, heavy-duty trucks carrying massive of steel and lumber; this was certainly not a Carnival Cruise Lines stop. Our group’s first order of business was to find money, which was a lot harder to do than in Japan. We headed out into the soggy streets, attempting to use ATMs at bank after bank, but we were unlucky in finding machines that would accept our foreign cards. Our group of ten or so finally made it to one bank which was already crowded with Semester at Sea students as this was a bank that allowed us to do a U.S. cash exchange. Unfortunately, most of us were not traveling with a passport, which was required to do the cash exchange, so my poor friend, Lara, got stuck exchanging stacks of money for at least five different people. The bank was very cautious in handing over their currency and several U.S. bills were rejected because they were deemed too wrinkly or too old or even too new. Money safely in hand, though, our group of seven headed to a Chinese hot pot restaurant for lunch. At the restaurant we ordered a bunch of different foods that we cooked in a pot of boiling water in front of us—think the fondue restaurant, The Melting Pot, but much faster and cheaper. The seven of us ate lunch for what amounted to a total of $5 in U.S. bills. The whole experience was enhanced by Jessica, one of the ship’s resident directors, who grew up speaking Chinese and, thus, ordered everything for us.

Next stop for us was the Tsingtao Brewery and Beer Museum, which was actually quite interesting even for someone like me, who doesn’t care for beer. The museum was really visually stimulating with video displays in each showroom detailing the history and timeline of beer production in Tsingtao, which all began with the German occupation of Tsingtao over a century ago. Through the windows, we could see the many people who were hard at work bottling beer and packing it for shipment. The trip to the brewery was also cheap, about $7, which was considerably less than the Semester at Sea sponsored trip to the same spot. The special bonus was that the beer was really, really good; who knew? Glasses emptied, (Tim, you’d be proud) we could think of no better way to cap off our afternoon of drinking than with a trip to St. Michael’s Catholic Church. Built by the German architect Pipieruch in a Gothic and Roman style, the church could have been located in any European town so white were the Baby Jesus and Virgin Mother! If Some Chinese characters inside the church, were the only indication of the church’s Asian heritage.

While the monsooning weather kept us on the ship that evening, we were unwilling to let the rainy winds keep us inside the next day. Our group diminished to five, we hailed a cab and made it to a Japanese mall, conveniently located right next to, you guessed it…Wal-mart. Now, this is not your Dover, Delaware, Wal-Mart! There was fresh seafood as far as the eye could see, both your eye and the eyes of all of the huge fish packed on ice there. Going to Wal-Mart was such a sensory overload experience, with tons of smells and brightly packaged everythings.

We had a good time combing the aisles to see what brands were recognizable simply by their labels (Coke, Lays potato chips, Sunmaid raisins to name a few) and then headed out for our true sensory experience of the day—lunch. Since Jess speaks Chinese, but doesn’t read it, she asked our waitress to order for us their most well-known dishes. Since one dish was a fish dish, the waitress returned to our table with a fish, alive and flapping in its net, to get our approval. Not long after we met our fish, we proceeded to eat it and another huge soupy, spicy dish of prawns and rice. At the advice of the ship’s doctor, we popped Pepto pills, put on the gloves, and went to work at the food and the beer! The food was so incredibly tasty, but extremely messy. Exhibit A is below:

Needing to be wheelbarrowed out of the restaurant, so bloated were we from our feast, we were greeted by warm sunshine, which was such a nice change from all the rain. After several more hours of walking and shopping, the group that was now three, headed to Qingdao’s famous pagoda, beautiful in its color and architecture. Also from the Pagoda we could see a huge, red mushroom structure on the mountainside, a post of sorts built by the Germans to signal to ships coming into the port.

Positioned discretely in the coastal skyline of the city, the pagoda would have been a relaxing, contemplative spot if it weren’t for the mob of Chinese people that followed us while on the pier. The Chinese locals could care less about Jess, who, with her Chinese speaking skills was hands down the most valuable person in our threesome. Almost everyone on the pier seemed fascinated by Akirah and me, the Black woman and the chemically-enhanced blonde woman, some taking firm holds of our arms and dragging us into pictures. At first it was kind of amusing, but as people grew increasingly firm in their hold on us and their insistence that we pose, the situation grew more uncomfortable. We’d pose for one photo, but tons of cell phone cameras would go off as people rushed to get pictures of us. All the while, we were sporting the “dirty, drowned rat” look, which, although popular in some parts of the world, is far from my best look and will, of course, prove to be quite scary later when the photos are passed around to friends. After the pagoda, we made is safely back to the ship for a quiet sail to Hong Kong—so many students meeting us there since they chose to fly to Beijing to visit the Great Wall. I swear I can feel the extra buoyancy as we near Hong Kong. I appreciate all the letters I have to read on my way!

Kyoto

2007-09-19T07:26:00.000-07:00

After an emotionally exhausting day in Hiroshima and my walking marathons in Tokyo, it would have been all-too-easy to relax a little during our last day in Japan. Given the fact that a Japanese marching band had made the effort to greet us upon arrival in Kobe with songs like Under the Sea and 76 Trombones, I felt like the least I could do would be to make an effort to live it up during my last day in port.

I am the type of traveler that is willing to be adventurous—and only need a push from someone to take the plunge in traveling that hasn’t involved pre-planning or color-coding. Two students I knew from the Hiroshima trip had talked about going to Kyoto, independent of a Semester at Sea organized trip, and that sounded good to me. In another display of her wonderfulness, our Hiroshima tour guide, Rumi, provided us with directions to Kyoto, leaving us without an excuse not to go. We met at 6 AM Sunday morning and after an hour-long train ride, we arrived in Kyoto. The former capital city of Japan for more than a thousand years, Kyoto is also known as the cultural center of Japan. The city is filled with Buddhist temples too numerous to count (we later found out that someone did count; there are over 1600 temples). We hit the Nishi-Honganji Temple, the Higashi-Honganji temple, the Shosei-en Garden, the Nijo Castle, and the Kyoto Imperial Palace—it was a hot, humid, muggy day, but the scenery, the time with the students who I otherwise wouldn’t have gotten to know, and the chance to participate in a religious ceremony in a foreign tongue is something I will not forget any time soon. Japan will be missed!

Hiroshima

2007-09-16T17:33:00.000-07:00

One of the trips I have been most looking forward to prior to coming on this voyage was a day trip to Hiroshima. While I feel odd saying that I was looking forward to going to a memorial for the 140,000 Hiroshima lives lost (a best estimate for the number of deaths through the end of 1945 and not including the unknown numbers of related radiation deaths) I was eager to hear the Japanese presentation of the Hiroshima bombing and its preceding events. Would the presentation of the events be entirely anti-American? How could such a memorial not be entirely depressing? What good would I take away from the experience? Buoyed by my belief that if society doesn’t learn from the mistakes of her past she is doomed to repeat them, as well as my desire to simply bear witness to Hiroshima’s history—to say, I came, I saw, and now I can never forget or deny my own responsibility in preventing such a similar tragedy no matter how uncomfortable or upsetting. At the same time I understand that with knowledge comes responsibility to act and perhaps part of that action is simply writing this blog to share with you.
Yesterday two coach buses of Semester at Sea students made their ways to Hiroshima and the Peace Memorial Museum. Upon arrival we saw the remains of what was once called the Industrial Promotion Hall, built by a Czech architect in 1915. It was one of the few buildings that retained some structural definition after the atomic blast annihilated this city at 8:15AM on August 6, 1945. There was a movement to completely demolish the building after the war, given the painful memories the building invoked for so many, but a schoolgirl persuaded the town to preserve the building. Today the building is known simply as the A-bomb Dome and is on the National Historic Registry. Not far from the building is a clock tower that always chimes at 8:15 in the morning in remembrance of those who lost their lives in the bombing.

The Children’s Peace Monument was the next part of our tour of the park. The stone monument is essentially a statue of a young girl holding a giant origami crane—which is the Japanese symbol of health and longevity. The base of the monument is encircled with garlands of hundreds of thousands of paper origami cranes in all different colors. These cranes are made by children from all over the world and until recently they were in the open air. However, they are now encased in glass because a Japanese college student burned all of the crane strings several years ago. In Japan elders worry that the younger generations don’t respect their country’s history, just like the reminders offered to America’s youngest generations by "those who have gone before."

Not far from this monument is the Flame of Peace, burning adjacent to a stone coffin bearing the names of all of the bomb’s victims—both direct and indirect victims. The flame will burn until the last nuclear weapon on earth is eradicated.

After snapping pictures of the oleanders in the trees, the first flowers to bloom in Hiroshima after the blast, we made our way to the museum. The museum entrance was backlogged with people; the entire building was crowded with people from all over the world, although the majority of the crowd was Japanese. The first half of the museum was a sterile look at the physics devoted behind atomic and hydrogen bombs, a chronological look at the significant economic, social, and political (ESP terms for you Mr. Riley graduates out there) events in Japan’s history. The bombing of Pearl Harbor, beginning of the “War in the Pacific” were also included, although the bombing of Pearl Harbor wasn’t discussed in proportion to its impact on the US. There were miniature models of the town prior and after the dropping of the bomb and mini-movies throughout the exhibits with news reel and cultural information about Japan prior to the bomb. They aftermath of the bomb was prevented in a straightforward way—the closest the exhibits came to an anti-American sentiment was stating that the Potsdam Declaration, which the US tried to get Japan to sign prior to the bombings, neither hinted at the possibility of America’s use of the bomb nor allowed for the continuation of an empire line in Japan, the latter a system of Japanese rule that had been instituted for centuries.
While the beginning of the museum wasn't particularly emotionally sirring for me, walking through the latter half was one of the most emotional experiences of my life. By far the most heart wrenching part of the tour were the rooms dedicated to accoutrements of the dead—melted watches, young children’s clothing, a lunch box, a water canteen, a tricycle, a shoe, even skin and nail clippings. Each display told the story of overwhelming grief and sorrow: the boy whose body was identified by his lunchbox containing food he told his mother that morning he couldn’t wait to eat, his body incinerated, his lunch turned to coal; the charred tricycle of a three-year old, who was buried with his beloved tricycle, only to have his body exhumed 12 years later for transportation to the family burial ground and his tricycle donated to the museum; the book of a child who never came home and whose body was never found, whose mother refused to let her stay home from work that morning when she complained of sickness, whose mother blamed herself until her death for her daughter’s passing; the left shoe of a child whose bones were never found, but whose shoes identified her to her parents given that she had sewn the sandals straps from an old kimono. Then there were the pictures of those who survived, but who bear horrible physical and emotional scars as a result. The entirety of these exhibits was just too emotionally intense for me to maintain my composure. City Mayor Tadatoshi Akiba called Hiroshima “a hell where those who somehow survived envied the dead.” I handed my headset over, signed the visitors’ book, and quickly left the museum.

What I took away from my trip to the museum, which I did not initially anticipate was a hope for peace. The message of the entire museum is hope for world peace and the eradication of nuclear weapons; it is not a museum interested in casting blame. There’s a sense that the museum can’t afford to divert energy from its peace mission in throwing stones. Every time a nuclear weapon is tested, the mayor of Akiba travels to the United Nations to make an official protest. The mayors do this out of respect for the roughly 300,000 hibakusha (A-bomb survivors), 95,000, of whom still live in Hiroshima today; they do this so this history will not repeat itself.
Back on the ship, I talked with a faculty member’s husband who fought in the infantry in WWII. He was and didn’t want to have to go back to the infantry; he did not want to be sent to Japan. He recalled being relieved when the bomb was dropped knowing that his nineteen-year-old-self would no longer be in danger of heading to the front lives. Whose lives were more important? The lives of our service-men not sent to Asia because of the bomb? The lives of the Japanese civilians who perished because the US troops were not sent? What happens to peoples, civilizations, and nations when we make such a distinction—when we elevate certain lives above those of others? What does that say about our legacy for our children and our children’s children?

Thinking about this reminds me of one of my mother’s favorite movies, Scent of a Woman, starring Al Pacino and Chris O’Donnell. In the movie a blind war veteran, played by Pacino, recounts a story to O’Donnell where a friend said to him, “When I was your age, I...” Pacino responded with anger, “You were never my age.” The quote reminds me that in seeing Hiroshima and trying to make my own sense of it, I must acknowledge that the context surrounding the decision to drop the bomb is one I never experienced.

Yokohama Mama

2007-09-14T01:33:00.000-07:00

Today we are back on the ship after two wonderful days in Yokohama and Tokyo. My whirlwind two days were unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. We arrived in rainy Yokohama at 8 in the morning. In Japan, unlike Hawaii, the entire ship does not have to go through immigration before the ship is cleared. Instead, all of our passports are reviewed by the Japanese officials while we wait on the boat to hear that we’ve cleared. We were hoping the entire process would take only three hours, but it was more like four hours. The Japanese government also brings an official onboard to do a thermal screening.” They ask for anyone who has been suffering from a fever, diarrhea, sore throat, or an upper respiratory infection to report to them in the ship’s medical clinic. Our ship doctor made sure to brief us on this as the people who take the Japanese up on their offer for a thermal screen don’t usually ever leave the ship. Needless to say, nobody from our program volunteered for the screening.
Once our ship cleared at noon, we headed to the train so we could make it to the Yasukuni Shrine and Yushukan (Museum). We had a trip leader who had lived in Japan for three years, which came in handy as the Japanese train/subway system is extremely complex. After a train change and a stop at the ATM, our group of 20 or so made it to the shrine. The rain had stopped and the weather was the perfect temp for walking around the grounds. This shrine was founded in 1869 as a memorial to the 2.5 million Japanese who have died in military service to their country. A statue of Masujiro Omura, a Japanese commander who defended the imperial Meiji government scowled at us upon entry. The shrine has a history of political controversy since the Japanese constitution explicitly renounces state-sponsored religion and militarism, but is still a well-visited site with hundreds of thousands of Japanese paying their respects each year. One of the students on our trip is Japanese and she explained to our group that we should approach the shrine, bow twice and mediate on something important, make an offer of 100 yen (this is a dollar or so as the exchange rate was 113 yen to the dollar) clap twice to awake the spirits and bow once more. There was also a small box to place a donation of 100 yen. The donation allowed you to select a fortune, written on Japanese and in English on small sheets of paper. If you liked the fortune, you were permitted to keep it. If the fortune was a bad one, you could tie it to the branches of the trees near the shrine to release it.
Since we were pretty exhausted at this point, we got back on the train and headed to Asakusa, which is home to the largest tempura restaurant in Tokyo. Tempura is basically batter-fried veggies and seafood and it was delicious. At this point, Lara, who is a professor of music on the ship, and I decide it is time to find our hotel which had been described by our two guide books as an “upscale capsule hotel” (think The Killers’ music video, “Read My Mind”). The capsules were described as one meter by two meters, with nice sauna facilities. Some would say this is akin to a small coffin, others would say this is a chance to be adventurous. As most of you know, I love a good plan, so I was feeling pretty proud for suggesting the capsule hotel plan (not knowing if there would be good pillows or not). Thus, you can see how it was then EXTREMELY daring and adventurous of me to accept Lara’s decision to wait until the morning we arrived in Yokohama to make our reservation for the hotel. When the internet was not available that morning and we were, thus, unable to make the reservation, I told myself not to worry, that we’d be fine. When it was 11:15 PM at night and we were still wandering around the neighborhoods of Shibuya with our overnight bags, I was screaming in my head, “We should have made a plan. If only we had made a reservation and highlighted it in pink!” As Lara is a new friend, I thought it was perhaps best to save any rantings about a plan for our second outing together in a foreign land...too much drama for the first.
Luckily for us, there were nice people everywhere who tried to help us. I was repeatedly touched by the number of people who came to our aid throughout the entire trip in Tokyo. Even more significantly for us was the fact that people helped us in English--as Americans so far from home we marveled at how spoiled we were and how unable we'd be able to return the favor should any of our Japanese friends travel to Virginia. At least four different people tried to point us in the direction of the hotel, but when we finally got to the alleged hotel area, we found a man who said the words the rest had been too kind to say, "closed." EEEEKKK! So, we backtracked our circuitous loop and found an inn to stay in--the beds were made of brick, the pillows of beans, the shower spickets faucets did double duty as the bathroom sink faucets, but we were safe AND we had robes & slippers to change into for the evening. AND we were in Tokyo!!! Life was good.
The following day, blonde heads bent over our Lonely Planet guides to Tokyo, staring up at the Japanese writing on the walls of the train station and back at our guidebooks, we encountered more kindness of strangers. A business man took the time out of his midmorning commute to approach us and walk us to the correct train. He told us he'd never been to the States, but he had been to Honolulu. Later that day we stopped for the Japanese delicacy of ramen noodles after a failed attempt to eat them at lunch (we ended up in a spaghetti restaurant as the numerous bowls of plastic noodles in the front of the restaurant looked like ramen to us. There we successfully ordered a meal where nobody spoke English and there were no pictures on the menu for us to "cheat" with. We had to order your dinner from a machine on the wall where you inserted money and were printed a ticket to hand to the host. The host gave us one tip by pointing to three different buttons and stating, "small, medium, and large." Apparently supersize me hasn't taken off in Japan because all three sizes cost the same. We paid our money and took the bibs he offered us, pretending not to notice that none of the other Japanese in the small, hole-in-the-wall restaurant were wearing bibs. We think ours said "dumbass American" on the front, but, again, since we can't read the language we may never know. The dinner was delicious (this is not the Ramen of your college days--or Andres sisters of your usual snacks)and since tipping is not done in Japan, we thanked our host by giving him a small bow and comforted ourselves knowing the joy we must have brought him while trying to make sense of the menu!
Our visit ended with a visit to the Imperial Palace East Garden, the only part of the Palace open to the public, where we were meeting our friend Kathy, the ship’s librarian. Perhaps because she was celebrating her birthday, she had made sure to confirm her hotel reservation the previous night, so we regaled her with tales of our 2984376529384765 mile hike around the city the previous evening.
We set sail last night at midnight. Today’s been a great ship day—only 80 of the college students are sailing with us to Kobe as many of them bought rail passes and are traveling independently between the two ports. The faculty and staff took over the pool in the afternoon where we lounged in the sun and then tonight we get a special five course dinner. Internet was blacked out in Yokohoma and is extremely slow today—so slow I can’t even read all of the emails much less respond to all of you who have sent me lovely notes. Speaking of lovely notes, Pauletta, Connie, and Sarah Campbell, thank you for yours. Real mail, especially when the internet is so spotty and the credit card companies can’t find you, is something truly special and much appreciated. Arigato, friends!
Finally, please know that in addition to "mastering" the Tokyo subway system (see attached map picture) I have mastered the scantron machine and have finished grading the 632 global studies exams which is one of the less glamorous aspects of my job. The students will have those grades to look forward to after Kobe. We arrive there at 8 AM tomorrow. Love to you all!

A Captain's Life for Me

2007-09-09T04:37:00.000-07:00

Last night I had the privilege to once again enjoy fine food and drink aboard the MV Explorer. The administrative team for the voyage (the executive dean, the academic dean, the field office manager, the director of student life, the assistant executive dean, and yours truly) as well as several faculty members were in for a delicious treat with the ship's officers. Our evening started with cocktails and hors d'oeuvres. The dinner was arranged so there were four tables with an officer at each table. I got to hear all about life at sea and earning one's captain's license. I sat at Staff Captain Kostas's table where we were served a five course meal with copious amounts of Chilean wine--red and white. Delicious. Captain Kostas is is second in command should anything happen to the ship's captain.
After a leisurely dinner in the dining hall that is seriously one of the best meals I've ever had (this is nothing like the dining hall at the Naval Academy Ring Dance--date from hell--you know who you are) we headed back to the faculty staff lounge where the Aegean Sea was having their sea social. The Aegean Sea is the name for one of the decks on the ship where students live; the Yellow, Mediterreanean, Caribbean, Baltic, Adriatic, Bering, and Red Seas are other decks that will also get the chance to have a social in the faculty/staff lounge which is usually off-limits to students. We had a dance party where everyone including the ship's officers got onto the floor and danced. We are dancing our way into Yokahama. Only two more days!

Tomorrow Has Been Canceled

2007-09-07T03:59:00.000-07:00

Life on the ship continues to move forward. So much so that tomorrow is canceled. Indefinitely. For those of you who are not crossing the International Date Line on Friday and will wake up on Friday instead of Saturday, please write and let me hear tales of your tomorrows. You see! This is the fine print that they don’t tell you about when you agree to sail around the world. I was planning to finish my dissertation tomorrow, too. Connie, since tomorrow is your birthday and tomorrow is canceled, be glad you are in C’ville instead of the Pacific Ocean.

Since add/drop has ended I have been able to get into more of a routine. I get up and go to breakfast before the dining hall closes at 8:30 AM, hit the gym, take a shower, and head to the office. I have had three successful treadmill runs on one of two treadmills on the ship. Running while the boat is moving is a little more difficult than I thought, but I feel like I am getting a really good work-out since I have to focus so much on staying on and upright. I am not nearly as bored as I usually am on the treadmill.

Tonight is our first official faculty meeting, where there will be hors d’oeuvres and an open bar. The dean says that this is a good way to ensure faculty compliance.

Speaking of open bars, there was an open bar reception held last evening for faculty, staff, and the ship’s officers. I got to spend some time with ship’s captain who married his third wife 3 ½ weeks ago after dating online for 20 months. She has only been on the ship once and according to the captain, never found her sea legs. The captain is a kick—a very dry sense of humor and an English accent. He loves to remind students that they are the ones with accents—NOT him.

Another highlight of yesterday was my selection for random drug testing. When the Queen of Popularity falls from grace, she falls hard. Apparently, they were unable to detect the unusually high levels of sugar in my blood due to my now almost dwindling candy supply, but I might not be so lucky next time. I have sworn off dessert at least until chocolate croissants at breakfast tomorrow morning. Since tomorrow is canceled, I should be in the clear.

Dinner last night was capped off by a beautiful rainbow—the first of what I hope will be many on the voyage.

Go Hoos! Beat Duke. Here’s hoping that we don’t have to wish for an International Date Line in C’ville on Saturday.

Muhalo

2007-09-04T02:11:00.000-07:00

Yesterday morning we were up at 5 AM to watch the ship come into Honolulu. It was beautiful to watch the sun come up and see the city. Then the entire ship had to then go through immigration (about 800 people since some crew members were disembarking). The US immigration officials come on board and then people are called up in groups to show their passports. Unfortunately, many of the foreign students were delayed in immigration and nobody is allowed to exit the ship until the whole ship has been cleared. Luckily we disembarked only one hour later than we thought we would into the beautiful, warm Hawaii day. Many of us headed to Pearl Harbor to the USS Arizona Memorial. It was a really beautiful, powerful memorial. We watched a movie about WWII at the museum and then we took a boat to the actual memorial. Everyone was just really quiet and you could still see oil rising to the top of the water from the depths below. The memorial placards listed the names of Pearl Harbor’s dead as on “eternal watch.”

After we got back to the ship from the memorial, we headed to Waikiki Beach—so beautiful. The beach was so warm. Justin, Megan (a Resident Director), and I hit the water. I was chastised repeatedly for talking on the phone, but I was trying to get in touch with as many of you as I could. I was so grateful to talk with those of you I did reach and I am so sorry for the ones I missed or who were “busy checking their messages” (you know who you are)—unfortunately I hadn’t charged my phone so my phone died a tragic death not long into the phone calling process. As Derick Dean Diver once said, “Overuse will kill anything.”

Honolulu was only a brief port stop for us and we were scheduled to depart at 11 PM. Everyone always has to be back on the ship two hours before, which is tricky since you don’t want to have to come back very early, but you don’t want to risk getting caught in a long security line going back onto the ship. If you aren’t back onto the ship by the designated time you get “dock time” in your next port, meaning you have to stay on the ship while others leave. Last night the line was sooooo long because some many students were caught sneaking alcohol on the ship. The two students in front of me had a case of Perrier. Ship security opened the case only to find that the water been dumped from the individual bottles and replaced water with vodka. Other students put alcohol in their shampoo bottles, in Febreeze bottles, in laundry detergent bottles. Several students had taped alcohol to themselves. One student was ordered to remove the alcohol he had duct taped to his groin—how security spotted this, I’ll never know. Unfortunately, when he pulled the tape back he received an added bonus of a duct tape waxing treatment. Ewwww, grooosss—right, Sarah, Abby, and Jen?

We are at the beginning of the nine day leg of our trip to get to I gain another hour of sleep tonight (we had three days in a row last week where we gained one hour each night). It’s a great system. We should try this more often in Charlottesville.

Lots of love to all of you and thank you to Pauletta and Sarah Campbell—who sent mail. I was so grateful to come to my cabin today and see some special notes from you. You made my day (hint, hint; nudge, nudge). Special snaps to Ish and E Bass who ran your respective races this weekend with panache—way to go ladies. I miss you all. Thinking of you!

2007-09-04T00:23:00.000-07:00

Add before I drop

2007-09-02T23:57:00.000-07:00

Greetings from 22 latitude 164 longitude. There is so much to say. Perhaps because I have been remiss in logging a blog entry in awhile….hmmmm. My apologies…Life on the ship has been extremely busy and the internet connection of late is just painfully slow. I have grown to hate UVa Webmail. I know, I know, some people were already on record hating it. I know. As you might expect, I have been terribly busy fulfilling all of the duties that accompany the role of the reigning Miss Popularity title. While you might assume that my charm and diehard love for UVa football (let’s refrain from discussing that at the present moment—the pain is still too raw, so Joe, save the email I know you want to send for another day or two) were the keys to securing my spot in the cool girl hall of fame you would be wrong. It is the add/drop process that has won me the title (For those of you UVAers, think Bryan Hall computer lab with just one person on the computer…me!) On Thursday, I began add/drop at 7 AM, giving out numbers to students who were lined up and then anybody who walked up. Picture a deli line (“what the sub is?”) except I was giving away credits, not yogaville sandwiches or veggie sandwiches on pump with house dressing. I worked until 5 PM that day and saw 170 students that day, all of whom had been camping out (some since 4 AM) in the hopes of getting the class they wanted. Day 2 began at 7 AM simply with the students who had shown up “on time” the day before, only to find that they were #171 in line. We gave out 349 numbers to students, many of them came back multiple times hoping to try one more time to add a class that was full. It was quite intense, but I got to meet many, many students. For the most part, the students were fun and when all was said and done probably 98% of the people were pleased with their schedules. Two of the remaining three percent were disappointed, but still pleasant. The remaining one percent who came into the office bemoaning how unfair the process was, how they needed the class to graduate, and how nobody told them when the process was started (I had three meetings with the student body, posted the dates in the computer lab and outside my office, made announcements on the intercom) were put on my personal list of students to walk the plank. I borrowed the classic Gordon Stewart, gms7y line, “Help me understand how your actions got you into this situation,” combined it with the ever popular “a lack of planning on your part does not constitute a crisis on my part,” and added a dash of “don’t start with that,” a sprinkle of “I see how it is,” and finished it off with a dollop of “it’s generally not a good idea to speak like that to someone from whom you want something.”
Justin, who sailed to Honolulu from Mexico and who came to educate the students and the faculty on the UVa Honor Code, acted as my bouncer and doorman. He made sure that I was able to get lunch and leave at 5 PM. On the last day, I heard him say, “No, no. She’s closed. Add/drop is over” and “I’m detecting a lot of attitude from you.” To celebrate we went out on the deck and shot some glamour shots (Miss Popularity does have certain official duties after all) and then went to the spa and had a delicious massage. That evening the astronomy professor had his class out on the deck looking at the stars so I checked out Cassiopeia, before hitting the faculty/staff lounge for cocktails. Every night cocktails are available from 5-6PM and then from 9-11PM for faculty & staff. Justin is a fantabulous piano player so he played some tunes for the entire faculty/staff group, while I did not sing and the world was better for it.

Stay Classy San Diego

2007-08-29T00:43:00.001-07:00

Greetings from somewhere in the Pacific! We have not yet moved our clocks from California time, but we are definitely heading due West. Online minutes have proven to be few and far between in the last 48 hours, and with all of the students now on the ship, the internet is especially slow. I am getting all of your special bon voyage emails, however, and I love them! Thank you for thinking of me. To update you, two days ago, I was in the Port of San Diego, making my way through umpteen orientation meetings, sneaking in runs around the San Diego Bay when I could. I realize that these runs are especially important because we are always eating on the ship. They say the quality of the food declines when we move away from the ports and into the sea, but so far it has only been good, good, good. Chocolate croissants at breakfast, peanut butter cake at lunch, pie at dinner—I am cut-off until I can get up in the gym and work on my fitness. This past Friday was interspersed with open bar social hours on the ship at lunch and at dinner; it concluded with a celebratory social in the faculty & staff lounge. We sailed from San Diego at 11 PM or 2300 hours Friday night (everything is in military time on the ship). It was such an incredible feeling when we left the dock and motored into Mexico (Good-bye, Ron Burgundy)—I was overcome with knowing that pushing off from the dock was the true start of the trip. The students weren’t on the ship (they had a two hour bus ride from San Diego to Mexico and met us the following morning) so the ship was practically empty with just faculty, staff, and crew. I crawled into bed at 200 hours and, although it seems like weeks ago now, arrived only yesterday morning in Ensenada, Mexico at 700 hours. Once arriving in Mexico, I jumped out of bed and hurried to my Check-In station to greet the 638 students coming on board (ONSP—I can’t ever escape Check-In—at least I didn’t have to make the signs this time, although there is much room for signage improvement). Six and a half hours later, everyone was checked-in and registered for at least 12 credits—you’d be proud, Rachel.

Then the entire ship had to head out for a lifeboat drill. We have life preservers in all of our cabins that we periodically have to wear around the ship for the drills. Only one person fainted when we have to stand in silent attention while the captain walks thorough and makes sure that we are adequately turned out for the drill. After the drill we had dinner and more orientation meetings. It was a LOOOOOOOOOONNNG day, but we were up bright and early this morning for a full day of orientation meetings with the students as we move forward to Honolulu, Hawaii. Not to boast, but, currently, I would be hard to beat in a ship popularity contest as 92847692834769238476529348 students have sought me out with questions about the add/drop period. Add/drop occurs for two days only, is conducted by yours truly, and happens only after the first two days of classes. The good news is I will have a ton of contact with students during this process—some of whom have already emerged as real superstars. The bad news is that I have two days to figure out how I am going to manually enter all of the add/drops for the students. Luckily, I supervise a wonderful work study student to help staff my office, which, before this ship was leased by Semester at Sea was the ship’s casino. It is likely that learning to operate the currently defunct casino will be the only way to maintain my current level of popularity after add/drop. I suppose all good things must come to an end.

One of the best parts of being on the ship thus far is that one of my friends from UVa is on the ship until Honolulu to give presentations to faculty and students about the UVa Honor Code. Justin’s presence ensures that I always have a partner in crime on the ship AND that I will never be without care packages. Learney, Ish, Connie Lee, Tim Him, and Tab thank you so much for all of the goodies you sent my way via Justin. Because of you I got a ton of laughs during a very busy day when I needed them. I have hung all of your photos, Misty and That Jeff’s photos, and Connie’s training certificates where appropriate, as not to scare the students. The Tybee Thug CD is in my player as I write and the school house pen is in use. The gummy bears have sustained me during many an orientation meeting. I also got to expand my wardrobe (thank you for the high heels, Lauren). I’m overly blessed as Paula Deen would say.

I’m off to bed. Sleeping on the ship so far has been like being rocked to sleep. So far the motion of the ocean suits me just fine, but others have not been so lucky feeling up with ginger pills, pressure bracelets, and Dramamine from the on-board clinic. Being on the ship feels like standing on one of those core boards at the gym—sometimes the resistance is set really high and sometimes it is much less and harder to balance. It’s not uncommon to run into people while walking on the ship or to have desk drawers open and the close as the ship rocks back and forth. Tomorrow I intend to hit the ship’s gym where my sea legs will truly be tested on the tread mill. Miss you!

Full Steam Ahead

2007-08-24T21:38:00.000-07:00

Life on the ship is moving fast. I can't believe that we sail for Ensenada on Sunday. There is still so much to do. Right now the ship is gearing up for two days of celebration activities to honor two men who have given 31 and 28 years of service to Semester at Sea, respectively. This all starts tomorrow. As a result, we are reaping the benefits of tons of free food and drinks. There are also loads of people (SAS donors, family members, and alums who have supported the program over the years) who boarded the ship today and will depart the ship on Sunday before we sail. It seems like you only have to sail one time to become a permanent part of the SAS family. From what I understand, these events make the goings on of the ship even more hectic than they usually are at the start of the voyage. As a first-timer, ignorance is bliss! My days have been full getting things ready for the students to come on Sunday. I'll need to oversee Community College sessions, which are basically sessions where faculty, staff, students, and lifelong learners (adult participants who pay to come on the voyage) can present on topics of their choice. Their topics can be academic in nature or pertain to something much more serious like procrastinators anonymous. These "community colleges" happen every night we sail with the exception of the two days prior to our arrival in any port. I am also responsible for academic advising with individual students, supervising a work study (work study students receive a 40% break on tuition in exchange for 3 hours of work per day when we are sailing) organizing the add/drop days (two days of course adding and dropping, where I manually enter add/drops into a database and then coordinate the purchasing of texts with the ship's bookstore) and supporting my dean with any academic issues that arise. Then I have random jobs like selecting movies to play during the evenings and supervising the scantron grading of global studies exams which are exams that all students on the ship have to take (I knew there was a reason I needed this Ph.D.). Fun stuff. I am also getting anxious to do some shopping at the Semester at Sea store (think UVa bookstore the first time you went in high school) but because we are in port, the store isn't open. US Customs forbids it! It's only open when we are at sea. In two days 638 students will board from over 252 schools and over 15 countries. ...

How Sweet It Is

2007-08-23T21:55:00.000-07:00

Friends,

I miss you all. I miss you even more than I miss internet access (and that's saying a lot since I haven't had any access since Tuesday; I am like a druggie looking for a fix). Sad, but true. I am using illegal internet of sorts right now. I cannot reveal how I am online to protect the guilty. Tomorrow there is promise of legitimate online usage and the ability to upload my photos, which I can't wait to do, but, enough about that. On to the good stuff!

I arrived at the ship on Tuesday after four fabulous days in La Jolla, California with my three best friends from college, Jen, Abby, and Sarah. (Yes, I did use six pillows under my head on the bed, but that is neither here nor there.) Those of us who are royalty make no apologies. Since Abby had to head back to Philly, we took her to the airport first and then drove our rental car (affectionately known as the big rig) to the port in the San Diego Bay. The summer Semester at Sea voyagers were just getting off as we arrived to the port. Sarah and Jen helped me haul my 1800 pounds of necessary luggage to the port authority. I have to say, it was empowering to have that much luggage (it would have weighed more, but Lauren cut me off. Some would say Lauren was my packing regulator, others would call her the voice of reason. I still think a yoga mat is a legitimate item to pack, but the enforcer was not deterred by my desperate pleas.) Whenever anybody like a bell hop would say, "Wow. That's a lot of luggage" I could say, "but I am traveling around the world." Very powerful indeed. Super special thanks to Madelyn who lent me the world's best luggage for this trip. I owe you my first born child.

After sad goodbyes with my roommates at the port gate, John, the world's nicest porter came from the heavens to haul said luggage through 89 security check points, up an elevator, down a long ramp to the ship where I boarded and received my offical ID card (Note to Jennifer Wegner: why did you let me take and send in that terrible, horrible, no good very bad CVS passport photo for my ID card? Big face is not my best look.) John refused all of my attempts to pay him for his services and told me to "buy something nice for myself on my trip." It was such a nice act of kindness right off the bat and immediately made me feel relaxed.

After proceeding through security, I got to my room which was another extremely nice piece of kindness. The room has a huge window with my own bathroom. It's located on the end of deck five (there are seven decks in all). The staff make my bed and turn it down everyday. I have a mini frig and enough closet and shelving space to make me think I could have indeed packed the yoga mat. I have a TV, phone, and fresh towels in the room. I am worried about what I will do when I return and there is no such staff awaiting me in Charlottesville. It's really quite nice and I will post real photos tomorrow as soon as I am able. The ship is also magnetized so I've been able to hang a ton of pictures around my room courtesy of some fun magnets from Connie Lee.

Once I settled into my room, I took a quick tour of the ship. It felt so surreal to walk around and think that this ship is going to be my home for the next 100 days. The ship is really shiny and clean with a good sized library, computer lab, student union, dining halls, gym, and faculy/staff lounge. Since Tuesday when I've boarded we had at least two socials in the faculty/staff lounge each day. Today our drinks and munchies were on the house, other times we pay for drinks by swiping our ID cards. It's so easy. There is also a really nice spa with massage and pedicure treatments. Apparently, you can just swipe your ID card for the charges and feel no pain until the bill comes at the end of the month.

Teaching faculty arrived today, but students don't arrive until the 27th, AFTER we've said to Mexico from San Diego. The schedule is nice because it allows us to ease into our roles and becoming a part of the shipboard community. Yesterday and today we've had almost nonstop orientation meetings, so it's information overload, but in a good way.

Finally, but perhaps most importantly, is the people that I've met thus far. I can't tell you how many people I've met who have sailed in the past. In my administrative team meetings I am the only person who is a first-time voyager. There are many more first-timers in the teaching faculty, but in the administration there are a lot of repeaters. It definitely feels like a family atmosphere. I absolutely love the dean who I will be working most closely with on the voyage. Dean Soffa is a material science professor at UVa, but has sailed before when he was on the faculty at the U of Pittsburg, which is the school that used to be Semester at Sea's academic sponsor. Even though I know nothing about the magnets he studies, I think we'll get along just fine. He is wondefully bright and funny and liberal (and I suspect he's a recycler, too, and he probably likes dogs (or dergs as Jill always says)--people like him usually do). Several of the people I've met who have helped trained me have been super friendly, too. One was even so kind as to present me with a gift of almost every chocolate candybar imagineable my first night here. Life is good!

I hope all is well in your respective corners of the world. I am sad to miss opening week at UVa, but I know my ONSP family, Him Tim, Constance, Tab, and Beth are doing the world's best job with everything going on in the Ville and that V Hawes will ensure that all of the Grounds for Discussion cast members receive Oscar nominations. I only hope that I can say I knew you when.

Lots of love and more to come!!! Alexis P.S. Happy Early Birthday, B! Enjoy the big D!

To Pack or Not to Pack...That is the Question

2007-08-08T20:58:00.000-07:00

I like to think that there are several things that I am good at. I am a good recycler. I am an excellent cake-eater. I am an expert (some might say professional) phone talker. I can teach the Good Old Song to anyone. I know how to peel an orange so the peel comes off in one continuous peel. I am pretty good at opening jars that nobody else can open. I know a synchronized swimming move or two. I make a mean list and am an A+ color-coder.
There are many things I am not good at. I am NOT a good packer. This is a problem. My roommate from grad school, Shannon, is an excellent packer. When I moved back to Charlottesville from Burlington she essentially packed my entire two years of Vermont living into my Toyota Camry. There was no way I thought we (the royal "we" is used here to protect the guilty) could do it, but she did. I think her packing skills were honed after years of voluntarily camping. Those who know me well that I would never voluntarily camp anywhere. I don't even like watching camping on TV. When I traveled earlier this summer to Maui for said roommate's wedding, I realized that I had not magically acquired any packing skills. For my six day trip to Hawaii (where in theory you only need to pack swimsuits) I was over the 50 pound limit for one bag by 17 pounds. Eeeek! If it's true that less is more, why does it hurt more to pack less?

By the Numbers

2007-08-06T20:11:00.000-07:00

I can't believe how quickly the Semester at Sea voyage is coming up. In preparation for the trip I've created this blog (thank you, Christian, for the tutorial), previewed it (thank you, Lauren and Tim, for serving as official testers), and got a plane ticket for San Diego (thank you, Pauletta, for donating your flight voucher on my behalf). Like a good researcher (Curry pride!) and procrastinator, I have reviewed the pertinent documents and have calculated a "by the numbers" edition for my MV Explorer voyage:
2001 the year the building of the ship was completed in Germany
918 number of berths on the ship
650 approximate number of students on the ship
590 length in feet of the ship
418 cabins on the ship (296 outside and 122 inside)
196 number of crew members
70 number of faculty and staff members
32 the cruising number of knots the speed of the ship can reach
954-538-6163 number to fax the ship
877-266-0986 number to reach the ship's receptionist, who will connect you to my room
$5 cost per page for sending a fax
$3.95 cost per minute for calling me on the ship
0 number of people who will actually call or fax me--that's what email is for!