Update?

Because many have been asking, here is the link to our blog entries in Berlin. These were compiled between myself, Brendan Rimitez, and Jennifer Swift as the Quad News Editors who went to Berlin. Editors Abroad

All My Bags Are Packed, I'm Ready to Go...

Once again, I find myself packed and preparing to leave the country. It's so odd to be sitting here knowing that another adventure is about to unfold. A new culture, new people, new country. My passport will be worn out after all of this--I'm going to need to retire it. Well, maybe not just yet.

After Wednesday's meeting with David and the rest of the Berlin bunch (you like that one, don't you?) I've never been more excited. This isn't the same as Semester at Sea--and I don't think anything ever will be. But it's different in a good way. Six days full of touring, panel discussions, conference meetings and internationally known Nobel Peace Laureates. This will be interesting and unique all in one big trip.

I've got enough school work to get done between now and my return, it's unreal. But like any good over-achiever, I'll somehow get it all done without sacrificing my grades or the experience. Thank God for 8+ hour plane rides! And aside from all my work, I'll also be keeping up with this blog AND a second blog! (Which, by the way, you should all read: Editor's Abroad)

The other blog will be maintained by two of my friends and co-editors on The Quad News--the independent online paper we work for. It will discuss the panels and discussions we sit in on and our experiences as students. It should be good. Anyway, somehow I'll balance all this work and whatnot while away. It also helps that college kids are professional non-sleepers. Somehow we manage to live a stimulating life on coffee (or alcohol) and all-nighters in the library.

Of course last night was no different for me as I was up until 3 this morning, too excited for sleep (not to mention the fact that I started packing at 1 am). And now it's just one more class and then off to the bus I go. Down to the airport and then hopping on a flight to Germany.

I just hope I packed everything I'll need!

Bonus Port: Berlin, Germany

It's time to whip that passport out again. Next destination? Berlin, Germany.

I am one of the lucky few students who will be traveling with the Albert Schweitzer Institute to Berlin for the Nobel Peace Lauriates Summit ceremony. From November 6-12, I'll be galivanting around Berlin, helping members of the United Nations and various Nobel Peace Lauriates. As the assistants to Mr. David Ives, executive director of the Albert Schweitzer Institute, we will (hopefully) be given access to exclusive conferences and panel discussions.

Ives's main goal of the conference is to convince President Mikhail Gorbachev to come to Quinnipiac as a guest speaker--and we're there to help convince him. We going to show Gorbachev that the students at Quinnipiac aren't as apathetic as they say and that we'd highly appreciate his presence at the university.

Amazingly, the university is funding majority of the trip so for less than the price of a one-way plane ticket to Berlin, we're being put up in housing, supplied all meals, and flights. Of course, to balance all of this out, I need to be willing to miss school for a few days, and put my most professional face on when dealing with the honorable people. I guess the open-mouthed gawking will have to wait.

And no worries readers--I'll be blogging my experience from overseas and most likely writting a story (or two) for The Quad News.

So really, how lucky am I?! Bahamas, Spain, Morocco, Namibia, South Africa, Mauritius, India, Thailand, Vietnam, Japan, China, Hawaii, Guatemala--and now Berlin? Customs is going to have a field day with my passport.

This is my first big adventure after Semester at Sea. And that lull I was dealing with all summer and this semester is gone. Now the only question that remains is--what am I going to pack?

The Overachiever

I am a self -proclaimed overachiever. I am okay with work, but I definatley didn't sign up for this.

This semster at school has been, by-far, the most stressful semester--and to think it's barely October.

It's 6 am--I have yet to go to sleep for the night. As a matter of fact, I just finished my homework. Now it's time to wash my face, brush my teeth, change into pjs, and crawl into bed...at least until my alarm wakes me up at 9 to get ready for class. It almost makes me wonder, should I just stay awake and sleep later?

Most people will say, "Well it's your problem that you are so stressed. You've taken on extra credits and more extra-curriculars then necessary." And while part of me does agree, I know I can handle the workload. I enjoy a heavy workload. I work better under pressure and, quite frankly, I study better in front of the television or with music on. Oddly, it's just the way I work.

What I did not sign up for, however, was a mass of professors who have the single-minded view that their class is the "best" class in the entire world and therefore my life should revolve around it. Sorry professors, that's just not the case.

My problem with this semster is that I have professors who refuse to assign work more than 48 hours in advance, and when they do assign it, it's hours worth of work, that clearly I cannot prepare for unless I have multiple hours to dedicate to it. Where I normally can keep two steps ahead of my work, I am working up to the minute to get things accomplished in preparation for class. Unfortunatley, I have yet to find the balance for this semester.

Granted, I am taking an extra 3-credits (one course), and while 19 credits may seem to be a large course load, I feel that if I took one class out of my schedule, I'd still have massive amounts of work to do and keep up with. On top of my class work and classes, I am president on the Society of Professional Journalists and an editor for the Quad News. Editing does take up a lot of time, but pending I have decent writers who are learning and developing in their craft, my task will get easier. Mind you, I'd also like to keep developing my own skills and maintain a somewhat steady writing schedule. And as prez of SPJ, we're working on creating a portfolio workshop for the school this fall...and I certainly can't let the ball drop on that.

My problem is that I hold my academics and my extra-curriculars at the same level of importance in my life and I refuse to let one drop and suffer to benefit the rest. I think it's important to build my resume up and my portfolio, but I also know that my transcript will say a lot about me if I end up decided to apply to grad school.

And that leads to the idea: are potential employers looking for a B+ student who is very involved or an A+ student with a dull, empty resume? But that's a different topic, for another day. Possibly a day when I have time to breathe and relax my mind.

Keep Moving Forward

It's surprising to think that six months ago my life consisted of travels and excitement, adventure and mystery.

Now instead of the ocean waves gently rocking me to sleep, I deal with late nights in the library and crawling into my squeaky, stationary bed sometime between 1 and 2 am. I no longer can talk with Kristen until the wee hours of the morning about the global exam we didn't study enough for, or our favorite memories thus far and the memories we are bound to have.

Now, my room is quiet and lonely. The open windows allow me to hear the passing cars and the quiet hooting of an owl, constantly reminding me of my static life.

It as if Semester at Sea put me on a high. Country after country, from the Taj Mahal to the Great Wall, how could you possibly be disappointed or upset about any of those experiences? Leaving each port and anticipating the next adventures only made life more exciting.

Life is different now. And that's not necessarily a good or a bad thing. It's just a fact.

I feel as if I was floating on a cloud, soaring high above the world--untouchable. And suddenly, I was dropped like a sack of potatoes, left to pick up the pieces of my life and start with this new perspective on life. The only problem is that my life didn't drop onto solid ground. Picking up the pieces isn't as easy as I anticipated it would be.

I am running in place, pushing myself faster and faster and yet I am going no where.

Instead, it's like I've fallen into a pit of quicksand. Every move I make to pick up a piece makes me sink faster. Naturally, human instinct is to stop moving. But if I stop moving, I still end up sinking. It's just a slower and longer process. So what's better? Should I sink slowly and allow life to pass me by like a movie of my life, but I'm only in the audience? Or should I keep moving? Keep pushing up, hoping to overcome the struggle?

19 credits. President of the Society of Professional Journalists. News Editor of the Quad News. And trying to find a job…it's going to be a long semester.

Just remember: deep breaths.

The Final Port

Another port is over, but I must remember that this is it—the last three days on land as a Semester at Sea student. Still, we all suppressed our depression and realization of arrival and had a blast in Guatemala.

Prior to our arrival in Guatemala we were warned by the Institute of Shipboard Education that Guatemala has a very high crime rate and that recently tourists have been a target in a few crimes. Due to the high crime rate in cities like Guatemala City, Semester at Sea implemented a curfew for all students staying onboard. Everyone who was staying on the ship needed to be back by 11 pm, and those staying off the ship were requested to be back at their hotel at a decent hour. After some serious cabin fever from long days at sea, the fear of being a crime target in Guatemala, finals, and Swine Flu (which, I must report, has NOT hit Central America yet)—you could say we’ve all been a bit stir crazy onboard.

Kristen and I decided to end our voyage with some fun exploration and good adventures. Accompanied by our friends Phil and Bryan, we made the last three days really count. As our first real friend on SAS, it was really great to close out the semester with our friend Phil and we really did a bang out job. The MV Explorer docked at 8 am in Puerto Quetzal, about an hour and a half or so outside of all the real towns. That being said, we previously made plans to stay in a hostel in the town of Antigua, instead of sleeping on the ship in our last port.

On our first day in port we went on a SAS trip to the Filadelphia Coffee Farm. We learned about the process of picking beans and how they are roasted and then, of course, we sampled some fabulous coffee—and then, after sampling, bought a few bags to bring home. Unbeknownst to us, the coffee farm was about 20 minutes outside of Antigua. So instead of heading back to the ship with our trip leaders, we left the trip early and the guys at the coffee farm arranged a shuttle for a HUGE group of us to get into Antigua. Of course, this shuttle was nothing short of a pickup truck. We rolled into town a few minutes later and did some exploration.

As always, the first stop was at the ATM to get some money. After that Bryan did some bargaining and got us a horse and buggy ride around Antigua. The half and hour tour consisted of a guide, Carlos, who spoke no English, so I ended up translating with Kristen. It was lovely anyway—we saw the ruins of the town and some old churches and really oriented ourselves in the town. After that we found a tour agency (which are literally everywhere—restaurants have them, hotels have them, the bank has one) and booked a trip for our last day to hike an active volcano.

Completely famished, we did what all college kids do best—find the local pub. And here we uncovered El Monoloco—and for those of you lacking in Spanish Translation: The Funky (Crazy) Monkey. Ironically the bartender, Zach, was an American from Minnesota who moved to Guatemala two years ago and just stuck. We rolled in around 5 and the place was dead—just the way we like it. We sat at the bar and watched a few basketball games and baseball games. However, we learned that from 5-8 it happened to be Happy Hour, which meant buy one-get one free on vodka drinks, rum drinks, and beer. Oh and did I mention it was Ladies Night too? We hit the jackpot. Needless to say, within an hour SASers were piling into the bar and by 9 we were…quite satisfied. Bryan had a service trip in the morning, so I bargained us a cab back to the port and we made curfew. Along the way the boys had a restroom stop on the side of the highway and we had a little Backstreet Boys karaoke in the back of the cab.

The next morning, Bryan went into Guatemala City on his service trip while Phil, Kristen, and I made our way back to Antigua. With our infamous backpacks, we cabbed it back into town and got lunch at a wonderful little authentic place. We stuffed our faces with nachos, guacamole, chile rellenos and a special chicken soup. After a full meal, we walked off our food and did some serious shopping. Between the clothes and the gift stores, Antigua was just one giant market. As one of the safer cities in Guatemala, we had no problem getting around or translating with any of the locals. Even our broken high school Spanish got us by. Eventually we decided to find our hostel and check in and meet up with Bryan.

With only one minor complication in our reservation the hostel was quite nice…simple, but nice. Our four single-bed bedroom with private bathroom happened to by a two single bed and one double bed bedroom with a private bathroom. Kristen and I ended up sharing a bed while the boys got to each have their own single. Typical. It was really more amusing than anything. It seems that Kristen and I are getting closer and closer. Last semester we shared a room, now we share a cubby, and last night we shared a bed. What next?

Anyway, the boys got their haircut while Kristen and I did more of what we do best—shopping. And after we exhausted ourselves out, we all met back at the Monoloco with our friend Zach (the cutest 28 year old bartender ever). Kris and I were offered jobs for the summer bartending, which I feel I may want to take that offer up (just kidding Mom). After a few beers, free shots, margaritas and some food we were in love with Guatemala. Well, we were back for Happy Hour and by 10 our night ended. We grabbed a tuk-tuk in the rain and made it back to our hotel, laughing the whole way.

And then for some God-forsaken reason the boy’s alarms went off at 5 this morning. That’s when it hit us all—we had a tour company picking us up at 6. Well we slept in for another half an hour and then got ourselves together to meet up with the guide. A shuttle picked us up at 6 sharp and inside were, you guessed it, a whole bunch of SASers. Together we hiked an active volcano today.

After an hour and fifteen minute hike to the top, where we literally feet away from blistering lava and magma, we were exhausted. The 45 minutes hike back down seemed like a real breath of fresh air. It was exhilarating, nonetheless. Some people were roasting marshmallows at the top in the lava, but the sticks would burst into flames almost instantaneously.

Once our hike was over and we were back in Antigua it was time for a quick lunch, errands, and a final cab ride back to the ship.

It’s bizarre to think that it’s the beginning of the end. With less than a week left of my world tour, I’ve come to realize that today was the ending of a chapter in this voyage. Today I experienced the last time I’ll walk up the gangway and swipe my ID on the MV Explorer. The next time I am greeted by the gangway will be when I leave for good…only a few days from now.

In The Blink of an Eye

I just don’t understand. Someone has definitely hit the fast forward button on life and whoever you are, you better cut it out! Time is a figment of my imagination lately.

The alarm goes off every morning, I go to global at 9:20, I have lunch at 11:30, the noon report comes on over the PA, I go to class, I come back to the room, do some homework, wait for the evening announcements at 5:30, have dinner at 5:35, come back to the room, hang out with friends, turn the lights off by 1, and stare at the ceiling until the alarm goes off again.

After we “gained” that day on Easter, I can’t sleep anymore. I internal clock is MESSED up. Lose an hour here, lose an hour there—I don’t even know what day it is half the time. Here we go again, losing another hour, crossing into another time zone, and preparing for finals—it doesn’t seem fair; I’m not ready. My head is still laying on the beach in Hawaii.

And then, with the snap of a finger, April is almost over, Hawaii is figment of the past, and Guatemala lies somewhere in the distant future.

This morning was my last day of Global Studies. We have our final tomorrow and course evaluations have been fluttering throughout the hallways. I blink my eyes and when I open them I’m somewhere new. And while I’m trying to catch my mind up to speed, my body has already moved on to the next place.

Our first day in Hawaii was a relaxing one. A group of us (Kristen, Luisa, Elle, Jen and I) decided to head to Waikiki Beach for the day and soak up the sun. Luisa’s 21st birthday was on Monday, our second and final day in Hawaii, and we had plans to go to the Cheesecake Factory for some good ‘ole American style food for dinner that night. And as we’re walking out of the pier, SURPRISE, her boyfriend is waiting there for her. It was cute. He and his friends made a surprise trip to Hawaii for her birthday. Our massive group headed to the beach and in no time the tan lines became redefined.

The next morning, Kristen and I headed for Pearl Harbor with an SAS tour—which we nearly missed due to our lazy alarm clock. We took a tour of the memorial museum and the Arizona memorial and I’m not gonna lie—I was disappointed. I really thought it would be more than what it was. The building was under renovations so maybe that’s why, but it seemed really…I don’t know…out dated? And I really felt like it was a waste of my time to go through SAS. Oh well.

Kristen and I split from the group early and then went shopping, a favorite past time of mine. We found Wi-Fi for an hour and wrote some e-mails. We had lunch at the cute restaurant called “Cheese Burger”…I’m sure you know what they sold. It was wonderful being back in a country of comfort. The language barriers become over whelming after a while. But at the same time it was such a weird feeling being able to speak English so fluently and then having to deal with American money and prices. At times I felt that I was talking down to people because I kept anticipating a language barrier. Obviously that was not the case—I even met another Long Islander! Hawaii was nice, but it went by too quickly.

Before I know it I’ll be home again, something I’m half looking forward to and half dreading. The transition is going to be a big one and though there are some things I’m absolutely looking forward too, there are definitely things I’m going to miss.

But I really have no idea where the time has gone. I really need to stop blinking…

Déjà Vu--The Second April 12 of 2009

Happy Easter!

It’s just around 6 in the morning, so I’m a little sleepy, but I felt this blog needed to be written, even if it is a short one. Therefore, please don’t mind any grammatical errors—though I now wish I had an excuse for the errors in some of my other entries. Oh well…I digress.

Some of you may ask, “But Jenna, why are you awake so early, especially when you have no classes today?” “Oh,” I would reply, sarcastically. “I’m awake because my family decided to wish me a Happy Easter back on the East Coast. Isn’t that nice of them?”

I’m pretty sure Kristen is lying in bed right now, wishing I never woke her up. I think I’ve developed some African elephant tendencies as I sounded like a herd of them in a stampede coming out of my room. My phone shrilled alive sometime late in the hour of 5:00 and I stumbled to answer it, tripping over cords and plugs in our dark room. Screaming on the phone to hang on a minute I attempted to find my room key and a pair of shoes so I could run out on the 5th deck and not disturb everyone around but. Failure. Instead, I found myself shoeless, out in the bright hallway, sitting in the stairwell (as it was wayyyy to cold and windy outside).

Anyway, today is the second day I’ve celebrated Easter—as a matter of fact it is the second day I am living April 12, 2009. You see, yesterday was April 12, 2009: Part One, if you will. I went to classes, had my meals, studying for an upcoming global test, went to the gym, and showered— everything you would do in a normal day. But then I went to sleep, woke up, and suddenly it was April 12, 2009 AGAIN! We have crossed the International Dateline.

Today marks the official day where I am no longer ahead in time of the East Coast, and subsequently home, but now I am behind in the times. Now instead of calling my family when the day is over I can call them with a new optimism for the day to come. *Sigh* It’s like time travel…on the open sea!

Well, Hawaii is next and all I have to say is: BRING ON THE SUNSHINE AND VITAMIN D! China and Japan were way too cold for my liking—it felt like being back in New York. Brr. I think two days, lying on the beach will certainly enhance my cultural and academic experience. Waikiki Beach is calling my name.

While I’m here…before I go crawl back into my bed to contemplate more theories of evolution for global studies (not) I’d like to send a message out to my family. First off, lay off the wine Grandma! You’re starting to slur your words…not a good sign. *Shakes finger* (Seriously…she doesn’t even remember my name!) Everyone else…keep that wine flowing! I’m sure Dad has enough stocked in the house to last you all…a lifetime…or at least until dinner is served. Mom—I’m not in the kitchen with you, so try not to splatter any sauces, burn yourself, or cut open any fingers. I’d like to come home with you intact. Oh and make sure you wish Anthony a Happy Birthday this week! I miss you guys like crazy! Only 3 weeks and…3 days…until I’m home. Family party then? Yes. Mom—start planning that. Just kidding…don’t you dare!

Words of thought: Lettuce, Turnip and Pea. Goodnight guys!

Domo Arigato, Mr. Roboto

*sigh* Here I am again—looking over at the MV Explorer from the port terminal—attempting to figure out the wireless situation and digest yet another country. It really takes a lot out of you, traveling, that is. With just about a month to go there are times I still feel like I’ve never set sail. It almost doesn’t seem real—sitting in Japan, looking out at the Pacific Ocean.

Yesterday we arrived and docked in Kobe, Japan. It was another early morning, starting with a diplomatic briefing that Kristen and I diligently watched from the television in our cabin. Still it wasn’t until sometime in the early afternoon that we were allowed off the ship. Immigrations and Customs took a few hours, especially because we are the size of a small country, floating around the world.

But once we were off the ship, we headed straight into town via the monorail system. Of course, armed with the phrases “hello”, “goodbye”, and “thank-you”, we felt ready to explore and get lost—a new specialty of mine. A group of us—Kristen, Colin, Collin, and Keith—decided to head to Hiroshima for the day and visit the A-bomb museum. It wasn’t my first choice for a day trip, but I figured what the hell—when will I be in Japan again? So off we went on the adventure of a lifetime. From the downtown area of Kobe we took the subway to the JR train station where we just made the next bullet train headed to Hiroshima. The train, which was more like an airplane, was decked out with velvet, reclining seats and had a “train attendant” who was pushing around the drink cart. Oh and did I mention that there are no open bottle laws here? Right, so more sake please! An hour and a half later on a 300 km/hour train we arrived at our destination. By this time of course it’s about 4:30-5:00 and the museum closes at 6:30, so we rushed through the memorial gardens, took a few pictures and headed straight for the museum. It was an expensive trip, but worth the money.

Upon our return we found dinner back in Kobe at an upper scale restaurant and had dinner—the infamous Kobe beef. As Kobe beef is massaged and fed only the best kinds of grain and grass, the prices were a little out of the “college student” range, but we splurged a little bit. For $20, my 3 ounces of meat were quite tasty. However, when it arrived I wasn’t prepared for sushi—my meat was mooing in front of me. In the center of the table was an open grill where we were able to cook our own meat to our liking. So there the five of us are, barbequing our meat and veggies, laughing hysterical and cracking up the owner as well. Keith and the Collins decided to teach our waitress how to make an American tradition—s’mores. So at 11 at night, there we are, grilling marshmallows over the open flames and attempting to teach the camp traditions to our non-English speaking “friends”.

This morning Kristen had plans to go to the theatre with one of the Semester at Sea sponsored groups. It was something about two performances and a backstage tour, but the group was exclusive to Professor Eaton’s drama students and it was kind of on the hush-hush. Kristen got the inside scoop because he’s the director of the play she’s in. Anyway, Kristen and I managed to get the approval to tag along, but at the last minute I decided it was a little too expensive for my blood and not really how I wanted to spend my last day in Kobe. Instead I decided to have a little “Jenna-exploration” time. And that’s exactly what I did.

I slept in this morning until about 10:30, got up and took a hot shower and got ready for the day. Then I jumped on the Port Liner monorail into downtown. Now I know we’re really not supposed to travel alone, but I just put on my New York attitude and pretend I’m just traveling alone in New York City and I’m fine. I throw on my iPod and sunglasses and most people ignore me. However, I’m also not a blonde with blue eyes and Uggs on…I guess that draws attention in and of itself. Sometimes traveling with other people on Semester at Sea is a huge sign that says, “HEY, LOOK AT ME I’M A TOURIST—LOST AND CONFUSED AND VULNERABLE!” But aside from my height, I pretty much blend into the crowd…that is, until I open my mouth.

When I got into downtown I explored one of the malls, looking at all the fabulous clothes and bags I couldn’t afford to buy, nevertheless wear. Japanese people are really tiny—around the waist and in height—so the sizes aren’t really meant for people who, let’s face it, have a figure. Anyway, I made my way to the 9th floor of the mall where I found a movie theatre! Of course I couldn’t resist, even if the movie was in Japanese I figured it would be a nice, relaxing way to spend the afternoon. I caught the 12:50 showing of Marley and Me—which was in English with Japanese subtitles. I’m not a crier, but I was definitely bawling in the theater. Luckily, it was dark so I didn’t draw too much attention to myself, but in the end I found out that emotions are universal and even if you can’t speak with the person next to you, they still understand. The Japanese woman next to me, who was about 85 and with her husband, or at least a man of the same age, turned to me with a smile on her face and tears streaming down her face and offered me a tissue. It was priceless. Little old ladies are adorable, but when they are about ½ your height, dressed in polka dots, wearing way too much perfume and don’t speak a word of English, being able to non-verbally communicate is just totally worth it.

What I still can’t wrap my mind around was the fact that I was probably one of the only people who understood Jennifer Aniston and Owen Wilson in the entire theater. Could you imagine having to read subtitles every time you see a movie? It’s like seeing foreign films over and over again. But I guess…that’s just it. We are foreigners. Huh. Weird. I guess I never think of myself as the foreigner.

Once the movie was over I treated myself to a little lunch at a café. I was going to have sushi at this restaurant with a conveyer belt and everything, but they were closing to prepare to dinner. I had a little sandwich, with god only knows what, and a coffee. On my way out I found a music and DVD store and did some exploring there too. In the end, I ended up just grabbing a coffee at Starbucks and heading back to the ship.

Let me just say that as an American we tend to always find one place that reminds us of home, where we knew we can feel comfortable. Sometimes it’s a McDonalds, but as I’m not really a fan, Starbucks in my place. I always know that an Iced Venti White Mocha will translate. And if you’re lucky, someone in there will speak English and you’ll find someone to chit chat with. We set sail tonight and have one day at sea before arriving in Yokohama, Japan. We had the opportunity to travel on land and then meet up with the ship, but I think the day of relaxation tomorrow is just what I’m going to need.

Another Airplane, Another Side Place—I’m Lucky, I Know…But I Want to Go Home

I love traveling. I love SAS. I wouldn’t trade this experience for the world. But I find myself getting ready for home. :-\

It’s such a mixed emotion—I almost feel guilty for even saying this, but it’s the truth nonetheless. I guess this is the first time I’ve been in a big, urban city as the “minority” and really at the mercy of the people here. English has been so widely spoken in all the countries we’ve traveled to, I really think I’ve been taking it for granted—something I will NEVER do again.

I think that all this nonstop, quick paced lifestyle is starting to really take its toll on me. I’ve got my medical mystery going on…which has turned into just a terrible cold…and it’s not like we ever really get a break. I mean, at college I can come home or visit my friends on the weekends. We get a Spring Break and right now I’d most likely be preparing to see all my friends for Easter Weekend. But we don’t get weekends or breaks this semester. At times I have classes in succession for only two days (nice!) or nine (not so fun). My schedule (if you can even call it that) goes from classes at sea to days at port. And I understand that while at port I’m at my leisure…which is true, to an extent. I can sleep in at port, but why would I ever do that? I’ll sleep when I’m dead—or in May when I’m home. When I’m at port all I want to do is explore, explore, explore. And as I don’t want any killer hangovers while I explore, I attempt to limit my partying nights out on the town. It’s not like back home where I can sleep off any New Haven experiences all day on Saturday.

I feel like I’m living out of a suitcase, or at least living in a hotel. Either I am, literally, in hotels, or I’m onboard. And being onboard is great. The staff is awesome and there really is nothing I can complain about in terms of the ship. But there are a few things that once seemed AMAZING to me, but now are just making me miss home.

For example, meals and food—onboard there is always someone there to clear your plate and fill your water glass or sneak you an iced tea, when the only juice being served is apple. I love these guys, but enough is enough! I’ll throw away my garbage; I can wash my own dishes. Let me in the kitchen—I want to cook! And in terms of food, thank you so much SAS for making these gourmet meals, but Kraft Mac and Cheese sounds great right now, or even a sandwich, or a salad with simple Italian dressing. Mystery meat and “fish” get old quick. And then at port all we play is the “point and pick” game. If the pictures look good I’m gonna eat it because I have no idea what that character means. Oh and ladies and gents I’m really sorry to say, but I still have yet to see Lo Mein, Chicken with Broccoli, Wonton Soup, or fortune cookies while in China—oops.

Cabin stewards—it sounds amazing, but really I’m over it. Hypothetically, someone coming to clean my room everyday sounds great, better than great, but no. I am not the cleanest human being—I’ll admit it, but my chaos makes me happy. I like my little bits of clutter and when I feel like cleaning it I will. Mom—this is not saying that I promise to be clean upon my return, but I’m saying that I will vacuum and I have no problem organizing my piles. Rolando, I love when you come and clean, but this mixing of my papers and knocking on my door at 7:30 am to clean is just not okay. I’ll clean today, you take a break.

Living on a ship, traveling, you really lose all senses of a schedule. So you go to the gym 3 days a week? Yeah, I used to too—but now there’s a fight for an elliptical, or I’m at port, or I’ll be away from the ship. And frankly, after port, I’m just too tired to move my fat ass to the gym. Instead I’ll just forgo that frozen yogurt and Kit-Kat tonight from the 7th deck (well, maybe I’ll just forgo the Kit-Kat…frozen yogurt is fat-free). Food is only served from this time to that time, so if you sleep in you are out of luck, my friend (Thank God you snuck out that orange last night at dinner…shhh! Don’t tell). And seriously, did I mention that you live on a SHIP?! There is no “alone time”. Everyone knows where to find you because you are either in your cabin, in class, or in the cafeteria. And if they can’t find you, you can be paged…trust me.

I miss the freedom I have at home. I could have taken the ferry home for the weekend, or taken a drive to Fairfield or Rhode Island, or jumped on the train to NYC. If I want to get away I can just hop in my car and take a drive or get Starbucks. I’m not sure I even remember how to drive anymore, it’s been so long! As for dropping by a Starbucks, ha, what a joke! You’re more likely to find a KFC in any other part of the world than our favorite little coffee joint. And then of course there’s everything I’m missing back home! I’m sorry, but even with technology, I’m STILL out of the loop. This couple broke up; that couple got back together; she’s got a new boyfriend; so-in-so got his driver’s license—trust me there’s a lot to miss out on! My brother has gotten his acceptance letters from college and is making his final decisions on where to spend the next four years of his life. He’s graduating! For goodness sake my kid sister isn’t really a kid anymore and is going to high school next year! I’ve come to realize time doesn’t stop for anyone.

Now, don’t take any of this as complaining, I’m just stating that with exactly 5 weeks left, it sounds like the perfect amount of time before returning to Long Island—before I come home.

“We Could’ve Been Standing On The Great Wall of China”…But I did, Billy Joel, I DID!

Aside from my various misadventures in China, my trip to Beijing has been great. To recap in a few short words I’ve done the touristiest things possible for the past two days and I loved every minute of it. Kristen and I hiked the Great Wall of China yesterday (while singing “The Great Wall of China” by Billy Joel and “I’ll Make a Man Out of You” from Mulan) after a trip to the Ming Tombs and a Jade factory. I bought the most ridiculous hat with a panda head on it, which I creatively call my “Panda Hat.” We also visited the Olympic Village from the 2008 Olympics. Our adventures took us to a market place where we bartered for shoes and clothes that…uh…most likely fell off the back of a truck, if you catch my drift. Anyway, I now find myself the owner of the cutest pair of J. Lo shoes for less than $40. Quite a steal if I say so myself.

Today we took a trip to Tiananmen Square and the Forbidden City at the heart of Beijing. And after getting lost and not being able to find a cab we took a 40 minute hike down the road until we found some restaurants and a cab driver. We had him take us to the Beijing Zoo where we got to see real pandas. And while I was there I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to by Panda Slippers to match my Panda Hat! Geez…I’m such a tourist. Anyway, we also went to the Summer Palace—which surprisingly was just a palace where the Emperor lived during the summer. Then we had a traditional—ITALIAN—dinner at a little pizza place near our hotel. I guess Chinese food gets boring after a while even for the Chinese.

The Misadventures of Jenna in Asia: The case of the mystery illness, mystery hotel, and mystery restaurant

Let me start this entry with the fact that I am sick. And as you know I don’t often get sick—however, what makes this situation all bright and shiny is that I am a medical mystery. With a mysterious fever that disappears and reappears, a swollen tongue/taste buds, a sore throat, a cough and some minor congestion the medical staff has no idea what I’ve come down with. Be forewarned—I was told I am not contagious nor do I have strep or malaria. *Whew*

Well after some adventures and dress making in Vietnam, we sailed for two days, where I stared at the inside of my cabin hoping to feel better. Of course the one time my body decides to test the immune system out, I find out that everyone onboard will be having their temperature taken and must NOT have a fever in order to entre Hong Kong. Oh joy. Luckily, I pass the test, thanks in part to my good friends: Motrin and Tylenol.

Upon our arrival to Hong Kong I decide, “Well, screw it. If I don’t feel well, maybe some fresh air will be good for me.” So on Sunday, Kristen (who is now feeling better after her stomach bug from Thailand) and I, venture to Hong Kong Island via ferry. We shopped and explored, got lost, took the wrong ferry back to our port, spent plenty of money and soon decided to call it a day. Ironically, Camp Kennybrook came back into my life for the second time on this voyage when I got to have a late coffee date and reunite with a fellow counselor, Leigh Hewson. Apparently, he’s been in an exchange program there since January! [cue the “It’s a Small World” song] So Leigh and I met up at the mall our ship was docked in and caught up on life. The American and the Brit meet in Hong Kong—love it!

But my China experience wouldn’t be any fun if I couldn’t top my crazy travel stories from Vietnam—so I decide to make this epic tale of mine into an epic novel. After what I like to refer to as, “That time in Nam”, I felt traveling would be a breeze. Little did I know, my cocky American attitude would quickly get flushed down the drain.

Right now I’m sitting in the Hilton hotel in Beijing. I will be visiting the Great Wall of China soon. But the story of how I got here is almost enough in itself:

This morning Kristen and I woke up bright and early to head to Beijing. We decided way back in South Africa that we wanted to independently go to the Great Wall—not through SAS or through the Facebook group (where tomorrow many of my friends will be sleeping/freezing on the Great Wall). So we booked flights from Hong Kong to Beijing and returning ones from Beijing to Shanghai, where we will meet the ship. We found a cheap hotel and booked that too—hey, it had free wi-fi. Expedia seemed like a reliable source, so that’s who we went through.

Well, obviously things didn’t go necessarily as planned. We hopped on the ferry this morning over to Hong Kong Island, found the Airport Express train, bought our tickets and were on our way. Just the two of us. Ironically (again!), we booked the same flight as the SAS trip so we arrived at the airport and boarded the plane with a little under 100 other SASers. Well, no worries. Once we landed in Beijing (and were reintroduced to winter weather—yuck), we went through customs (which took FOREVER!) and then made our way to baggage claim. But when we got there it was empty. I’m telling you and international airport baggage claim—empty! I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. Well, slightly concerned, Kristen and I attempt to ask someone when the baggage are coming out, or if they already did and she just keeps reassuring us that this is the correct carousel. A few minutes later, Kristen leaves to see if she can get directions to our hotel from an information booth and I wait, patiently, for our bag. Ten minutes pass. Then twenty, and finally we are fed up. We head to the Lost/Found area where my blue duffel bag is waiting for me, squashed underneath mountains of other bags. I pried it out and then we finally made our way to the taxi line.

In the midst of getting a cab, we were overwhelmed by the paparazzi who were snapping photos of some Chinese team who just arrived in the airport—I’m thinking gymnastics? They were all girls in track suits, with their hair all tightly pulled back and wearing medals around their necks. Anyway, we laughed and then found a taxi. Of course, our taxi driver had NO IDEA where this hotel we booked was. So we drive around while he calls literally everyone in his cell phone to find out where this place is. No good. And since he speaks no English, we can’t even tell him to pull over to a hotel so we can find someone to talk to. Finally after some pointing and nodding and broken, guttural sounds, we pull up to a shack of a hotel where, you guessed it, no one speaks English! Ugh.

Well after pointing at a map for 10 minutes a man, who happens to be staying there, walks over and realizes our distress. He helps translate for a while and we find out that no one knows where the Green Tree Inn is. So now we’re stuck. Shack hotel had no rooms available, so we ask to be taken to a Hilton or a Sheraton, hoping that maybe someone there will speak English, or at least they will have a room available. A few nods and handshakes later, we’re back in the cab and in front of the Hilton Beijing.

We go inside and of course it’s nice and warm and everyone is speaking English and we’re back in our comfort zone. That is, until we ask the prices of the room. Let’s just say that it was slightly higher than our $20 a night, cheap room at the non-existent Green Tree Inn. Kristen and I decide that instead of staying we’re going to shop around for another hotel. The gent at the front desk, kindly understands, gets us a cab, and tells us there is a 3-star hotel around the corner for about the same price as the Green Tree would have been. So we head there.

This new hotel doesn’t seem too bad, but when we go inside there is only one room left and the girl at the front desk says it “stinky.” Clearly, we know the meaning of this word, but we can’t grasp what she is trying to tell us. She understands and decides to show us the room and let us decide for ourselves. We get to the room, tired, 3 hours after our flight landed, just yearning for somewhere to sleep and put our stuff down, but the room smells like a combination of fresh paint and formaldehyde—not good. Kristen and I give each other one look and walk right out of that hotel and march back to the Hilton.

At this point we’ve given up on money and we decide that for the money we know we’ll be staying somewhere clean and the people will speak some English—that’s all we can ask for. Oh language barriers—don’t you love ‘em? We finally settle in, call our parents, laugh a little and make our way back downstairs to hunt for dinner. The receptionist gives us the name of a nice little Chinese place that makes good dim sum and we have her write it down in Mandarin to show to the cab driver. He nods, we get in, and then, of course, he has no idea where it is—and he speaks no English. Excellent. He drops us off on the road where this mystery restaurant is supposed to be and instead we find some little place where no one speaks English—we’re accustomed to it at this point—and play the “point and order” game.

Thankfully, I’m safe and sound now, back in my hotel.

Great Wall later on—hopefully…

Good Morning Vietnam!

Vietnam, Vietnam, Vietnam. *Shakes head*

What expereinces I've had. And to think I've still got one more night. My favortie thus far must be my "17 Hour Adventure" with my new friend Laura.

On our second day in Vietnam we left for an adventure that would change my life. You see, Kristen was sick in the room and Laura and I decided that we wanted to spend some time outside of Ho Chi Minh City and go to the beaches of Vung Tau. Little did we know, this mission would be near impossible.

At 6:30 pm we set off on motorcycle taxi's to the bus depot. Note to all you travelers: do NOT go to the bus depot. Basically we when we arrived we were new attractions at the zoo as many of the locals had never interacted with foreigners. On the 30 minute drive to the depot my driver proceeded to get in an accident. Like legitimately. We rear-ended the motorcycle in front of us and then another guy crashed into our side, missing my leg my mere inches. Oh, so that's why riding motorcycles are dangerous. Opps. Anyway, we arrived at the depot safe and sound, and our drivers helped us out in getting bus tickets.

We finally got our bus tickets and rushed to get onto the bus. We were pointed in this direction than that direction until we finally hopped onto an airconditioned motorcoach. Laura and I sit down and uncomfortably check out our surroundings for the first time. Of course this is when we realize we're on the wrong bus! This bus is going to the beach 7 hours away!! Well, we skadaddle off the current bus and in broken English and various hand gestures attempt to find the bus we're really supposed to be on. We are passed from Vietnamese person to Vietnamese person until we can exchange our tickets and get onto another bus...or well, van. This time we're sitting on a 12 seat utility van, where we are clearly the only foreigners and people are obviously confused by our presence. It was unconfortable, but we stayed. Why we didn't get off and go back to the ship, I still don't know. Long story short, at 7:45 the van/bus takes off and now we're stuck...on our way to God only knows where.

We met one man on the bus who speaks English and we're talking for a while on the bus. He gives us the name of some hotels that are nice and right along the beach. Ironically this guy is getting married on Saturday and going to Hong Kong for his honeymoon--maybe we'll see him there. Anyway, he made polite conversation and we got to ask him about life in Vietnam. Well, in the midst of our conversations and excitement our driver gets pulled over. And let me just say that police are scary, but Communist Police are REALLY frightening. He got a speeding ticket.

Two hours later we pull up to a gas station and are told to get out...this is the final stop. It's 9:45 at night. Upon our arrival we were greeted by two cabs and one homeless man, sitting on a dumpster, vomitting. Well Laura and I ran into the nearest cab and pointed to the only hotel name we recognized and said "Go." In Ho Chi Minh City SAS has a shuttle bring us to and from the port and city and we get dropped off at a 5-star hotel called The Rex Hotel. Well the Rex is apparently also in Vung Tau and we decide that it's our best bet as a hotel, even if it's a little expensive. Of course, when we roll of to this hotel, it's nothing like the Rex we're used to. Think Motel 6...but Asian themed. Oh yeah.

Well, our corner room--number 112--is just delightful. Out one window we have a lovely view of a garbage dump rooftop, and out the other window we see into a massage parlor. In the bathroom there is a hose coming from the ceiling and is directly over a drain...aka a shower. Oh and there is an outlet inside the shower too. There's also a gecko inside, just chillen. The comfortor has a cigarette burn in it...and by the way...they are plaid flannel comforters and sheets. Anyway, Laura and I decide to just hit the hay and attempt to fall asleep. We watch some quality tv--My Super Sweet 16--and then pass out.

The next morning we are woken up at 7 am by the phone ringing. The front desk wanted to confirm our ferry tickets back to the ship for 3 pm. Laura grumbles into the phone and we decide to start waking up. At 8:15 there's a knock on the door--the cleaning service is there to make the beds. So we get kicked out of our rooms and we decide to grab breakfast--since it's included in the bill. Well, breakfast turns out to be either a big loaf of bread or a little loaf of bread. Fed up and tired, since we tossed and turned all night, we decided it was time to head to the beach. We check out and get all ready just to find out--it's a fishing beach. No tanning! Ugh. Well, we wandered around, got coffee--which was literally like mud--and then decided we wanted to go "home" aka back to the ship.

We traded out 3 pm tickets for the 10:30 am ferry and peaced out. Vung Tau wasn't such a great experience. Wikitravel lied. Now I look back and laugh. I can say: "Remember that time in Nam?" It was the best 17 hours in my time in Vietnam.

A Time to Kill

Well, who's been a giant bum lately? Oh right, that would be me. I know...there are plenty of you who have been living vicariously through my blog and I haven't even been updating it. Opps!

So, here I am, updating the blog--just for YOU! First off I need to give a few shout outs:

Happy Birthday to Stacey Nassauer, Caroline Walthall, Debbie Erland, and Briana Lapadula! And Happy Bar Mitzvah to Robby!

Moving on...I know I haven't written anything about Thailand yet, but my experiences there were more "Spring Break" than "Study Abroad." I went on an independent trip with a TON of SAS kids to Phuket--aka the Cancun of Thailand. I'm going to sum up my time there in just a few key phrases. We traveled from Bangkok to Phuket, where we could have visited Pee-Pee Island. Let me just say it was an extremely sexually charged location. Hookers on the street corners, Thai massage parlors that offered...well, "Happy Endings", if you know what I mean...drinks galore and the beach. I mean, who could ask for more? We rode elephants, played with tiger cubs, took tours of the "Bat Cave"--literally, and stopped at James Bond Island. It wasn't the most academically influenced experience, but I'll say I did have a really great time.

But now, with our tour more than half way over I'm in Vietnam with Hong Kong as our next port of call. For people my age Vietnam is nothing more than a history lesson...just another place on the map. We never really covered the Vietnam War in history, so I wasn't sure what to expect from the War Remnants Museum in Ho Chi Ming. But after being here...my eyes have been opened and I don't think I can begin to describe the heartbreaking, emotional torment I've been put through. Now I'm not going to be able to do express my feelings to you at all. But I'll try my hardest...and I might need a little inspiration from John Grisham's A Time to Kill.

"I want to tell you a story. I'm going to ask you all to close your eyes while I tell you the story. I want you to listen to me. I want you to listen to yourselves. Go head. Close your eyes, please. This si a story about a litter girl walking home from the grocery store one sunny afternoon. I want you to picture this little girl. Suddenly a helicopter swoops down and a platoon of soldiers marches in. Men, speaking a foreign language, she doesn't understand, are yelling and screaming and grabbing at her. They drag her into a nearby field along with the rest of her family. Neighbors and friends are running for cover, away from the men and into their houses. She watches her mother and sister get raped; then it's her turn. And when they're done they use her for target practice. Bullets are flying past her ears and arms, tearing flesh all the way to her bones. The houses are going up in flames as grenaged are exploding all around her. Instead running away she bows down to the soldiers, hoping for mercy; praying for a chance of survival. They torture her instead. They use their fists to beat her senseless. Imagine the feeling of the rifle butt against her skull and with a crack she is blinded; the pain throbbing through her entire body. So they pick her up and liner her up. A soldier comes by and picks off each person in line by shooting them in the chest or head with his .45. Bodies are lying on the ground. Homes are burning in the background. The smell of death is overwhelming. With tears streaming down her face she is the last one alive--and then they shoot her too. Can you see her? Her raped, beaten, broken boyd soaked in their semen, soaked in her blood, left to die. Can you see her? I want you to picture that little girl. Now imagine she's an American."

I'll blog about my more positive experiences tomorrow. I want to let you chew on that for a few hours at least.

…I shiver with anticip—ation

Prior to my trip abroad I was asked, “Jenna, what is the country you are looking forward to the most?” And swiftly my reply was always “India.” The reaction to my answer always varied. Sometimes I would get the open-mouthed stare; other times people would nod nonchalantly. Either way, my answer was always India. I was so nervous after giving this answer that I would build up my experience in India so much that when I finally arrived I would be disappointed. Despite the rumors and the facts I heard about the smells and the dirt and the poverty of India, I never doubted that my experience in India would be nothing short of great. And now, as a seasoned traveler, I can honestly say that my expectations were exceeded and surpassed without hesitation.

Docked in Chennai on the east coast I decided months ago to venture north for four days, so I said goodbye to my floating home and hopped on a bus. Nervous and tired we headed for Delhi—the current capital of India. Old Delhi and New Delhi are combined to form Delhi, the first visit on our tour. We stopped at palaces, gardens, jewelers, an astrological conservatory and finally we pulled up to our hotel. Half delirious and hungry we trudged into the hotel with backpacks galore. Suddenly our entire groups was awake and in awe. The LaLit Hotel was not the ordinary Holiday Inn. The marble floors and fifty foot ceilings should have been a sign that we were not in Kansas anymore. Inside the hotel there was a club/bar, a small pond of water-lilies, an entire wine…closet (for lack of a better word)…on display, and the restaurant with an international buffet [don’t ask…I’ll explain it later]. And well of course there was the gym and the pool. Oh, and did I mention the Versace store inside? The rooms also boasted two queen sized beds for my roommate Melanie and I, a Jacuzzi and shower, a fully stocked mini bar and a HUGE flat screen TV. After settling in everyone met back downstairs for the most marvelous dinner: a buffet with pizza, pasta primavera, fresh made sushi, Indian curry, salads, fresh cheeses, and enough roasted and grilled veggies to last a lifetime. Of course that means dessert was nothing less than amazing too. Chocolate fondue, ice cream, crème Brule, fresh fruit (pineapple, kiwi, mango, oranges, strawberries), brownies, chocolate layer cake with raspberry jam—are you getting the picture? Basically we were spoiled on our first day which made it hard to leave the next morning. But still we piled onto the bus by 7 am to head the next city.

Our next stop was the pink city of India: Jaipur. After a quick driving tour of Old Delhi and another 4 hours in the car we made it to Jaipur where we stopped in the next hotel—nothing bad, but not The LaLit—had lunch and were off more tours. Here we visited a textile factory, another jewelry store, and a marketplace. We spent the evening bartering for scarves and other knickknacks until we returned to our hotel for dinner and in just enough time to pass out. The next morning we were up and out again, but this time for an elephant ride to the Amber Fort! Yes…I said elephant. I know—it was just as amazing as it sounds. After the 30 minute ride to the top we took a tour of the fort and took some pictures. We drove some more, had a boxed lunch on the bus, and then made our way to Agra—home of the Taj Mahal. We stopped at another palace, where we, the mature college kids, took pictures climbing all over the monuments and buildings, goofing off.

The next morning, at 5 am we all were woken up and we left the hotel by 6:30. By 7 am, sunrise, we were at the Taj. Let me just say, no picture will ever do the Taj justice. Over the past few days our bus really bonded—as a matter of fact we labeled ourselves as “Jai Ho”—after the final song from Slumdog Millionaire. Taj (ironically our tour guide’s name) labeled all the girls as “Lakita” and all the boys as “Jamal”. [I love my movie references] Well, the reason I tell you all this is because we decided at the Taj Mahal to be a bit…unique. I choreographed a dance and we performed it in front of the Taj and made a minor music video. It was hysterical. People were staring in awe and shock, but it was so worth it. I mean, I DANCED in front of the Taj Mahal!! How many people can say that?

This was by far the best Semester at Sea sponsored trip I’ve been on thus far. Part of that reason is because of the itinerary and experience, but most of that reason is because of the people I was with.

Today we had a Service Trip at the Sri Sayee Vivekananda School. According to a news packet we received it serves the educational need of the economically disadvantages population of the area of Chennai. Basically, it is a free school for 694 students in the slums of India. And today we got to be guests to the entire school. They performed various cultural dances and asked us questioned, informally, about living in America and our culture and our trip. For majority of my day I spent being the Monkey in a rendition of Monkey in the Middle with a gaggle of 9th grade girls.

The older I find myself becoming more of a student. The younger generations are the teachers. These girls and all the other kids I met today know how to live a full life without any regrets, and still they are very conscious of their surroundings and their environment. After all that anticipating about what India would be like and what experiences I would have—it proved to be better than I could imagine.

We are the Champions…well, almost

WE CAME IN SECOND! GO RED SEA!!!

Ok, well first I guess I should explain what the Sea Olympics are—other than another great excuse for no classes. The Sea Olympics are a ship-wide competition, broken down by hallways, where each hall gets to compete against each other to prove their strength above all other seas. Oh, and it determines who gets to go through customs first when we come back home.

Similar to Hall Wars at Quinnipiac, or Color War at camp, today was chock full of crazy games and screaming and chanting. Our sea, the Red Sea, had to dress up in all…you guessed it, RED—and likewise all the other seas had their own color.

Officially the events started last night with the cheer, mascot, and banner competition. But today the real events took place. I’m talking mashed-potato sculpting, flip-cup (with water), Twister, Pictionary, a spelling-bee, a scavenger hunt—you name it, we did it. There was even a synchronized swimming event—outside the swimming pool. Kristen and I participated in the Human Knot (fastest time wins) and the Tug-of-War (we came in second!).

Tonight at the closing ceremonies awards were given, tallies were taken and the winners were announced. Congratulations on your victory Adriatic Sea!

R-R-R-E-D (R-R-R-E-D)

S-S-S-E-A (S-S-S-E-A)

R-E-D (R-E-D)

S-E-A (S-E-A)

Gooooo Red Sea!

P.S.—CK, I miss you guys! I almost wanted Silent Meals…but then again, not really.

SAS Fact #75: I swam in the Indian Ocean

Sometimes I need to give myself a little reality check about this amazing trip I’m on. Yesterday’s slap of reality came while I was swimming in Flic en Flac beach—in the Indian Ocean. I mean really…I was on a small island off the coast of Madagascar, playing in the water when BAM! It hit me. “Hello, earth to Jenna…this is not the same old ocean you swim it at Smith’s Point” (though…I do miss Smith’s Point). It really is remarkable.

Upon arrival to Mauritius (it rhymes with Delicious and Fergalicious—depending on your word preference) we had a diplomatic briefing on the country. As we have in other countries, a US representative comes onboard and gives us a quick presentation about the country we are about to visit. We literally get the country’s update in an hour—the people, the currency, the crime, emergency contacts, the whole schlemiel.

Dressed and ready we headed out on the next adventure—a hike up Le Pouce Mountain and a swim at Flic en Flac beach. The entire one day stop over was spent on focusing on the natural features of the island. By 9:30 we were off the ship and on the tour bus, driving through the fields of sugar cane toward Le Pouce Mountain. Once we got there we lathered on another layer of sunscreen and bug spray and by 10:00 we began the trek up the mountain. Apparently the night before our arrival, Mauritius had a decent amount of rain and therefore the parts of the trails that were covered by trees were mud rivers and we were slipping and sliding around the trail. Unlike Table Mountain in South Africa, this hike was not on giant boulders in the fog. Instead we were in humid, lush, rainforest full of flora and fauna—though we didn’t see any monkeys like we anticipated. We reached the summit of the mountain by noon. And we were back down by 1:20—only an hour after we planned to come back down.

The two groups of ten were down the mountain, sitting on the edge of the dirt road waiting for the cars by 1:30. But, there was another slight delay—Shopping Girl. Normally I’m not a judgmental person—but this girl was just such a huge delay to the afternoon, not to mention she was a huge “Debbie Downer” on the whole day. We all sat on the bottom of the hill, hungry and sweaty, anticipating a yummy lunch and the rest of the afternoon at the beach, finally around 2:10 she moseyed out of the sugar cane forest as the foot of the mountain.

Now, when you are preparing to hike a mountain and go to the beach for the day I’m assuming you would pack as little as possible into a durable backpack and be dressed in some sort of a lightweight durable loose cotton outfit and sneakers—think work-out attire. Obviously this girl, who we’ve dubbed at “Shopping Girl” or SG for short, did not get that memo. SG earned her name before Spain, but that’s a different story for a different blog. She shows up in demin capris, an Ed Hardy tank top, and a valor Juicy Couture pocketbook. Needless to say she was not prepared for this adventure in the slightest. Of course, I’m not telling you all of this to make me seem like some sort of nature savvy, fashion-hater because to be completely honest bugs give me the heebie-jeebies, mud and dirt makes me want to cry, and my Gucci shoes are the best pair of heals I own. I am telling you all of this to explain the reason for our delay to the beach and lunch. Apparently the story goes that she fell down in the mud and started to cry. She needed to catch her breath, but she still wanted to make it to the summit. So she makes it to the summit and heads back down, but falls again, scraping her knee—no blood involved—had another good cry and then came down to greet the rest of us.

On the car ride to lunch—we drove through the slums of Mauritius. And like any island, for as beautiful as it is there is always a high level of poverty. The short drive was filled with tension due to our hunger and our aggression toward SG. I’ve learned that hungry college kids who are late for a day in the sun on the beach are not the nicest people to talk to. Well SG tried to make the situation less tense by making conversation with me of all people! And for all of you who are reading this—you know that every word that came out of my mouth in the following conversation was sweet and polite, but dripping with sarcasm and the thoughts going through my head were just priceless. Here’s the way the conversation went:

SG: “Ohmigosh, that was suuuuch a horrif-ic hyyyke. Whatdijew think?”

Me: “I enjoyed it.”

SG: “Ohh, whellll that’s cool. Sooh, wherre are you from anywayz?”

[pause as I remind myself to be civil]

Me: “Umm…New York.”

SG: *gasp* “No way. Where from?”

Me: “Long Island.”

SG: *bigger gasp* “Ohmigod, no way. Where from?”

Me: “Suffolk County.”

SG: “Ohhhhhhhh.”

[pause]

Me: “Are you from Long Island too?”

SG: “Ye-ahh, but not Suffolk County. I’m from the other county—from Nassau.”

Me: “Yup. That would be the only county. What town are you from?”

SG: “Do you know Old Westbury?

[I nod in recognition]

SG: “Well actually I’m from Roslyn. Have you ever heard of it?”

Me: “Mmm-hmm.”

The conversation followed to discuss where she and I both go to college and then, thank god, we pulled up to the restaurant.

For lunch we ate at a colonial home that was converted into a restaurant. It was beautiful—we ate out on what would be the back porch of the house and overlooked the gardens. Three children were playing among the flowers as we ate chicken curry and rice. While other tourists took pictures in the gardens on their visit, we ate and laughed about our experiences onboard and back home. It’s funny because I know that I’ll always remember sitting out on that porch discussing movies with all my classmates, but that fact that I can say I did it in Mauritius is just beyond comprehension.

At 4:15 we arrived at Flic en Flac Beach for a swim and some much delayed sun. The sand was soft and the water was so warm that when you got out the 85 degree air felt cold. We were only able to stay for 45 minutes before another hour drive back to the ship. Once we arrived back onboard there was a barbeque awaiting us. And at 9:00, when everyone was back onboard and we set sail, the entire student body met in the Union for the Opening Ceremony of the Sea Olympics.

I plan on posting late tonight about the results of the Sea Olympics and exactly what it is and what went on, but for now I’ll just say it was another excuse for no classes—which I am completely fine with.

Reality Check

*Note: due to my lack of internet I’m posting this MUCH later than I was supposed to. Sorry for the delay friends :-(

Cape Town, South Africa is a beautiful city. It’s built up and industrial, but not in the New York City sense. It has more of the Baltimore/Albany feel. The V & A Waterfront is the host to hundreds of tourists daily and with stores like Gucci and sushi bars in the center of the malls, how can we resist? And now that the 2010 World Cup is being hosted here as well the construction industry is booming. New hotels and stores are being built in order to accommodate the thousands of people who will flock these streets. As a matter of fact, “The One and Only”, the hotel, is opening here. There are two hotels in this chain: Paradise Island, Bahamas and Dubai, India. Down the road from this famed 7-star hotel is an Aston Martin dealership and walking distance to the waterfront.

But take a step outside of your comfort zone and enter the ‘real’ South Africa. Get out of the rich, touristy areas and drive into a township where poverty and dirt overwhelm you. Welcome to Khayelitsha—home to 1 million South Africans.

Now please don’t misunderstand me—there is nothing beautiful about this place. There are dirt roads filled with trash and debris and animals roam the streets with no home or direction. It doesn’t make you feel warm butterflies in your stomach. Instead the hair on the back of your neck stands up when you see the people staring at you…the foreigner...the alien. Of course a lot of this feeling is here because Semester at Sea decided to scare the holy-be-Jesus out of us before me made port in Cape Town. When we pulled up to our destination part of my wanted to run back into the car and demand they drive me back to my safe, comfortable little ship.

But here I am…sitting in Vicky’s Bed and Breakfast in the middle of a township completely okay with my surroundings. Kristen and I were picked up at the clock tower at the foot of the Alfred Mall by Pikstel and Siya, his 3 year old daughter. He drove us about 30 minutes out of Cape Town into Khayelitsha, to the B & B he and his wife have owned for the past 10 years. After playing in the car with our new friend we took a tour from one of the local kids, Alex (17), gave us a tour of the town. We saw the kindergarten and got to play with the kids before they went home for a nap. Afterwards we were taken into the pub across the street from the B & B to meet some more locals and shoot some pool.

There, we were engulfed with smiling faces and welcoming handshakes. People wanted to know all about our lives and where we were from. As the only two foreigners and the only two Americans we were bombarded with questions. For a few hours we discussed music, politics, and religion. I was taken aback by the positive views the South Africans had toward our government and how well informed they were on various controversial topics we faced. As it was 1:30 in the afternoon and all the locals were having a pint, or two, and shooting pool and chewing the fat with us, it was obvious that work was sparse for these people. Many of them told us they had part time jobs and they didn’t want us the leave thinking that South Africans didn’t work and just sat around drinking beer all day long.

Roxy, Vicky’s eldest daughter, and Alex took us to see the local meat market where dinner was going to be picked up. We got two chickens. But more exotic foods like lamb liver and intestine, ox heads, and some other bizarre looking meat were all on display within the township. When we came back from the market all of Vicky’s other children and nieces were home and they quickly developed a bond with us. We all sat in our room singing Rihanna, Jordan Sparks, T-Pain and Chris Brown songs and learning some Afrikaans (one of the languages spoken here). Malande (11), Thandile (8), and their cousin Masandi (12) sang us the South African National Anthem and a song entirely in clicks, another local tongue. In exchange Kristen and I sang a horrid rendition of The Star Spangle Banner.

Later the girls, along with a few friends, took us to the Fruit and Veg stand where we bought grapes for .10 American! Dinner was served shortly after we returned and we had chicken with amazing vegetables. It was so great having a home-cooked meal again. Ship food gets a bit…shall I say, questionable? After the girls and Kristen and I ate we all helped clear the table and washed dishes. Well, Malande washed, Kristen dried, and Masandi and I put everything away. I hate to say this…and I know when my mother reads this she’s going to die…but cleaning the kitchen felt great. It was nice to be in a family setting where everyone has responsibilities instead of having the ship staff wait over your shoulder waiting to clear your plate—trust me, it’s nice but you need a break.

Once the kitchen was cleared Masandi and Malande whipped out their homework. We discussed the differences between schools in South Africa and in America. Did you know they all wear uniforms—public and private? And did you know that the school year starts in January and ends in December? The kids go to school all year with only a few breaks during Easter, June, September, and Christmas. All you Americans be grateful!!! The girls explained they study 11 subjects a day at school—3 of which are language: English, Afrikaans, and a language of entirely clicks.

Thandile read Shakespeare to us…at 8 years old! Malande read us her homework assignment. She had to write a short story, 100-200 words, about a fictional crime tale. Malande wove us a tale where a man breaks into her house and puts a gun to her head, rapes her sister where she contracts HIV. The story winds in and out of family members until the police arrive, arrest the man, and bring her sister to the hospital. Two weeks later her sister dies of complications due to AIDS. And the harsh reality is that at 11 years old, Malande’s creative side wove together this story of horrific situations.

Every morning the girls wake up at 5:30 am and leave the house by 6:30 to get to school. And they didn’t go to bed until 10:30 pm. Malande was washing the kitchen floor before bed and Masandi was putting Siya to bed. At 11 and 12 years old these girls amazed me. And to top it off they never complained about their lives, they never had one negative comment, they only smiled.

This stay has been nothing short of an eye-opening, life changing experience.

Roses are red, Violets are blue…

Let me first say that if you don’t know me and this blog is the only time we’ve spoken, there are only two things you need to know about me: my sarcasm (see the next sentence) and the fact that I can relate EVERYTHING to a movie/a scene from a movie. Now when I say spoken of course I mean me talking via this blog and you never getting in a word edge-wise—trust me you’re not missing out, I’m the same way in person. However, if you’d like to contact me or send an anonymous comment feel free. But if you are one of the few people out there who want to be “pen-pals” feel free to e-mail me at my Semester at Sea account: jmuliano@semesteratsea.net .

Moving on…

There are only so many experiences one person can have in a day; today was the epitome of a perfect day. I’m not quite sure I will ever experience anything better.

Now when you think of Namibia I’m assuming you’re thought process is the following—okay, it’s somewhere in Africa. And now that you’re thinking of Africa (which by the way is correct), and pending you are at least 16, one of the top ten things you associate Africa with is Disney’s The Lion King. Oh, just I do that? Damn. Well, that was my thought process (you’d think I did research on the countries I was traveling to…).

So at 7:45 we open the curtains and I’m really hoping to see the African savannah and have elephants and gazelles prancing across the scene before me. The jukebox in my head starts singing, “Nahh, swa-embaa, babba hee swenn nah nohhh…” okay, so that was a horrid attempt at the opening song, The Circle of Life—my apologies to Elton John and Tim Rice.

Sadly, I’m here to report that when I opened my windows this was not the scene before me—instead it was much better. Out of bed and into the Union we were greeted by diplomats from the US Embassy. Of course, I was still half asleep and hardly paying attention, but what happened next was the start to what would be an amazing day. The entire shipboard community made our way to the 7th deck, and looked out to the pier where 22 girls were singing for us. The choir of young girls came all the way from their school to sing and dance for us and welcome our community to Namibia. After listening to a few songs and dances I rushed to get dressed and see the new country that welcomed me with open arms.

Surprisingly when we headed down the gangway the choir was still outside hanging with the community of college kids. I couldn’t help but smile at the welcoming committee before me and they were just as excited to meet us. The little drummer and a few girls were standing with a few students when one SAS girl decided to sing a thank you for our performers. She taught them a cute little beat that starts with a bang, bang, clap, bang, bang clap. For those of you who can’t figure it out she started singing Queen’s “We Will Rock You.” Immediately I felt the spirit of performing jump into me and joined in our rendition of the song. The smiles and applause made it so worthwhile. A girl, unknowing of me, trusted my smile and gave me a big bear hug around the waist. We stopped and chatted, laughing about Beyonce songs. Another one of the girls stopped me, grabbed my arm and said, “I love your color” referring to my skin. Quickly they were swept up by their teachers and took a tour of the boat, our home for the next few months, and we set off to tour their current homes.

The town is a basic, just apartment buildings and stores and restaurants. It’s not run-down, per say, nor is it dirty is a negative way. Basic is the only word I can think of to explain it. It’s simple and a non-complicated, no flourish kind of way. The port we’re docked at is very industrial full of trucks and storage centers. Namibia faces serious issues like the AIDS epidemic and Malaria, but still, it’s a paradise for the adventurous traveler.

Kristen and I explored Walvis Bay (pronounced Vaull-fish Bay…think German). We found a bank and exchanged some money for the South African Rand, which is interchangeable here and in South Africa, and then made our way to lunch. We stopped at an adorable café for toastees (grilled cheeses) and Coke-Colas. Once we left there we went to the local supermarket to pick up some supplies for the next stretch at sea.

Again I found myself greeted by more of the locals. A woman and her mother asked me if I was South African, visiting for holiday, but I was quick to laugh and tell them I was American, here for school. They were so interested we ended up in a quick conversation about my education and my travels thus far. They wanted to know about my family and my studies and what I planned on doing with my degree. Their interest was so honest I couldn’t help but loving every moment of their company.

We made our way back to the dock to set off on a Desert 4x4 Adventure at 1:45. After dropping off our grocery bags, we piled into one of the many Jeeps or Land Rovers waiting for us. Our driver was Toss, a local from Walvis Bay. He was an older gentleman who gave us a tour of the land and was driving our vehicle in the chain. The leader of the entire group was Tommy, a comical crazy tour guide who relished in the naïveté of the Americans. We drove along Long Beach in Walvis Bay, taking in the local sights, and finally arrived in the Namib Desert where our adventure began. We stopped to take pictures and let the air out of the tires of the 4x4s. Then we took off.

Up and down the dunes we drove through the waves of sand past sand boarders (think snowboarding…but on sand) and sand surfers (think windsurfing). We made pits stops along the way to see a few of the local animals like the Side-Winder (a snake), a small gecko, a scorpion, a chameleon (which Kristen got to hold reluctantly after she was volunteered by Tommy—see her blog), and various landscapes. In the middle of the tour we stopped and had lunch in the desert—oysters on the half shell with tobasco sauce, chips, granola bars, and soda. And toward the end of the trip we let the boys play with their toys (the guides and their trucks) and take us all over the dunes, flying in the cars like we were on roller coasters or something.

The desert is more than just sand. It’s a miraculous place. And the words will never do it justice, nor will any of my pictures/videos. I mean, I was standing on dunes today, making tracks in the sand with my bare feet (I didn’t wear shoes the entire trip!), and just to think tomorrow there will be no evidence I was ever there. Every day the sand changes, blowing to and away from the coast. No one will see the same dunes I saw today. And the colors vary on the dunes from light tans to deep blacks and purples and reds and all these shades in between.

To finish our Valentine’s Day, Kristen and I had a little romantic dinner for two at a local steakhouse. When we walked in we were seated at a table for two with candle light and everything. The waitress gave us each a single red rose and then we ordered dinner. We shared appetizers of calamari and mushrooms and split dinners of chicken cordon bleu and pizza. Then we had a fabulous chocolate brownie. It was the perfect ending to a wonderful and memorable Valentine’s Day. And I couldn’t have a better date than my best friend.

But the night wasn’t over!

You’d think that returning to the ship, taking showers, and heading to bed would be the ultimate ending, but there is one thing that could make it better. Aladdin is on TV!! I mean really?! One of my favorite cartoons is on TV, I’m with my best friend, I ran around the Namib Desert today, and I met wonderful locals today. I bet you’re Valentine’s Day wasn’t nearly as great as mine.

I think today was the first day Semester at Sea had really made a difference in where my future leads me. Spain was beautiful, Morocco was an experience, but Namibia is something unique and wonderful. And to think I still have 2 more days here. If today was any preview, I’m not sure I will be able to handle what else Namibia has to offer. Yet I know I will definitely be back after this trip…maybe with the Peace Corps?

On The Road Again

Well, here we are…back at sea—surrounded by ocean, ocean and more ocean. The seas are rough, but nothing to fear. Though now I can understand why sailors used to believe King Triton, or Neptune was angry when the seas were fierce. We are at his mercy. They realization is that the sea controls us out here; we are only a tiny speck compared to the ocean we sail upon. If the sea is angry enough, I have no doubts that it will do damage.

On the day we left Casablanca, the seas were so rough that our beds and furniture were rolling around the room. Kristen and I had to sit on the floor to stabilize ourselves and steer clear of any flying objects in our stateroom. Being on the 4th floor, in the center of the ship we didn’t even get the worst of the rocking. Apparently there were rooms where drawers were turned over, clothes were flying everywhere, and it was nothing less than the aftermath of a hurricane within the rooms.

Kristen attempted to get up at one point during the rocking and ended up falling onto and over my bed and proceeded to show me her gymnastics skills until she hit the door. She could have been an Olympic gold medalist—back flips, flip-flops, tumble saults, ending with a full twist layout at the door. Of course, she surprised even herself with these skills. She never knew she was so flexible. (No worries she just has a sore neck). But Kristen’s injuries were nothing compared to other students and faculty among the MV Explorer. The next morning I saw slings and crutches galore. Apparently some people decided to test the fates—and the fates didn’t respond very nicely. From the stories I’ve heard people have torn this and twisted that, someone ended up getting cut and bleeding. Oh the war stories of Semester at Sea.

Classes have resumed again and it seems completely normal that I’ve just left Morocco and I’m on my way to Namibia. Yet…something tells me otherwise. I’ll be crossing the equator on what we call Neptune Day (aka a great excuse for no classes) in a day or so and then we’ll be arriving in Walvis Bay, Namibia. In the meantime, I’m preparing for tests, writing papers, and attempting to stay on top of my reading. I better get on the ball now, because once we cross the equator it’s basically summer and I’m 99.9% positive the sunshine and warm air are going to force me outside to grab my bathing suit and soak up the sun.

To all my friends in New York and Connecticut: I’m so sorry it’s still snowing by you...maybe you should have come with me.