I sit in my cabin tonight, taking a few moments that I have free to write my next blog. Today is a B day (we have A days and B days on the ship), and all of my meetings are scheduled on this day. So it has been work, work, work since this morning. The Ambassadors Ball (the gala at the end of the voyage) is two weeks away, and I pray that my decorations will make it on in Honolulu. The Ambassadors (Intercultural, Ball, and Goodwill) are busy working on their projects as well as the massive amount of schoolwork and studying they need to accomplish before Hawai’i. Stress levels have certainly gone up, and Kenton (my cabin steward) works late into the night, as students are not vacating their rooms during the day to let him clean. Tonight we are having an Open Mic Night, and I will miss it yet again due to Alcohol Service. I’ve been told that though the number of students drinking on Deck 7 has increased, the mood is substantially subdued.
Thanksgiving Day and our day in Honolulu is three days away. So If I do not get to speak to you on Thursday, have a wonderful Thanksgiving Day with your family and friends. The ship has been moving incredibly slowly. Generally, the ship is moving at 24 knots. At this time we are moving at 14 knots, if feels like we’re just floating in the water. We are incredibly close to Hawai’i but since students are required to have a certain number of days sailing, the ship has shut down an engine and is moving slower. It’s also incredibly expensive to dock in Honolulu. Alas, we will only have one day in Honolulu.
Luckily, Japan was only a few days ago, and it still sits fresh in my mind. It was Brooke C.’s favorite port, and I imagine, it would be my dad’s. It was easily the cleanest, calmest, and quietest country we have been to on this voyage. When Brooke C. and I were returning from Tokyo we ran into Cindy and Amy H. Brooke C. declared that Japan was the cleanest country and pressed Cindy and Amy H. if they had even seen a piece of trash. Cindy said that she had seen one piece of trash on the street. Brooke C. stated that it was not in fact a piece of trash, but rather a person dressed up like trash for Halloween. Brooke really, really liked Japan.
Japan has an incredible essence. There is a sense of calm in the air, and the soil and earth feel old. Yet, it is bustling and modern, with bullet trains, industry, and the latest fashions. But the calmness permeates through this reality as well. The trains are silent, inside and out. There are no horns honking. As I crossed the street in Kobe, it was silent; this huge city was silent. At the “Tokyo Time Square”, with its gigantic TV billboard screens, multiple intersections, and eerie crossing of hundreds of people from all sides it was again: silent. This silence, in both it calmness and its strength wound its way through my time in Japan.
The disembarkation in Kobe was a process. When we left Shanghai, we were told that disembarkation in Kobe was going to be just short of a nightmare. Every single person on the ship had to have their temperatures taken before we could disembark, and this would begin at 8:00am. We sent out notes saying that the LLCs would knock on their residents’ doors at 7:45am and physically give them their temperature. I knocked on my doors and handed them out. If I could not see the resident because they were in the bathroom, I would have them holler at me.
When my sea was called we marched up to the Faculty/Staff Lounge and walked in one door, passed what looked like a video camera, and then out the door. What we found out later was that it was an infrared camera, and that was how they took our temperatures. “How very Japanese,” a student said. After waiting about an hour, the Voice came over the PA system: “Will the LLCs proceed to the terminal.” I headed out to the terminal to pass out passports. Entry into Japan consisted of inspection of the passport, picture taking, and having the fingerprints of the index fingers taken. The process unfortunately lasted until 1pm.
I went through the process and headed to meet Cindy and Brooke for our adventure for the day. Fr. Michele, a friend of Cindy’s was going to take us on a picnic up in the mountains, at a temple. Fr. Michele is a small, elderly man (I think in his 80s) who has had a Catholic ministry in Japan for 40 years. He mainly works with sailors who port in Kobe. We piled into his Toyota Prius, and drove through Kobe up into the mountains. It was the first time we could really see autumn. The mountains were bright red, orange, yellow, and green. It was extraordinary to see the changing leaves, and it reminded me of fall in New England. The sun sets early now, and even though it was only 2pm, the sun was already being its decent.
We soon escaped the city, and settled into the tranquil countryside. Traditional homes with hatched roofs still dotted the hills. We turned onto a side street (roads are very small in Japan, even with their tiny cars), and pulled alongside a Buddhist temple. The grounds were immaculate, and the pagodas were simple wooden structures but impressive in size. We sat in a little alcove, to nosh. Fr. Michele had brought a lovely feast. I cut baguettes, and we spread cheese, jam, and pate on the slices. Fr. Michele also brought a dark bread that had figs and walnuts baked in. Cindy cut up persimmons and oranges. We sipped on Japanese beer. We laughed, and chatted, and thoroughly enjoyed our afternoon. It’s amazing what good food and good company can do. We finished the feast with some cake, jam, and jasmine tea.
After our meal, we walked around the temple area, first heading to the red pagoda. It was framed by trees whose leaves were now red and yellow. It was the definition of picturesque. We then wandered around the trees and bamboo; gazed at the serenity of the nearby pond; and admired in wonder at the shrines built into rocks. The day was calming, peaceful, and quite possibly the best day I’ve had in any port. As we left the temple, I went to the large bell and rang it. It reverberated, and I could feel a new sense of peace wash over me. We piled back into Fr. Michele’s little care (but not before he gave us gifts!) and headed back to the ship. We took a quick detour to visit the Catholic church where Fr. Michele ministers, and it reflected the Japanese culture with its clean lines and minimalist aesthetic.
Brooke and I met up with Nikki and Becca for dinner. My resident Kedren joined us as we headed out for cheap sushi. We passed an Indian restaurant, and had to pull Nikki away. We enjoyed a quick dinner as well as the quiet of the city. Kobe is a vibrant city with many people, but the streets were silent, not a horn blowing, not a loud conversation. The city was silent.
The next day emerged, and it was planned to be a great adventure, though it did not turn out to be I did not have any yen, and was borrowing, trying to find an ATM desperately. What I later learned is that I should have had some yen on my to begin with (if you are doing SAS there is a great service that allows you to have about $25 US in the local currency, it helps to have at least for the first day). Additionally, it might be a good idea to change money. All of which I did not do. So I borrowed money from Nikki. The two of us decided to head up to the public baths of Mt. Rokko. We had to take the subway to a train station (a woman in a beautiful kimono helped us), then to a bus, then to a funicular, then to another bus, that would take us to the cable car, that would finally make it to the top of the mountain. Then of course we would have to pay for the bath. We got as far as the cable car, and ran out of money. We had enough if we left there and headed back to the ship. Nikki was not happy. I finally was able to change money, and so we went and had Indian food to soothe Nikki’s soul. We departed Kobe that night: to much fanfare. A jazz band set up and played standards, and loads of people stood outside the terminal to wave goodbye. It was magic. And as we sailed away, you could still hear the shrill of the trumpet.
Earlier I wrote about the sail day between ports in Japan so I will jump ahead to the day we landed in Yokohama. Brooke and I had decided we were heading to Tokyo. So we alighted as quickly as possible from the ship and headed to the post office for stamps. The train station was located right across, so we purchased our tickets and grabbed the next train for Tokyo. The local train from Yokohama is a 55-minute ride to Tokyo. Like many cities in the US, there was little break from city life from Yokohama (i.e. no countryside). We arrived in Tokyo and grabbed the metro to the old city of Tokyo. Brooke and I grabbed a quick lunch of miso soup, shashimi and sushi. It was heavenly. What I enjoy about sushi in Japan is that they put the wasabi in the sushi, unlike in the US. Brooke liked that in Japan in restaurants they bring a “playpen” for your purse/bag, so that it doesn’t sit on the floor and get dirty. The Japanese are very clean.
We walked around Old Tokyo, Asakusa, first through the many stalls that housed trinkets, magnets, postcards, and the ubiquitous cell phone trinket. I have to also say that like our dollar stores in the US, the Japanese have their 100-yen stores, which is about $1. After a few small purchases, we headed towards the pagodas. We stopped to receive our fortunes. We slipped in a 100-yen coin in a slot, shook a metal canister until a stick popped out. On the stick was a character. You then look for the character on the outside of small drawers. When you find your character, you open the drawer and draw your fortune. If you have a negative fortune, you can tie the fortune on a metal wire and it negates it. Luckily mine was positive. I then washed my hands with some holy water, wafted incense into my face, and rubbed the Buddha’s head, shoulders, arms, and knees.
As we entered the pagoda we saw a mother and her young daughter dressed in gorgeous kimonos. We asked to take a picture and they graciously accepted. Apparently, at some (ages 3 and 9) it is lucky to go to temple, so many young children were dressed up in traditional clothes at temple. We wandered around a bit more, and then decided to go grab some dinner at the Wolfgang Puck express, where I had a panini and French-fries it was wonderful.
We then decided to look at high fashion. We walked around Issey Miyake, Prada, Cartier, Theory, Dior, Burberry, Chanel, etc. In another showing of Japanese politeness when we went to Cartier, they pulled out a $90k ring for us to look at. Incredible. After admiring the luxurious fabrics we went and had some tea and cake at French café (the Japanese have great French cafés and had the best desserts on this voyage so far). It was fun to just sit, relax, and chat. Outside of the incredible chocolate cake and the tea with hot milk (an aside, why is it we are the only country that serves coffee, tea, etc. with cold milk? Every country I have been to on three continents have served my drinks with steamed milk. This is my new issue and I will be fighting for justice on this point!) the great thing about this café was the toilet. When I sat down I realized that it had heated seats. I then saw that there were buttons for music, spray, bidet, blower, and flush. I waited for it to light up. It was another great experience, and again very Japanese. We walked around a bit, enjoy the Top Shop and H&M and then headed to the Tokyo Times Square: Shibuya. If you have seen “Lost in Translation” this is the area with the brontosaurus. Shibuya is this great center of stores and buildings. It is a circular intersection, and people and cars moved orderly, and again, with only the slightest of sound. Brooke and I enjoyed a glass of wine, before we made our way home. We joined the throngs of Japanese workers at 11pm (and an elderly man in traditional dress and a fox stole) on our ride back to Yokohama.
The terminal, which could double as a skate park, was not open, so Brooke and I met up with Cindy and Amy H. and found our way through the parking lot to the opening for us. I went to bed serene and a little tired from the long walks.
Not having a real plan for the next day, I ran into Garrett at breakfast and we decided to hang out in the park reading and writing post cards. Yokohama has a long stretch of park by the port that is again quiet and serene. Fountains populate the park in the shapes of serpents, frogs, and turtles. We sat down and read and wrote, and talked about life, love, and happiness. The wind picked up and shook the leaves from their branches and spun around us. It was a perfect fall day. It was one of those days you remember having one of those lifetime talks. It was sweet and heartbreaking at the same time. Time as always slipped away as we chatted. We hurried to have some tea and cake (Japan has many cake sets that come with a piece of cake and hot beverage). Garrett told me of a giant spider he saw in the park. I asked if it was furry like a tarantula, and he said it was black and sleek. To which I responded, “How very Japanese.” We headed back to the ship to start the process of getting people on the ship again. It was quick and easy.
All right, time to work the desk.
Monday, December 1, 2008
The Quietness of the Ancient, the Modern, and the Eternal
I sit in my cabin tonight, taking a few moments that I have free to write my next blog. Today is a B day (we have A days and B days on the ship), and all of my meetings are scheduled on this day. So it has been work, work, work since this morning. The Ambassadors Ball (the gala at the end of the voyage) is two weeks away, and I pray that my decorations will make it on in Honolulu. The Ambassadors (Intercultural, Ball, and Goodwill) are busy working on their projects as well as the massive amount of schoolwork and studying they need to accomplish before Hawai’i. Stress levels have certainly gone up, and Kenton (my cabin steward) works late into the night, as students are not vacating their rooms during the day to let him clean. Tonight we are having an Open Mic Night, and I will miss it yet again due to Alcohol Service. I’ve been told that though the number of students drinking on Deck 7 has increased, the mood is substantially subdued.
Thanksgiving Day and our day in Honolulu is three days away. So If I do not get to speak to you on Thursday, have a wonderful Thanksgiving Day with your family and friends. The ship has been moving incredibly slowly. Generally, the ship is moving at 24 knots. At this time we are moving at 14 knots, if feels like we’re just floating in the water. We are incredibly close to Hawai’i but since students are required to have a certain number of days sailing, the ship has shut down an engine and is moving slower. It’s also incredibly expensive to dock in Honolulu. Alas, we will only have one day in Honolulu.
Luckily, Japan was only a few days ago, and it still sits fresh in my mind. It was Brooke C.’s favorite port, and I imagine, it would be my dad’s. It was easily the cleanest, calmest, and quietest country we have been to on this voyage. When Brooke C. and I were returning from Tokyo we ran into Cindy and Amy H. Brooke C. declared that Japan was the cleanest country and pressed Cindy and Amy H. if they had even seen a piece of trash. Cindy said that she had seen one piece of trash on the street. Brooke C. stated that it was not in fact a piece of trash, but rather a person dressed up like trash for Halloween. Brooke really, really liked Japan.
Japan has an incredible essence. There is a sense of calm in the air, and the soil and earth feel old. Yet, it is bustling and modern, with bullet trains, industry, and the latest fashions. But the calmness permeates through this reality as well. The trains are silent, inside and out. There are no horns honking. As I crossed the street in Kobe, it was silent; this huge city was silent. At the “Tokyo Time Square”, with its gigantic TV billboard screens, multiple intersections, and eerie crossing of hundreds of people from all sides it was again: silent. This silence, in both it calmness and its strength wound its way through my time in Japan.
The disembarkation in Kobe was a process. When we left Shanghai, we were told that disembarkation in Kobe was going to be just short of a nightmare. Every single person on the ship had to have their temperatures taken before we could disembark, and this would begin at 8:00am. We sent out notes saying that the LLCs would knock on their residents’ doors at 7:45am and physically give them their temperature. I knocked on my doors and handed them out. If I could not see the resident because they were in the bathroom, I would have them holler at me.
When my sea was called we marched up to the Faculty/Staff Lounge and walked in one door, passed what looked like a video camera, and then out the door. What we found out later was that it was an infrared camera, and that was how they took our temperatures. “How very Japanese,” a student said. After waiting about an hour, the Voice came over the PA system: “Will the LLCs proceed to the terminal.” I headed out to the terminal to pass out passports. Entry into Japan consisted of inspection of the passport, picture taking, and having the fingerprints of the index fingers taken. The process unfortunately lasted until 1pm.
I went through the process and headed to meet Cindy and Brooke for our adventure for the day. Fr. Michele, a friend of Cindy’s was going to take us on a picnic up in the mountains, at a temple. Fr. Michele is a small, elderly man (I think in his 80s) who has had a Catholic ministry in Japan for 40 years. He mainly works with sailors who port in Kobe. We piled into his Toyota Prius, and drove through Kobe up into the mountains. It was the first time we could really see autumn. The mountains were bright red, orange, yellow, and green. It was extraordinary to see the changing leaves, and it reminded me of fall in New England. The sun sets early now, and even though it was only 2pm, the sun was already being its decent.
We soon escaped the city, and settled into the tranquil countryside. Traditional homes with hatched roofs still dotted the hills. We turned onto a side street (roads are very small in Japan, even with their tiny cars), and pulled alongside a Buddhist temple. The grounds were immaculate, and the pagodas were simple wooden structures but impressive in size. We sat in a little alcove, to nosh. Fr. Michele had brought a lovely feast. I cut baguettes, and we spread cheese, jam, and pate on the slices. Fr. Michele also brought a dark bread that had figs and walnuts baked in. Cindy cut up persimmons and oranges. We sipped on Japanese beer. We laughed, and chatted, and thoroughly enjoyed our afternoon. It’s amazing what good food and good company can do. We finished the feast with some cake, jam, and jasmine tea.
After our meal, we walked around the temple area, first heading to the red pagoda. It was framed by trees whose leaves were now red and yellow. It was the definition of picturesque. We then wandered around the trees and bamboo; gazed at the serenity of the nearby pond; and admired in wonder at the shrines built into rocks. The day was calming, peaceful, and quite possibly the best day I’ve had in any port. As we left the temple, I went to the large bell and rang it. It reverberated, and I could feel a new sense of peace wash over me. We piled back into Fr. Michele’s little care (but not before he gave us gifts!) and headed back to the ship. We took a quick detour to visit the Catholic church where Fr. Michele ministers, and it reflected the Japanese culture with its clean lines and minimalist aesthetic.
Brooke and I met up with Nikki and Becca for dinner. My resident Kedren joined us as we headed out for cheap sushi. We passed an Indian restaurant, and had to pull Nikki away. We enjoyed a quick dinner as well as the quiet of the city. Kobe is a vibrant city with many people, but the streets were silent, not a horn blowing, not a loud conversation. The city was silent.
The next day emerged, and it was planned to be a great adventure, though it did not turn out to be I did not have any yen, and was borrowing, trying to find an ATM desperately. What I later learned is that I should have had some yen on my to begin with (if you are doing SAS there is a great service that allows you to have about $25 US in the local currency, it helps to have at least for the first day). Additionally, it might be a good idea to change money. All of which I did not do. So I borrowed money from Nikki. The two of us decided to head up to the public baths of Mt. Rokko. We had to take the subway to a train station (a woman in a beautiful kimono helped us), then to a bus, then to a funicular, then to another bus, that would take us to the cable car, that would finally make it to the top of the mountain. Then of course we would have to pay for the bath. We got as far as the cable car, and ran out of money. We had enough if we left there and headed back to the ship. Nikki was not happy. I finally was able to change money, and so we went and had Indian food to soothe Nikki’s soul. We departed Kobe that night: to much fanfare. A jazz band set up and played standards, and loads of people stood outside the terminal to wave goodbye. It was magic. And as we sailed away, you could still hear the shrill of the trumpet.
Earlier I wrote about the sail day between ports in Japan so I will jump ahead to the day we landed in Yokohama. Brooke and I had decided we were heading to Tokyo. So we alighted as quickly as possible from the ship and headed to the post office for stamps. The train station was located right across, so we purchased our tickets and grabbed the next train for Tokyo. The local train from Yokohama is a 55-minute ride to Tokyo. Like many cities in the US, there was little break from city life from Yokohama (i.e. no countryside). We arrived in Tokyo and grabbed the metro to the old city of Tokyo. Brooke and I grabbed a quick lunch of miso soup, shashimi and sushi. It was heavenly. What I enjoy about sushi in Japan is that they put the wasabi in the sushi, unlike in the US. Brooke liked that in Japan in restaurants they bring a “playpen” for your purse/bag, so that it doesn’t sit on the floor and get dirty. The Japanese are very clean.
We walked around Old Tokyo, Asakusa, first through the many stalls that housed trinkets, magnets, postcards, and the ubiquitous cell phone trinket. I have to also say that like our dollar stores in the US, the Japanese have their 100-yen stores, which is about $1. After a few small purchases, we headed towards the pagodas. We stopped to receive our fortunes. We slipped in a 100-yen coin in a slot, shook a metal canister until a stick popped out. On the stick was a character. You then look for the character on the outside of small drawers. When you find your character, you open the drawer and draw your fortune. If you have a negative fortune, you can tie the fortune on a metal wire and it negates it. Luckily mine was positive. I then washed my hands with some holy water, wafted incense into my face, and rubbed the Buddha’s head, shoulders, arms, and knees.
As we entered the pagoda we saw a mother and her young daughter dressed in gorgeous kimonos. We asked to take a picture and they graciously accepted. Apparently, at some (ages 3 and 9) it is lucky to go to temple, so many young children were dressed up in traditional clothes at temple. We wandered around a bit more, and then decided to go grab some dinner at the Wolfgang Puck express, where I had a panini and French-fries it was wonderful.
We then decided to look at high fashion. We walked around Issey Miyake, Prada, Cartier, Theory, Dior, Burberry, Chanel, etc. In another showing of Japanese politeness when we went to Cartier, they pulled out a $90k ring for us to look at. Incredible. After admiring the luxurious fabrics we went and had some tea and cake at French café (the Japanese have great French cafés and had the best desserts on this voyage so far). It was fun to just sit, relax, and chat. Outside of the incredible chocolate cake and the tea with hot milk (an aside, why is it we are the only country that serves coffee, tea, etc. with cold milk? Every country I have been to on three continents have served my drinks with steamed milk. This is my new issue and I will be fighting for justice on this point!) the great thing about this café was the toilet. When I sat down I realized that it had heated seats. I then saw that there were buttons for music, spray, bidet, blower, and flush. I waited for it to light up. It was another great experience, and again very Japanese. We walked around a bit, enjoy the Top Shop and H&M and then headed to the Tokyo Times Square: Shibuya. If you have seen “Lost in Translation” this is the area with the brontosaurus. Shibuya is this great center of stores and buildings. It is a circular intersection, and people and cars moved orderly, and again, with only the slightest of sound. Brooke and I enjoyed a glass of wine, before we made our way home. We joined the throngs of Japanese workers at 11pm (and an elderly man in traditional dress and a fox stole) on our ride back to Yokohama.
The terminal, which could double as a skate park, was not open, so Brooke and I met up with Cindy and Amy H. and found our way through the parking lot to the opening for us. I went to bed serene and a little tired from the long walks.
Not having a real plan for the next day, I ran into Garrett at breakfast and we decided to hang out in the park reading and writing post cards. Yokohama has a long stretch of park by the port that is again quiet and serene. Fountains populate the park in the shapes of serpents, frogs, and turtles. We sat down and read and wrote, and talked about life, love, and happiness. The wind picked up and shook the leaves from their branches and spun around us. It was a perfect fall day. It was one of those days you remember having one of those lifetime talks. It was sweet and heartbreaking at the same time. Time as always slipped away as we chatted. We hurried to have some tea and cake (Japan has many cake sets that come with a piece of cake and hot beverage). Garrett told me of a giant spider he saw in the park. I asked if it was furry like a tarantula, and he said it was black and sleek. To which I responded, “How very Japanese.” We headed back to the ship to start the process of getting people on the ship again. It was quick and easy.
All right, time to work the desk.
Thanksgiving Day and our day in Honolulu is three days away. So If I do not get to speak to you on Thursday, have a wonderful Thanksgiving Day with your family and friends. The ship has been moving incredibly slowly. Generally, the ship is moving at 24 knots. At this time we are moving at 14 knots, if feels like we’re just floating in the water. We are incredibly close to Hawai’i but since students are required to have a certain number of days sailing, the ship has shut down an engine and is moving slower. It’s also incredibly expensive to dock in Honolulu. Alas, we will only have one day in Honolulu.
Luckily, Japan was only a few days ago, and it still sits fresh in my mind. It was Brooke C.’s favorite port, and I imagine, it would be my dad’s. It was easily the cleanest, calmest, and quietest country we have been to on this voyage. When Brooke C. and I were returning from Tokyo we ran into Cindy and Amy H. Brooke C. declared that Japan was the cleanest country and pressed Cindy and Amy H. if they had even seen a piece of trash. Cindy said that she had seen one piece of trash on the street. Brooke C. stated that it was not in fact a piece of trash, but rather a person dressed up like trash for Halloween. Brooke really, really liked Japan.
Japan has an incredible essence. There is a sense of calm in the air, and the soil and earth feel old. Yet, it is bustling and modern, with bullet trains, industry, and the latest fashions. But the calmness permeates through this reality as well. The trains are silent, inside and out. There are no horns honking. As I crossed the street in Kobe, it was silent; this huge city was silent. At the “Tokyo Time Square”, with its gigantic TV billboard screens, multiple intersections, and eerie crossing of hundreds of people from all sides it was again: silent. This silence, in both it calmness and its strength wound its way through my time in Japan.
The disembarkation in Kobe was a process. When we left Shanghai, we were told that disembarkation in Kobe was going to be just short of a nightmare. Every single person on the ship had to have their temperatures taken before we could disembark, and this would begin at 8:00am. We sent out notes saying that the LLCs would knock on their residents’ doors at 7:45am and physically give them their temperature. I knocked on my doors and handed them out. If I could not see the resident because they were in the bathroom, I would have them holler at me.
When my sea was called we marched up to the Faculty/Staff Lounge and walked in one door, passed what looked like a video camera, and then out the door. What we found out later was that it was an infrared camera, and that was how they took our temperatures. “How very Japanese,” a student said. After waiting about an hour, the Voice came over the PA system: “Will the LLCs proceed to the terminal.” I headed out to the terminal to pass out passports. Entry into Japan consisted of inspection of the passport, picture taking, and having the fingerprints of the index fingers taken. The process unfortunately lasted until 1pm.
I went through the process and headed to meet Cindy and Brooke for our adventure for the day. Fr. Michele, a friend of Cindy’s was going to take us on a picnic up in the mountains, at a temple. Fr. Michele is a small, elderly man (I think in his 80s) who has had a Catholic ministry in Japan for 40 years. He mainly works with sailors who port in Kobe. We piled into his Toyota Prius, and drove through Kobe up into the mountains. It was the first time we could really see autumn. The mountains were bright red, orange, yellow, and green. It was extraordinary to see the changing leaves, and it reminded me of fall in New England. The sun sets early now, and even though it was only 2pm, the sun was already being its decent.
We soon escaped the city, and settled into the tranquil countryside. Traditional homes with hatched roofs still dotted the hills. We turned onto a side street (roads are very small in Japan, even with their tiny cars), and pulled alongside a Buddhist temple. The grounds were immaculate, and the pagodas were simple wooden structures but impressive in size. We sat in a little alcove, to nosh. Fr. Michele had brought a lovely feast. I cut baguettes, and we spread cheese, jam, and pate on the slices. Fr. Michele also brought a dark bread that had figs and walnuts baked in. Cindy cut up persimmons and oranges. We sipped on Japanese beer. We laughed, and chatted, and thoroughly enjoyed our afternoon. It’s amazing what good food and good company can do. We finished the feast with some cake, jam, and jasmine tea.
After our meal, we walked around the temple area, first heading to the red pagoda. It was framed by trees whose leaves were now red and yellow. It was the definition of picturesque. We then wandered around the trees and bamboo; gazed at the serenity of the nearby pond; and admired in wonder at the shrines built into rocks. The day was calming, peaceful, and quite possibly the best day I’ve had in any port. As we left the temple, I went to the large bell and rang it. It reverberated, and I could feel a new sense of peace wash over me. We piled back into Fr. Michele’s little care (but not before he gave us gifts!) and headed back to the ship. We took a quick detour to visit the Catholic church where Fr. Michele ministers, and it reflected the Japanese culture with its clean lines and minimalist aesthetic.
Brooke and I met up with Nikki and Becca for dinner. My resident Kedren joined us as we headed out for cheap sushi. We passed an Indian restaurant, and had to pull Nikki away. We enjoyed a quick dinner as well as the quiet of the city. Kobe is a vibrant city with many people, but the streets were silent, not a horn blowing, not a loud conversation. The city was silent.
The next day emerged, and it was planned to be a great adventure, though it did not turn out to be I did not have any yen, and was borrowing, trying to find an ATM desperately. What I later learned is that I should have had some yen on my to begin with (if you are doing SAS there is a great service that allows you to have about $25 US in the local currency, it helps to have at least for the first day). Additionally, it might be a good idea to change money. All of which I did not do. So I borrowed money from Nikki. The two of us decided to head up to the public baths of Mt. Rokko. We had to take the subway to a train station (a woman in a beautiful kimono helped us), then to a bus, then to a funicular, then to another bus, that would take us to the cable car, that would finally make it to the top of the mountain. Then of course we would have to pay for the bath. We got as far as the cable car, and ran out of money. We had enough if we left there and headed back to the ship. Nikki was not happy. I finally was able to change money, and so we went and had Indian food to soothe Nikki’s soul. We departed Kobe that night: to much fanfare. A jazz band set up and played standards, and loads of people stood outside the terminal to wave goodbye. It was magic. And as we sailed away, you could still hear the shrill of the trumpet.
Earlier I wrote about the sail day between ports in Japan so I will jump ahead to the day we landed in Yokohama. Brooke and I had decided we were heading to Tokyo. So we alighted as quickly as possible from the ship and headed to the post office for stamps. The train station was located right across, so we purchased our tickets and grabbed the next train for Tokyo. The local train from Yokohama is a 55-minute ride to Tokyo. Like many cities in the US, there was little break from city life from Yokohama (i.e. no countryside). We arrived in Tokyo and grabbed the metro to the old city of Tokyo. Brooke and I grabbed a quick lunch of miso soup, shashimi and sushi. It was heavenly. What I enjoy about sushi in Japan is that they put the wasabi in the sushi, unlike in the US. Brooke liked that in Japan in restaurants they bring a “playpen” for your purse/bag, so that it doesn’t sit on the floor and get dirty. The Japanese are very clean.
We walked around Old Tokyo, Asakusa, first through the many stalls that housed trinkets, magnets, postcards, and the ubiquitous cell phone trinket. I have to also say that like our dollar stores in the US, the Japanese have their 100-yen stores, which is about $1. After a few small purchases, we headed towards the pagodas. We stopped to receive our fortunes. We slipped in a 100-yen coin in a slot, shook a metal canister until a stick popped out. On the stick was a character. You then look for the character on the outside of small drawers. When you find your character, you open the drawer and draw your fortune. If you have a negative fortune, you can tie the fortune on a metal wire and it negates it. Luckily mine was positive. I then washed my hands with some holy water, wafted incense into my face, and rubbed the Buddha’s head, shoulders, arms, and knees.
As we entered the pagoda we saw a mother and her young daughter dressed in gorgeous kimonos. We asked to take a picture and they graciously accepted. Apparently, at some (ages 3 and 9) it is lucky to go to temple, so many young children were dressed up in traditional clothes at temple. We wandered around a bit more, and then decided to go grab some dinner at the Wolfgang Puck express, where I had a panini and French-fries it was wonderful.
We then decided to look at high fashion. We walked around Issey Miyake, Prada, Cartier, Theory, Dior, Burberry, Chanel, etc. In another showing of Japanese politeness when we went to Cartier, they pulled out a $90k ring for us to look at. Incredible. After admiring the luxurious fabrics we went and had some tea and cake at French café (the Japanese have great French cafés and had the best desserts on this voyage so far). It was fun to just sit, relax, and chat. Outside of the incredible chocolate cake and the tea with hot milk (an aside, why is it we are the only country that serves coffee, tea, etc. with cold milk? Every country I have been to on three continents have served my drinks with steamed milk. This is my new issue and I will be fighting for justice on this point!) the great thing about this café was the toilet. When I sat down I realized that it had heated seats. I then saw that there were buttons for music, spray, bidet, blower, and flush. I waited for it to light up. It was another great experience, and again very Japanese. We walked around a bit, enjoy the Top Shop and H&M and then headed to the Tokyo Times Square: Shibuya. If you have seen “Lost in Translation” this is the area with the brontosaurus. Shibuya is this great center of stores and buildings. It is a circular intersection, and people and cars moved orderly, and again, with only the slightest of sound. Brooke and I enjoyed a glass of wine, before we made our way home. We joined the throngs of Japanese workers at 11pm (and an elderly man in traditional dress and a fox stole) on our ride back to Yokohama.
The terminal, which could double as a skate park, was not open, so Brooke and I met up with Cindy and Amy H. and found our way through the parking lot to the opening for us. I went to bed serene and a little tired from the long walks.
Not having a real plan for the next day, I ran into Garrett at breakfast and we decided to hang out in the park reading and writing post cards. Yokohama has a long stretch of park by the port that is again quiet and serene. Fountains populate the park in the shapes of serpents, frogs, and turtles. We sat down and read and wrote, and talked about life, love, and happiness. The wind picked up and shook the leaves from their branches and spun around us. It was a perfect fall day. It was one of those days you remember having one of those lifetime talks. It was sweet and heartbreaking at the same time. Time as always slipped away as we chatted. We hurried to have some tea and cake (Japan has many cake sets that come with a piece of cake and hot beverage). Garrett told me of a giant spider he saw in the park. I asked if it was furry like a tarantula, and he said it was black and sleek. To which I responded, “How very Japanese.” We headed back to the ship to start the process of getting people on the ship again. It was quick and easy.
All right, time to work the desk.
Monday, November 24, 2008
The Great Wall was, well, pretty great
Gentle People
We crossed the international dateline last night. Today was the second 22nd of November. I really hoped that “Groundhog Day” would be looped on the close circuit TV, but alas it was not. We will be in Hawai’i in five days, so I have been enjoying Lilo and Stitch. Tonight is the Semester at Sea Auction. I’ve enjoyed the silent auction and the raffle and am excited about the live auction. My item, a salsa lesson, will be auctioned off tonight.
Last night we had the Staff/Faculty/Lifelong Learner dinner. We had a fabulous dinner (I had the filet mignon roulade) and then danced the night away. What made it better was that we were joined in the dancing by Anna Maria (Hotel Captain) and Mario (Chief Engineer), and two crew members who danced behind the bar. I woke this morning with blisters on my feet and a stiff neck, evidence of a great night.
It’s been two and a half weeks since I was in China. It’s a little crazy to think that that much time has already passed. It’s even crazier to think that in two weeks, this voyage will end. Someone asked me if I’m ready to get off. I answered, that I would love to take a month off, see people I want to see, be away from some people, and eat the food I want to eat. And then I could come back for another round. I miss my family, friends, and Mexican food, but I will miss our little community, my incredible new friends, and the life spent traveling and at sea. Enough that, let us get to the task at hand: the account of China.
I rolled out of bed at 6:30am and headed to the Faculty/Staff lounge. The cloudy harbor of Hong Kong rose up before us. The tall spires of buildings stood imposingly on the banks. The hills rose behind all the buildings and softened the austerity of the buildings. Our ship entered and docked at the harbor and immigration and customs entered our ship. A few days before, all members of the ship had to have their temperatures taken. There is a deep fear of avian flu in Asia, and Hong Kong would not allow us to enter without the temperatures. Unfortunately, the customs and immigration process in Hong Kong took a very long time. I sat in the Faculty/Staff lounge working on the Ambassadors Ball’s invitation and watched the passports come in and out several times. The officials had done their work, but then wanted to recheck the passports. We had hoped to disembark at 8:30am. It was closer to 11:00am when we finally were able to get off.
Nikki, Brooke (my two constant companions), Cindy, and went off to grab lunch. Becca was going to meet up with us afterwards. The ship docked across from downtown and we needed to take the Star Ferry across the harbor. Nikki had never had dim sum, so we went to a restaurant that served it that situated near the ship. First I have to say I love dim sum. But I didn’t always love dim sum. I had to get over tastes that I was unfamiliar with. After opening my taste bud mind, I grew to love dim sum. But as it was Nikki’s first time, and she has specific eating needs, it was a difficult experience for her. China is a meat country, and most dishes had meat and since we didn’t speak Cantonese, we couldn’t ask about the ingredients of different foods. So, Nikki wasn’t able to fully participate like the rest of us. But we all had a great time eating plates of food we didn’t know how to pronounce or know what was actually in it. My favorite was a gelatinous food with vegetables. Very yummy!
After a light lunch, we met up with Becca headed to the post office and then on to a walking tour. Brooke C. (of the Field Office), as always, was our intrepid leader. The thing about Hong Kong, is that it’s easier to get around in the air, that is the walk ways that go from building to building, than on the sidewalks. What is even better, it’s not as if you know where to go because you’re walking from building to building and through the backs of buildings. After visiting some monuments, we headed to Hong Kong Park. We went up staircases, down staircases, and then decided to go through the high court building. We took the escalator up to the drug information center, and lo and behold, there was the park! It was so peaceful, with numerous fountains, koi in the pond, and gorgeous flowers. I would have loved to pull out a blanket and nap. From the park, we walked to the funicular to take to the Hong Kong Peak. The views for the Peak are incredible! I love nature, but I’m also a city girl. So to see how city and nature combine is a thing of beauty. The mountains, the harbor, the pearl spires, and the sun setting: it was breathtaking! We took dozens of pictures, and even attempted a “jump” picture (we were unsuccessful).
Cindy had to run back to the ship for Dean on Duty duties, but Nikki, Brooke, and Becca decided to head out to a Mexican restaurant. YES! I can’t tell you how much I have missed the food of my patria. Days I would daydream about burritos, tacos, enchiladas, and my mother’s papas con weenies (hopefully my first dinner back in El Paso, thanks Mama!). So, when Brooke R. told us that she had gone to have Mexican food for lunch we jumped at the opportunity to have some Mexican food for dinner. Hong Kong is very safe and incredibly clean, so our walk was easy and fun. Becca was distracted by Chairman Mao watches and bought several as gifts and for herself. We shared chips and salsa (I’m salivating at the thought of them), a bucket of beer, and I had carne asada tacos. I almost cried I was so happy.
We took the moving sidewalk home and walked through malls to head back to the ship. Zara, the Spanish clothier, called my name and Brooke C. and I stopped to peruse the shop and broke off from Nikki and Becca. We caught up to them on our ferry trip back to the ship. Brooke and I decide that we were not done for the evening and grabbed a cab and headed for the night market. Unlike most night markets, this was ultra clean. I could have eaten off the street. No one yelled at me to buy anything, or tried to use guilt. It was certainly more Western than I had experienced. After buying a patch, I was ready to head home and sleep before my big trip to Beijing.
In 1997, Hong Kong was handed over to the Chinese from the British and is a special administrative region. This means that they will continue to run by their own laws, British common law, have their own court system, their own currency, etc. After going to Hong Kong and mainland China, the vibe is very different. Hong Kong is open, vibrant, and liberal. As much as I loved Beijing, I worried about bring up issues, doing something wrong, and there was an oppressive feeling in the air.
The next day, I took the bus to the airport to catch my flight for Beijing. China always reminds me of my father. Most of my life I have heard him talk about his desire to go to China. And knowing how much he loves the Olympics, I was excited to go to the last host city. The Beijing airport was significantly different than the Hong Kong airport. At Hong Kong, it was sleek and modern. In Beijing, the socialist and totalitarian atmosphere seeped into the airport. The inside was austere, with beige walls and little ornamentation. I went through immigration, I kept my eyes low and said little. After I was handed my passport, an immediate feedback survey popped out in front of me. I had to push a button stating my satisfaction level: very good, good, bad, and very bad. My mind raced to the thought that I had to put “very good”. What would they do to her if I gave her a bad review? Would they beat her? Hurt her family? My finger immediately pushed “very good”. This feeling of Big Brother watching was overwhelming.
We met our lovely tour guides, Clara and Betty, and they hurried us to the bus. The yellow and brown haze that clouded the sun was our first evidence of the pollution problem in Beijing. Our bus quickly entered the freeway; and much like L.A. in both pollution and infrastructure, had a web of freeways running through Beijing proper and its suburbs. The daylight quickly faded and the artificial lights of the city sprang to life. Our cameras clicked away as we drove through the city. And, happily, we passed the white and red Bird’s Nest and cool blue Water Cube. For those of you who are not the avid Olympic watchers as the Aguilar clan is, they are the Beijing Olympic stadium and natatorium respectively. After the two weeks I spent right up to my leaving for the trip watching Michael Phelps, Dara Torres, and the Jamaican runners it was incredible to see these buildings up close.
Our Beijing trip was not just a “sightseeing” tour (though it mainly was). We were to stay at Peking University and visit with university students. Our bus rolled into camps, which even though late at night was thick with students walking around. We were later told that students often have classes from seven in the morning to late in the evening, including Saturdays. We arrived in front of a large building, the hotel, where we were to drop off our bags before heading to dinner. The lobby was sleek with a map of the world on the wall. But this was not to be our hotel. We were walked to the back of the building into a more modest space, the international house, where international students would be staying. I was happy that these were our accommodations. Unlike many of the other “large” trips, we were not staying at a 4-star hotel. And I did get the bathtub I had been dreaming about, although the stopper did not work.
Dinner was at a restaurant at the top of a dining hall. What was to become very common, we were given two 2-liter bottles, one of Sprite and one of Coke, as well as a pot of tea. And then came the mountain of food. The guides later told me that they put in special request for food for us: sweet and sour, all muscle no innards, and a good helping of fried foods. So, though it did not happen at this meal, we were given French-fries multiple times. As much as we stuff in our mouths, it never seemed to make a dent in the mountain of food that was piled on our lazy susan. The situation became ridiculous with the enormous pot of soup that was brought at the end of the meal. It felt as if the seams of my jeans would burst.
We were then hustled to a very official room with tables and microphones. Ten Peking University students joined us, and we sat and chatted. They were asked to walk us around the university (in the dark for some reason) and show us around. I braved the cold (my clothes were not warm enough, and I had forgotten my gloves). The sites were not as interesting as my two guides: Vivienne and Vei. Vivienne was studying information management and Vei was studying pediatric medicine. They were sweet and funny women. I pressed them for information, which they happily supplied though it wasn’t always what I had asked. Both cold and tired, I begged off the tour after we had reached the school’s storied gate.
The next morning we were shuffled out to a cloisonné factory. I’m not thrilled about shopping trips, which this obvious was. Cloisonné is an art style of sculpture where a copper vase, plate, or object is formed. Then slivers of copper that have been shaped are attached to the object forming a pattern. Colors are then injected in between the slivers, filling them with different heavy metals. They are then fired in the kiln and then polished with water and stone. What comes out is gorgeous, but what a cost! The guide was a tall imposing man who barked orders at us to follow. The “factory” was run down buildings with poor lighting, inadequate workspace and toilet facilities, and dangerous working conditions. The workers’ chairs were on the verge of collapsing. All of the work was being done without gloves or a mask. There were women, who did not even turn to look at us, injecting heavy metals like iron and cobalt (red and blue, respectively) into the spaces without a mask. Can you imagine the particles that they are inhaling and bringing home with them? And then to see the polishing system, again no masks, and think about the fine particles that are entering their lungs. It was an OSHA nightmare. This, this was a sweatshop. After being paraded through the gift shop and tantalized by pretty and shiny things, we were whisked away to the Ming Tombs.
I wish I could say something thoughtful about the Ming Tombs, but like most of Chinese sites, they were lot of big spaces with nothing in them: except one room with several red coffins. But there was no signage, not even in Chinese. It was lovely if not austere. We ran into several SAS students who were in Beijing independently. As I have already written, this was the day we found out about the death of Kurt Leswing. These students had either just heard the news from us or had received phone calls/texts that morning. Everyone was in shock, and this sight was spent more reflecting on Kurt, the ship, and our trip in midst of the turmoil. Beijing felt our pain, and sent us some snowflakes to calm our spirits.
After yet another impossibly large meal, we headed to the crown jewel of our trip: the Great Wall. During preport, Prof. Patricia O’Neill disabused us of the myth that the Great Wall can bee seen from space. It is not nearly tall enough to be seen. It is quite grand nonetheless. We had been warned of the swarm of people, but the chill of the day had chased away most would-be-tourists. I did not realize the magnitude of the decent that we would be taking. It was literally straight up by stairs. And not the 6-inch stair height we are use to. No, no this was more like a foot high at least. The railing to hold on was about 6 inches up from the ground and was of no help. At the beginning there was a swarm of people, and I worried that they would knock me down and I would plunge to my death. Chinese people (or at least those in Beijing) are a pushy people. They need to get somewhere, and if you’re in the way, they will get past you. Not unlike those from New York City. Cristina (from Venezuela) and I climbed up together. The first 500 steps had no landing; they went straight up. It is no exaggeration to say that I went up and down several thousand steps. After the first pass, I was sweating, breathing hard, and afraid that the afternoon’s lunch would exit they way it had entered. Apparently running and working out everyday was not enough to scale these steps. Expect people would get to one landing rest and have a cigarette. Luckily, the ill feeling never returned.
Aside from the capers of climbing walls for hours, looking out turrets with legs and knees shaking, and hoping for the end to come, the Great Wall was incredible. The Wall undulated with the surrounding mountains and hills. The lackluster brown bricks melted into the natural environment. Because Cristina and I (joined later by Lisa, a chair of the Intercultural Ambassadors group) decided to take the long way around, there was literally no one but us on long stretches of the Wall. It was as majestic as you would imagine, though the neighboring freeway and train tracks did distract. It is weird even now to think that I walked around those steps. Who were the nameless that trekked through the mountains laden with bricks? How many lives were lost in the creation of this vast wall? I sat for a while and wondered about my life, where I was, who had been there before, who was coming after me, where would I be later in my life, etc. All those lovely existential thoughts.
Lisa, Cristina and I were the last to board the bus and we headed off for another meal. We went to another restaurant in a dining hall and were joined by some Peking University students. I begged off the “party” the students had afterwards, and retreated to a semi-bath and bed.
The next day, we headed to Tiananmen Square where most of our day would be spent. We were told that we could meet up with the group at noon for lunch or 2pm if we wanted lunch on our own. After that, we were given free reign on our day. We were told that the museum was closed due to renovation and the government buildings were closed to visitors, we decided to head to “old Beijing”. Like many “old city” centers, the facades had taken on a touristy air, but tucked behind the main roads were side streets and alleys where residents reside. They speak a Beijing language that deviates from Mandarin, though the dialect is beginning to die out. I bought a stick of crab apples that had been dipped into sugar syrup and bit into the crunchy, sticky sweetness. Mariana and I wandered around for a while, and ran into a Tibetan store. I was moved by the music emanating from the store and the beautiful Tibetan women who managed the store. I bought a lovely knit hat with three feet braids and matching mittens; they’re lovely.
We noticed that we were ten minutes from meeting the group for lunch, and I ended up telling Mariana to meet me at the obelisk, as I would run through Tiananmen Square to meet the group. That was also surreal, running through Tiananmen Square, avoiding the numerous Chinese tourists. I looked for our little blue flag of the tour guide, but it was not to be seen. Apparently the local police had not been paid off enough. After another huge lunch (this time with French-fries) we walked to the Forbidden City. We passed the first gate with the large picture of Chairman Mao, looking down at us.
The Forbidden City is vast, filled with temple after temple, with palaces, and long stretches of marble staircases and molding. Large copper vats gilded in gold (most scratched off by vandals) sat next to the large buildings were once filled with water in case of fires. The buildings were brightly colored red, with ornate roofs and awnings. I breathed profoundly to take in the beauty of this area. We were given audio aids and I listened intently to the voice in my box. Mariana and I walked to and fro from building to building. She was so happy and overwhelmed by the experience. I loved spending time with her, Cristina and Daniela. We spent the whole time speaking in Spanish; it was like being home. From there we climbed up to the pagoda at Jingshan Park, where we saw the best views of the Forbidden City. My legs shook and my knees hurt as I clambered up.
After yet another delicious and filing meal (this one with Peking Duck), we saw what had to be the best performance of my life. We went to an acrobatic show, where people jumped through hoops, three rings high; 10 people rode one bicycle; former Olympic gymnasts contorting their bodies; a hamster wheel of death, where a performer, while spinning on the wheel, jumped rope blindfolded. I cannot at all do justice to what was seen. I was frightened most of the time, watching the show through my fingers. What a way to end a night.
By the next day, I was pretty exhausted of having a planned agenda and just tired in general. Our first stop was the Summer Palace. It’s situated on a beautiful lake. The Temple of Incense sits atop a hill and peers down at the former summer home of emperors. After a long walk down the Long Corridor and some hot chocolate, I waited by the Marble Boat (a boat build of marble, commissioned by an extravagant empress, which obviously never floated) for our own trip across the lake. After another gut-filing lunch, we hit our final stop of Temple of Heaven: a gorgeous number of temples. We stood on top of the world, yelled at the Echo Wall, and enjoyed the general splendor of the Temple. Exhausted, we were ushered back onto the bus as we made our way to the airport. We landed in Shanghai, a city none of us had ever seen before, and were hurried back to the ship. Shanghai was imposing, and I spent no time in the city (I had an application to write the following day) so the most time I spent in Shanghai was in line behind other trips waiting to board the trip.
Well it’s half an hour later than I anticipated going to bed. So I will call it a night. I hope to write about Japan before I arrive in Hawai’i.
Much love, and I can’t wait to see and talk to you all
Angelica
We crossed the international dateline last night. Today was the second 22nd of November. I really hoped that “Groundhog Day” would be looped on the close circuit TV, but alas it was not. We will be in Hawai’i in five days, so I have been enjoying Lilo and Stitch. Tonight is the Semester at Sea Auction. I’ve enjoyed the silent auction and the raffle and am excited about the live auction. My item, a salsa lesson, will be auctioned off tonight.
Last night we had the Staff/Faculty/Lifelong Learner dinner. We had a fabulous dinner (I had the filet mignon roulade) and then danced the night away. What made it better was that we were joined in the dancing by Anna Maria (Hotel Captain) and Mario (Chief Engineer), and two crew members who danced behind the bar. I woke this morning with blisters on my feet and a stiff neck, evidence of a great night.
It’s been two and a half weeks since I was in China. It’s a little crazy to think that that much time has already passed. It’s even crazier to think that in two weeks, this voyage will end. Someone asked me if I’m ready to get off. I answered, that I would love to take a month off, see people I want to see, be away from some people, and eat the food I want to eat. And then I could come back for another round. I miss my family, friends, and Mexican food, but I will miss our little community, my incredible new friends, and the life spent traveling and at sea. Enough that, let us get to the task at hand: the account of China.
I rolled out of bed at 6:30am and headed to the Faculty/Staff lounge. The cloudy harbor of Hong Kong rose up before us. The tall spires of buildings stood imposingly on the banks. The hills rose behind all the buildings and softened the austerity of the buildings. Our ship entered and docked at the harbor and immigration and customs entered our ship. A few days before, all members of the ship had to have their temperatures taken. There is a deep fear of avian flu in Asia, and Hong Kong would not allow us to enter without the temperatures. Unfortunately, the customs and immigration process in Hong Kong took a very long time. I sat in the Faculty/Staff lounge working on the Ambassadors Ball’s invitation and watched the passports come in and out several times. The officials had done their work, but then wanted to recheck the passports. We had hoped to disembark at 8:30am. It was closer to 11:00am when we finally were able to get off.
Nikki, Brooke (my two constant companions), Cindy, and went off to grab lunch. Becca was going to meet up with us afterwards. The ship docked across from downtown and we needed to take the Star Ferry across the harbor. Nikki had never had dim sum, so we went to a restaurant that served it that situated near the ship. First I have to say I love dim sum. But I didn’t always love dim sum. I had to get over tastes that I was unfamiliar with. After opening my taste bud mind, I grew to love dim sum. But as it was Nikki’s first time, and she has specific eating needs, it was a difficult experience for her. China is a meat country, and most dishes had meat and since we didn’t speak Cantonese, we couldn’t ask about the ingredients of different foods. So, Nikki wasn’t able to fully participate like the rest of us. But we all had a great time eating plates of food we didn’t know how to pronounce or know what was actually in it. My favorite was a gelatinous food with vegetables. Very yummy!
After a light lunch, we met up with Becca headed to the post office and then on to a walking tour. Brooke C. (of the Field Office), as always, was our intrepid leader. The thing about Hong Kong, is that it’s easier to get around in the air, that is the walk ways that go from building to building, than on the sidewalks. What is even better, it’s not as if you know where to go because you’re walking from building to building and through the backs of buildings. After visiting some monuments, we headed to Hong Kong Park. We went up staircases, down staircases, and then decided to go through the high court building. We took the escalator up to the drug information center, and lo and behold, there was the park! It was so peaceful, with numerous fountains, koi in the pond, and gorgeous flowers. I would have loved to pull out a blanket and nap. From the park, we walked to the funicular to take to the Hong Kong Peak. The views for the Peak are incredible! I love nature, but I’m also a city girl. So to see how city and nature combine is a thing of beauty. The mountains, the harbor, the pearl spires, and the sun setting: it was breathtaking! We took dozens of pictures, and even attempted a “jump” picture (we were unsuccessful).
Cindy had to run back to the ship for Dean on Duty duties, but Nikki, Brooke, and Becca decided to head out to a Mexican restaurant. YES! I can’t tell you how much I have missed the food of my patria. Days I would daydream about burritos, tacos, enchiladas, and my mother’s papas con weenies (hopefully my first dinner back in El Paso, thanks Mama!). So, when Brooke R. told us that she had gone to have Mexican food for lunch we jumped at the opportunity to have some Mexican food for dinner. Hong Kong is very safe and incredibly clean, so our walk was easy and fun. Becca was distracted by Chairman Mao watches and bought several as gifts and for herself. We shared chips and salsa (I’m salivating at the thought of them), a bucket of beer, and I had carne asada tacos. I almost cried I was so happy.
We took the moving sidewalk home and walked through malls to head back to the ship. Zara, the Spanish clothier, called my name and Brooke C. and I stopped to peruse the shop and broke off from Nikki and Becca. We caught up to them on our ferry trip back to the ship. Brooke and I decide that we were not done for the evening and grabbed a cab and headed for the night market. Unlike most night markets, this was ultra clean. I could have eaten off the street. No one yelled at me to buy anything, or tried to use guilt. It was certainly more Western than I had experienced. After buying a patch, I was ready to head home and sleep before my big trip to Beijing.
In 1997, Hong Kong was handed over to the Chinese from the British and is a special administrative region. This means that they will continue to run by their own laws, British common law, have their own court system, their own currency, etc. After going to Hong Kong and mainland China, the vibe is very different. Hong Kong is open, vibrant, and liberal. As much as I loved Beijing, I worried about bring up issues, doing something wrong, and there was an oppressive feeling in the air.
The next day, I took the bus to the airport to catch my flight for Beijing. China always reminds me of my father. Most of my life I have heard him talk about his desire to go to China. And knowing how much he loves the Olympics, I was excited to go to the last host city. The Beijing airport was significantly different than the Hong Kong airport. At Hong Kong, it was sleek and modern. In Beijing, the socialist and totalitarian atmosphere seeped into the airport. The inside was austere, with beige walls and little ornamentation. I went through immigration, I kept my eyes low and said little. After I was handed my passport, an immediate feedback survey popped out in front of me. I had to push a button stating my satisfaction level: very good, good, bad, and very bad. My mind raced to the thought that I had to put “very good”. What would they do to her if I gave her a bad review? Would they beat her? Hurt her family? My finger immediately pushed “very good”. This feeling of Big Brother watching was overwhelming.
We met our lovely tour guides, Clara and Betty, and they hurried us to the bus. The yellow and brown haze that clouded the sun was our first evidence of the pollution problem in Beijing. Our bus quickly entered the freeway; and much like L.A. in both pollution and infrastructure, had a web of freeways running through Beijing proper and its suburbs. The daylight quickly faded and the artificial lights of the city sprang to life. Our cameras clicked away as we drove through the city. And, happily, we passed the white and red Bird’s Nest and cool blue Water Cube. For those of you who are not the avid Olympic watchers as the Aguilar clan is, they are the Beijing Olympic stadium and natatorium respectively. After the two weeks I spent right up to my leaving for the trip watching Michael Phelps, Dara Torres, and the Jamaican runners it was incredible to see these buildings up close.
Our Beijing trip was not just a “sightseeing” tour (though it mainly was). We were to stay at Peking University and visit with university students. Our bus rolled into camps, which even though late at night was thick with students walking around. We were later told that students often have classes from seven in the morning to late in the evening, including Saturdays. We arrived in front of a large building, the hotel, where we were to drop off our bags before heading to dinner. The lobby was sleek with a map of the world on the wall. But this was not to be our hotel. We were walked to the back of the building into a more modest space, the international house, where international students would be staying. I was happy that these were our accommodations. Unlike many of the other “large” trips, we were not staying at a 4-star hotel. And I did get the bathtub I had been dreaming about, although the stopper did not work.
Dinner was at a restaurant at the top of a dining hall. What was to become very common, we were given two 2-liter bottles, one of Sprite and one of Coke, as well as a pot of tea. And then came the mountain of food. The guides later told me that they put in special request for food for us: sweet and sour, all muscle no innards, and a good helping of fried foods. So, though it did not happen at this meal, we were given French-fries multiple times. As much as we stuff in our mouths, it never seemed to make a dent in the mountain of food that was piled on our lazy susan. The situation became ridiculous with the enormous pot of soup that was brought at the end of the meal. It felt as if the seams of my jeans would burst.
We were then hustled to a very official room with tables and microphones. Ten Peking University students joined us, and we sat and chatted. They were asked to walk us around the university (in the dark for some reason) and show us around. I braved the cold (my clothes were not warm enough, and I had forgotten my gloves). The sites were not as interesting as my two guides: Vivienne and Vei. Vivienne was studying information management and Vei was studying pediatric medicine. They were sweet and funny women. I pressed them for information, which they happily supplied though it wasn’t always what I had asked. Both cold and tired, I begged off the tour after we had reached the school’s storied gate.
The next morning we were shuffled out to a cloisonné factory. I’m not thrilled about shopping trips, which this obvious was. Cloisonné is an art style of sculpture where a copper vase, plate, or object is formed. Then slivers of copper that have been shaped are attached to the object forming a pattern. Colors are then injected in between the slivers, filling them with different heavy metals. They are then fired in the kiln and then polished with water and stone. What comes out is gorgeous, but what a cost! The guide was a tall imposing man who barked orders at us to follow. The “factory” was run down buildings with poor lighting, inadequate workspace and toilet facilities, and dangerous working conditions. The workers’ chairs were on the verge of collapsing. All of the work was being done without gloves or a mask. There were women, who did not even turn to look at us, injecting heavy metals like iron and cobalt (red and blue, respectively) into the spaces without a mask. Can you imagine the particles that they are inhaling and bringing home with them? And then to see the polishing system, again no masks, and think about the fine particles that are entering their lungs. It was an OSHA nightmare. This, this was a sweatshop. After being paraded through the gift shop and tantalized by pretty and shiny things, we were whisked away to the Ming Tombs.
I wish I could say something thoughtful about the Ming Tombs, but like most of Chinese sites, they were lot of big spaces with nothing in them: except one room with several red coffins. But there was no signage, not even in Chinese. It was lovely if not austere. We ran into several SAS students who were in Beijing independently. As I have already written, this was the day we found out about the death of Kurt Leswing. These students had either just heard the news from us or had received phone calls/texts that morning. Everyone was in shock, and this sight was spent more reflecting on Kurt, the ship, and our trip in midst of the turmoil. Beijing felt our pain, and sent us some snowflakes to calm our spirits.
After yet another impossibly large meal, we headed to the crown jewel of our trip: the Great Wall. During preport, Prof. Patricia O’Neill disabused us of the myth that the Great Wall can bee seen from space. It is not nearly tall enough to be seen. It is quite grand nonetheless. We had been warned of the swarm of people, but the chill of the day had chased away most would-be-tourists. I did not realize the magnitude of the decent that we would be taking. It was literally straight up by stairs. And not the 6-inch stair height we are use to. No, no this was more like a foot high at least. The railing to hold on was about 6 inches up from the ground and was of no help. At the beginning there was a swarm of people, and I worried that they would knock me down and I would plunge to my death. Chinese people (or at least those in Beijing) are a pushy people. They need to get somewhere, and if you’re in the way, they will get past you. Not unlike those from New York City. Cristina (from Venezuela) and I climbed up together. The first 500 steps had no landing; they went straight up. It is no exaggeration to say that I went up and down several thousand steps. After the first pass, I was sweating, breathing hard, and afraid that the afternoon’s lunch would exit they way it had entered. Apparently running and working out everyday was not enough to scale these steps. Expect people would get to one landing rest and have a cigarette. Luckily, the ill feeling never returned.
Aside from the capers of climbing walls for hours, looking out turrets with legs and knees shaking, and hoping for the end to come, the Great Wall was incredible. The Wall undulated with the surrounding mountains and hills. The lackluster brown bricks melted into the natural environment. Because Cristina and I (joined later by Lisa, a chair of the Intercultural Ambassadors group) decided to take the long way around, there was literally no one but us on long stretches of the Wall. It was as majestic as you would imagine, though the neighboring freeway and train tracks did distract. It is weird even now to think that I walked around those steps. Who were the nameless that trekked through the mountains laden with bricks? How many lives were lost in the creation of this vast wall? I sat for a while and wondered about my life, where I was, who had been there before, who was coming after me, where would I be later in my life, etc. All those lovely existential thoughts.
Lisa, Cristina and I were the last to board the bus and we headed off for another meal. We went to another restaurant in a dining hall and were joined by some Peking University students. I begged off the “party” the students had afterwards, and retreated to a semi-bath and bed.
The next day, we headed to Tiananmen Square where most of our day would be spent. We were told that we could meet up with the group at noon for lunch or 2pm if we wanted lunch on our own. After that, we were given free reign on our day. We were told that the museum was closed due to renovation and the government buildings were closed to visitors, we decided to head to “old Beijing”. Like many “old city” centers, the facades had taken on a touristy air, but tucked behind the main roads were side streets and alleys where residents reside. They speak a Beijing language that deviates from Mandarin, though the dialect is beginning to die out. I bought a stick of crab apples that had been dipped into sugar syrup and bit into the crunchy, sticky sweetness. Mariana and I wandered around for a while, and ran into a Tibetan store. I was moved by the music emanating from the store and the beautiful Tibetan women who managed the store. I bought a lovely knit hat with three feet braids and matching mittens; they’re lovely.
We noticed that we were ten minutes from meeting the group for lunch, and I ended up telling Mariana to meet me at the obelisk, as I would run through Tiananmen Square to meet the group. That was also surreal, running through Tiananmen Square, avoiding the numerous Chinese tourists. I looked for our little blue flag of the tour guide, but it was not to be seen. Apparently the local police had not been paid off enough. After another huge lunch (this time with French-fries) we walked to the Forbidden City. We passed the first gate with the large picture of Chairman Mao, looking down at us.
The Forbidden City is vast, filled with temple after temple, with palaces, and long stretches of marble staircases and molding. Large copper vats gilded in gold (most scratched off by vandals) sat next to the large buildings were once filled with water in case of fires. The buildings were brightly colored red, with ornate roofs and awnings. I breathed profoundly to take in the beauty of this area. We were given audio aids and I listened intently to the voice in my box. Mariana and I walked to and fro from building to building. She was so happy and overwhelmed by the experience. I loved spending time with her, Cristina and Daniela. We spent the whole time speaking in Spanish; it was like being home. From there we climbed up to the pagoda at Jingshan Park, where we saw the best views of the Forbidden City. My legs shook and my knees hurt as I clambered up.
After yet another delicious and filing meal (this one with Peking Duck), we saw what had to be the best performance of my life. We went to an acrobatic show, where people jumped through hoops, three rings high; 10 people rode one bicycle; former Olympic gymnasts contorting their bodies; a hamster wheel of death, where a performer, while spinning on the wheel, jumped rope blindfolded. I cannot at all do justice to what was seen. I was frightened most of the time, watching the show through my fingers. What a way to end a night.
By the next day, I was pretty exhausted of having a planned agenda and just tired in general. Our first stop was the Summer Palace. It’s situated on a beautiful lake. The Temple of Incense sits atop a hill and peers down at the former summer home of emperors. After a long walk down the Long Corridor and some hot chocolate, I waited by the Marble Boat (a boat build of marble, commissioned by an extravagant empress, which obviously never floated) for our own trip across the lake. After another gut-filing lunch, we hit our final stop of Temple of Heaven: a gorgeous number of temples. We stood on top of the world, yelled at the Echo Wall, and enjoyed the general splendor of the Temple. Exhausted, we were ushered back onto the bus as we made our way to the airport. We landed in Shanghai, a city none of us had ever seen before, and were hurried back to the ship. Shanghai was imposing, and I spent no time in the city (I had an application to write the following day) so the most time I spent in Shanghai was in line behind other trips waiting to board the trip.
Well it’s half an hour later than I anticipated going to bed. So I will call it a night. I hope to write about Japan before I arrive in Hawai’i.
Much love, and I can’t wait to see and talk to you all
Angelica
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Sticky Rice
Gentle People
I am on the sea heading to Yokohama, Japan after spending two days in Kobe. This has been literally the first day off I have had since I started in August. Usually I have meetings, working on a project, etc., but today I woke up at 9:45am and spent the day eating, enjoying my friends, playing Apples to Apples, running 2.5 miles, and generally having a great time. It has been peaceful on the ship, only about 200 participants on board. Few people pass by, the gym was empty, and we all fit in one room in only one dining hall. For dinner, people dressed up, I put on my cherry red dress made of sari material I bought in Malaysia and had made in Viet Nam, and my black heels. The crew ran around, busy and proud to show off their skills. At the end of the dining service, there was a rush of cheers and applause, and the crew beamed with pride. I spent the dinner with Becca and Brooke form the Field office, Nikki B (LLC), and Garrett (Film Editor), telling and trying to solve riddles. Like:
A man is driving in the desert and he passes a bar. He drives further, then turns around and heads back to the bar. He asks the bartender for a glass of water, the bartender pulls a gun on him, and he says “thanks” and leaves. What happened? (email/post comments if you know the answer)
Now I’m sitting in my room watching Oprah 20 year celebration DVD. It’s great. Usually we have movies about the countries we are going to visit, and for some reason they are always about war, poverty, women in brothels or being beat. Generally, they’re pretty much of a downer. So, Oprah is so happy and positive, it’s a nice distraction from the horribleness.
I recognize that I’m a bit tardy with my posts, but I have had two days between ports with a lot of work in between. But I write with great alacrity so that I do not forget the incredible time in Viet Nam. The night before we ported in Ho Chi Mihn (which everyone who lives there calls Saigon) we had a going away party for Elysia, Nate (the A/V guy’s partner) who was leaving us in Viet Nam. There were festivities, dancing, and spirits. I didn’t not wake up very early the next day I usually do. We were porting very late in Saigon, so instead of having a full breakfast, we had a small continental breakfast and a brunch. I woke up and peered out the window. The usual blue water was a murky brown, and the riverbank was green and close to the ship. Unlike most ports where we pulled into a harbor from the sea, here we sailed up the river to Saigon. We arrived around 1pm and disembarked pretty quickly. As usual, I was in my cabin trying to nap when over the loud speaker the Voice says: “will the LLCs please come to the Faculty/Staff Lounge to distribute passport.” My nap is foiled again!
Nikki, Brooke C., Curtis, and I headed into town to walk around. Saigon was hot and humid, so instead of walking a few kilometers into town, we took the free shuttle into town and were dropped off in front of the Rex Hotel. We were told, that traffic in Saigon was a thing to behold. There were scooters everywhere and lights were a suggestion, lines where a distraction, and sidewalks were another area to drive. To cross the street you look for an opening (cars and motorcycles do not stop) and then walk slowly across the street. If you stop, you are more likely to be hit. You walk slowly and the vehicles swerve to avoid you. It was scary, but I trusted that I would be okay, and followed the locals.
As in all countries, I was excited to eat Vietnamese food. Brooke, the trip leader yet again, found us the Viet Nam House. It was quiet and beautiful, and the service was fast and attentive. We had spring rolls to start, and then I had a beautiful bowl of beef pho. For those of you who have not had pho (Cristobal, I thought about you the whole time!), it’s a soup of beef broth, thick noodles, and pieces of cooked steak. I squeezed in limejuice, tore up basil leaves, and tossed in bean sprouts and chile. I finished every last drop. As a perfect ending, I had fried banana and chocolate ice cream. Could anything be better?
We decided to look for tailors to have dresses and other clothing made. I took sari material that I had bought on sale in Malaysia and one of my favorite dresses to use it as a pattern. I was fitted and happy to get something made. We walked around some more, stopping at stores and picking up knick-knacks. Time was escaping us, so we hustled over to the night market. Fake bags and clothes filled each stand. But more interestingly were the cable lines above us. Unlike in the U.S. where we put most of our lines underground to hide them, in Viet Nam they are overhead. They wrap the line poles in coils and coils of lines. It is called Saigon Spaghetti. I found it all over Viet Nam.
With less than shopping and eating under our belts, we headed over to Lemon Grass for dinner. I again had pho and fried banana. Duh. I ate that probably at every meal. It was delicious. Amy’s brother Jay was there and a new person entered our happy party.
As is typical of my times in port, I did not get enough sleep and was subsequently exhausted. I reread a lot of my personal journal entries and they usually start with: “so I’m exhausted and don’t know how much I can write.” Pretty pathetic, but true. As usual, I was up at 4:15am for my 4:30am departure. Eleven students and I were heading to Ha Noi in the North of Veit Nam (Saigon is in the south) and to a village, Mau Chau, west of Viet Nam. It was a small group, and I knew that it was going to be great. I had been up the night before making copies of sudoku and crossword puzzles for the students, because we were leaving at 5am and arriving at the village at 5:30pm. It was going to be a long ride. I passed out in the plane, and arrived in Ha Noi. It was pouring rain. I mean torrential.
We were hustled onto a small bus with our tour guide, Yang. Our driver was a woman (a very big thing in these parts) and her husband was her helper. He sat on a little stool, paid for the tolls, and kept her company. They were a cute group. Yang tried to tell us about our trip, but the entire bus, except me fell asleep. We drove through Ha Noi, and the streets were flooded with brown river water hitting the sidewalks. The rain continued for the next 3 hours. We passed by rice, corn, and sugar cane fields. It was black sugar cane, which you sucked with your mouth. The rice paddies were swollen in the water. And the mountains were imposing and lush and green. It was a sight to be seen. We stopped for a quick food break. The bus driver and her husband stared at the boxed lunch we had given them: a salami sandwich, rolled up roast beef, Oreos, chocolate cake, and a boiled egg. They ate the boiled egg. After a fun time with the toilet, ah squatters, we head on to the village.
We passed stands of oranges (that are green instead of orange) and bananas. The streets began to give way, with the asphalt not making it to the sidewalks, which sometimes did not exist. Children and bikes played in the street, and people sat in their porches on their haunches (try it, it’s REALLY hard). It’s interesting to see scaffolding made of bamboo (this was common in India, Malaysia, and in China).
We went up one overpass, and the mountains turned from green to a slate grey. It was as if a pall was cast on us. We stopped at a market on top of the pass to purchase food from the Hmong people. There were pumpkins, orchids, a cilantro/parsley herb, lettuces, etc. It all looked so good. They roasted corn over burning coal. The smell was intoxicating
We continued on the way to the village and broke off from the main road. The village was a preserved village of the White Thai tribe. The White Thai are related to the people of Thailand, but unlike the people in Thailand, they stayed in Viet Nam and did not continue the journey to Thailand. The Viet people are actually also not from Viet Nam, but rather South China. You may be wondering why I spell the country Viet Nam; it is because that is how they spell it. Viet is for the Viet people, and Nam means “man”.
The village was active with Thai people, who spoke no English and little Vietnamese. But knowing the tourists would like to “experience” a small village in Viet Nam, it had lost some of its authenticity. But the people had not lost their kindness, gentleness, or their simple life. We clambered up to the second floor of the long house (the name for the shape of the house). The house is built on stilts, and the “dining room”, kitchen, and loom were downstairs and open, while the bedrooms were upstairs. In the past, the ground floor was where the animals were kept, but due to hygiene, that has since changed. It was quiet and peaceful. Chickens and roosters ran around in the street. After resting and cleaning up, we headed out for a walk in the rice paddies. It rained lightly. The views were majestic. The hills were misted over and the land and hills were verdant. We walked through narrow walkways between paddy fields. Yang caught a locust to show us it. He told us that on the paddies we needed to make sure we did not get lost, that we had to be like “sticky rice”. Giant butterflies glided by us. As we ended the walk, the walkways became less secure and I slipped and my leg fell knee deep into the rice paddy. Good thing my pants are quick drying.
Dinner was fantastic, with rice, bright greens, pork, chicken, and other delicious dishes. It rained had rained pretty steadily all day and there was no sign of stopping. In our long bedroom, we had a performance. We moved our mats out of the way, and tribal teenagers in beautiful costumes came and performed. We heard them coming, their loud drums leading the way. They danced with fans, fake trees and swords. At the end they brought out bamboo sticks to dance with and had us join them. My students laughed at my lack of coordination. After the long and tiring day we retired to our mats and zipped up in our mosquito nets.
The next morning we took another walk around the village and into the bigger city. The streets crumbled at the ends and there were no sidewalks. Water buffalo meandered on the streets, their horns pointing backward (unlike cattle) and their mouths’ filled with only one row of teeth, the top. The food market was set up in small winding paths between buildings. Fruit, vegetables, and prepared foods filled the stands. In tubs sat frogs, apparently their back legs broken so that they could not escape. We returned to a wonderful lunch and hopped on the bus for the long drive back to Ha Noi.
As we made our way over two passes, the rain started up again in earnest. And it did not stop, rather the speed and amount increased as we closed in on Ha Noi. When we entered the vicinity of Ha Noi we stopped. Cars and motorcycles were parked on the side of the street. The main street into Ha Noi was flooded. After consultation on the phone and with people on the street, Yang made an executive decision: we were to grab our things and wade through the river. On the other side, a bus would meet us to escort us to the hotel and dinner. At first I thought has joking, but when we saw that he was clearly not, a student in the back of the bus asked, “How high is the water?” Yang indicated that it was mid-thigh high. Someone else then asked Yang how far we had to walk. He said about 2 to 3 kilometers.
I slung my backpack and messenger bag on, and zipped up my raincoat. I changed into my flip-flops and rolled up pants to above my knee (still the trusty quick drying pants). We stepped out of the bus and into the steady rain and began our journey. Lots of people were walking and pushing their bikes. At first it was ankle deep. No problem. But after about 10 minutes the water began rising, and then it was really mid-thigh. And then hip high. My students worried about me in the rising water since I’m short. We would yell out “sticky rice!” to make sure that we were all together. “Sticky rice” became our phrase. Our travel in the water was epic. No student complained and we all saw it as an adventure. We passed military trucks, tourists being pushed in carts, and a very tall German man in a pink shirt who decided to take his pants off to keep them dry. The water started to fall and we thought it was over. The German had put his pants back on. But alas, we entered again into the hip-deep water. The water moved gently and was a muddy brown. We walked in the water for 2 hours. And it was night when we were picked up at an auto body shop. The owner put out stools for us and poured us tea. This is quite possibly the best day of my life. This was a real cultural experience and we were with the Vietnamese. But even though it was great for us, almost 50 people lost their lives because of the flooding. The little annoyance for us was heartbreaking for others.
After checking into the hotel we headed to dinner at a wonderful Vietnamese restaurant. I sat with wonderful women, Kassandra, Michelle, Lauren, Jessica, and Andrea and we laughed at the day. First we started off waking up in a village in Northern Viet Nam, waded through a flood, and were now having a five-course meal. It was surreal. And I of course had my trusty quick-drying pants on.
After dinner we went to see a water puppet show. Water puppets are like regular puppets, but the stage is submerged in water, and bamboo sticks that are under the water move the puppets. A monk who used the submerged rice paddies as his inspiration created the water puppet genre. Heather is a particular fan of it ;). A prophet turtle, dancing cranes, a funeral procession and more made up the show. We returned to the hotel, and Michelle and I watched Harry Potter the Order of the Phoenix.
In the morning we went and visited Ho Chi Mihn’s mausoleum and his long house. It’s very communist, but I imagine that Ho Chi Mihn would not like all the tourist, visitors, and pomp and circumstance that his grave and home are given. We then headed to the “Ha Noi Hilton”, the infamous jail that once held Sen. John McCain. In the late 19th century and early 20th century it was a prison that held Vietnamese that fought the occupation of France. Guillotines were used on rebels. In one cell they showed where prisoners were held, their ankles in restrains laying on their backs at an angle so that the blood would rush to their heads. It is disgusting what we will do to hurt other humans. How can any of us be so cruel and despicable? I had to take breaks so that I would not start bawling. There was a room at the end of the tour that showed pictures of American captives. They were hanging Christmas ornaments and playing basketball. Pictures showed Sen. John McCain visiting his old cell. It looked oddly sweet. It was interesting to see how the museum had set up the French at being hurtful, yet their sins were not displayed. At the War Remnants Museum in Saigon, they called out the Americans on the horrors that we inflicted on their country. But as it is in most countries, they show themselves as heroic and not as the perpetrators of evil and pain.
The rest of the afternoon was on our own, and Michelle, Lauren, Andrea, Heather, and Jessica specifically asked me to join them for lunch. Students usually run away from staff, especially the LLCs, but these ladies made me feel so welcomes. I enjoyed yet another bowl of pho and chocolate cake. We looked at incredible art, I only with I had the money to afford. And then looked for knick-knacks until we piled on the bus to come back to Saigon.
My last day in Saigon, I chose to spend on my own. I took the shuttle into town and had lunch at the smaller Lemon Grass restaurant. Jonah, a student from the Election’s Committee, walked in alone and joined me on my last bowl of pho. Jonah attends Pitt and is easily one of my favorite students on the ship. I headed over to pick up my dress (that to make a few alterations) and then walked around the city for a bit. I headed to the big market where I was overwhelmed by the amount of things and people yelling at me to buy stuff. So, I headed off to the post office, which is this gorgeous brick building with a colonial style inside. I walked back to pick up my dress and to have some hot chocolate and write post cards. I caught view of Brooke (field office) who was waiting for Brittany (the photographer). We tried to take the elevator to the top floor of the tallest building in Saigon but were denied. So instead we went to the Continental Hotel to toast Brooke’s dad who had spent many of night there during the war.
I hurried back to the ship to work. The last shuttle was to leave at 8:30pm. What I don’t get, is how people (students, staff, and faculty) don’t realize that they really need to get back early. So, the shuttle was blamed for arriving at 9pm, which meant everyone was getting dock time. This was the first port where LOTS of people were late, including faculty and staff. And there were some angry folks. Usually we start work about an hour and a half before on ship time to about a half hour before. This time we worked about an hour and a half after on ship time. It was a big cluster. But everyone made it on, and we were now headed to Hong Kong.
Thank you if you made it this far, I know that I have written a lot, but Viet Nam was wonderful. Like in all countries, I did not spend nearly the time I would want to spend. It was an incredible time.
I am on the sea heading to Yokohama, Japan after spending two days in Kobe. This has been literally the first day off I have had since I started in August. Usually I have meetings, working on a project, etc., but today I woke up at 9:45am and spent the day eating, enjoying my friends, playing Apples to Apples, running 2.5 miles, and generally having a great time. It has been peaceful on the ship, only about 200 participants on board. Few people pass by, the gym was empty, and we all fit in one room in only one dining hall. For dinner, people dressed up, I put on my cherry red dress made of sari material I bought in Malaysia and had made in Viet Nam, and my black heels. The crew ran around, busy and proud to show off their skills. At the end of the dining service, there was a rush of cheers and applause, and the crew beamed with pride. I spent the dinner with Becca and Brooke form the Field office, Nikki B (LLC), and Garrett (Film Editor), telling and trying to solve riddles. Like:
A man is driving in the desert and he passes a bar. He drives further, then turns around and heads back to the bar. He asks the bartender for a glass of water, the bartender pulls a gun on him, and he says “thanks” and leaves. What happened? (email/post comments if you know the answer)
Now I’m sitting in my room watching Oprah 20 year celebration DVD. It’s great. Usually we have movies about the countries we are going to visit, and for some reason they are always about war, poverty, women in brothels or being beat. Generally, they’re pretty much of a downer. So, Oprah is so happy and positive, it’s a nice distraction from the horribleness.
I recognize that I’m a bit tardy with my posts, but I have had two days between ports with a lot of work in between. But I write with great alacrity so that I do not forget the incredible time in Viet Nam. The night before we ported in Ho Chi Mihn (which everyone who lives there calls Saigon) we had a going away party for Elysia, Nate (the A/V guy’s partner) who was leaving us in Viet Nam. There were festivities, dancing, and spirits. I didn’t not wake up very early the next day I usually do. We were porting very late in Saigon, so instead of having a full breakfast, we had a small continental breakfast and a brunch. I woke up and peered out the window. The usual blue water was a murky brown, and the riverbank was green and close to the ship. Unlike most ports where we pulled into a harbor from the sea, here we sailed up the river to Saigon. We arrived around 1pm and disembarked pretty quickly. As usual, I was in my cabin trying to nap when over the loud speaker the Voice says: “will the LLCs please come to the Faculty/Staff Lounge to distribute passport.” My nap is foiled again!
Nikki, Brooke C., Curtis, and I headed into town to walk around. Saigon was hot and humid, so instead of walking a few kilometers into town, we took the free shuttle into town and were dropped off in front of the Rex Hotel. We were told, that traffic in Saigon was a thing to behold. There were scooters everywhere and lights were a suggestion, lines where a distraction, and sidewalks were another area to drive. To cross the street you look for an opening (cars and motorcycles do not stop) and then walk slowly across the street. If you stop, you are more likely to be hit. You walk slowly and the vehicles swerve to avoid you. It was scary, but I trusted that I would be okay, and followed the locals.
As in all countries, I was excited to eat Vietnamese food. Brooke, the trip leader yet again, found us the Viet Nam House. It was quiet and beautiful, and the service was fast and attentive. We had spring rolls to start, and then I had a beautiful bowl of beef pho. For those of you who have not had pho (Cristobal, I thought about you the whole time!), it’s a soup of beef broth, thick noodles, and pieces of cooked steak. I squeezed in limejuice, tore up basil leaves, and tossed in bean sprouts and chile. I finished every last drop. As a perfect ending, I had fried banana and chocolate ice cream. Could anything be better?
We decided to look for tailors to have dresses and other clothing made. I took sari material that I had bought on sale in Malaysia and one of my favorite dresses to use it as a pattern. I was fitted and happy to get something made. We walked around some more, stopping at stores and picking up knick-knacks. Time was escaping us, so we hustled over to the night market. Fake bags and clothes filled each stand. But more interestingly were the cable lines above us. Unlike in the U.S. where we put most of our lines underground to hide them, in Viet Nam they are overhead. They wrap the line poles in coils and coils of lines. It is called Saigon Spaghetti. I found it all over Viet Nam.
With less than shopping and eating under our belts, we headed over to Lemon Grass for dinner. I again had pho and fried banana. Duh. I ate that probably at every meal. It was delicious. Amy’s brother Jay was there and a new person entered our happy party.
As is typical of my times in port, I did not get enough sleep and was subsequently exhausted. I reread a lot of my personal journal entries and they usually start with: “so I’m exhausted and don’t know how much I can write.” Pretty pathetic, but true. As usual, I was up at 4:15am for my 4:30am departure. Eleven students and I were heading to Ha Noi in the North of Veit Nam (Saigon is in the south) and to a village, Mau Chau, west of Viet Nam. It was a small group, and I knew that it was going to be great. I had been up the night before making copies of sudoku and crossword puzzles for the students, because we were leaving at 5am and arriving at the village at 5:30pm. It was going to be a long ride. I passed out in the plane, and arrived in Ha Noi. It was pouring rain. I mean torrential.
We were hustled onto a small bus with our tour guide, Yang. Our driver was a woman (a very big thing in these parts) and her husband was her helper. He sat on a little stool, paid for the tolls, and kept her company. They were a cute group. Yang tried to tell us about our trip, but the entire bus, except me fell asleep. We drove through Ha Noi, and the streets were flooded with brown river water hitting the sidewalks. The rain continued for the next 3 hours. We passed by rice, corn, and sugar cane fields. It was black sugar cane, which you sucked with your mouth. The rice paddies were swollen in the water. And the mountains were imposing and lush and green. It was a sight to be seen. We stopped for a quick food break. The bus driver and her husband stared at the boxed lunch we had given them: a salami sandwich, rolled up roast beef, Oreos, chocolate cake, and a boiled egg. They ate the boiled egg. After a fun time with the toilet, ah squatters, we head on to the village.
We passed stands of oranges (that are green instead of orange) and bananas. The streets began to give way, with the asphalt not making it to the sidewalks, which sometimes did not exist. Children and bikes played in the street, and people sat in their porches on their haunches (try it, it’s REALLY hard). It’s interesting to see scaffolding made of bamboo (this was common in India, Malaysia, and in China).
We went up one overpass, and the mountains turned from green to a slate grey. It was as if a pall was cast on us. We stopped at a market on top of the pass to purchase food from the Hmong people. There were pumpkins, orchids, a cilantro/parsley herb, lettuces, etc. It all looked so good. They roasted corn over burning coal. The smell was intoxicating
We continued on the way to the village and broke off from the main road. The village was a preserved village of the White Thai tribe. The White Thai are related to the people of Thailand, but unlike the people in Thailand, they stayed in Viet Nam and did not continue the journey to Thailand. The Viet people are actually also not from Viet Nam, but rather South China. You may be wondering why I spell the country Viet Nam; it is because that is how they spell it. Viet is for the Viet people, and Nam means “man”.
The village was active with Thai people, who spoke no English and little Vietnamese. But knowing the tourists would like to “experience” a small village in Viet Nam, it had lost some of its authenticity. But the people had not lost their kindness, gentleness, or their simple life. We clambered up to the second floor of the long house (the name for the shape of the house). The house is built on stilts, and the “dining room”, kitchen, and loom were downstairs and open, while the bedrooms were upstairs. In the past, the ground floor was where the animals were kept, but due to hygiene, that has since changed. It was quiet and peaceful. Chickens and roosters ran around in the street. After resting and cleaning up, we headed out for a walk in the rice paddies. It rained lightly. The views were majestic. The hills were misted over and the land and hills were verdant. We walked through narrow walkways between paddy fields. Yang caught a locust to show us it. He told us that on the paddies we needed to make sure we did not get lost, that we had to be like “sticky rice”. Giant butterflies glided by us. As we ended the walk, the walkways became less secure and I slipped and my leg fell knee deep into the rice paddy. Good thing my pants are quick drying.
Dinner was fantastic, with rice, bright greens, pork, chicken, and other delicious dishes. It rained had rained pretty steadily all day and there was no sign of stopping. In our long bedroom, we had a performance. We moved our mats out of the way, and tribal teenagers in beautiful costumes came and performed. We heard them coming, their loud drums leading the way. They danced with fans, fake trees and swords. At the end they brought out bamboo sticks to dance with and had us join them. My students laughed at my lack of coordination. After the long and tiring day we retired to our mats and zipped up in our mosquito nets.
The next morning we took another walk around the village and into the bigger city. The streets crumbled at the ends and there were no sidewalks. Water buffalo meandered on the streets, their horns pointing backward (unlike cattle) and their mouths’ filled with only one row of teeth, the top. The food market was set up in small winding paths between buildings. Fruit, vegetables, and prepared foods filled the stands. In tubs sat frogs, apparently their back legs broken so that they could not escape. We returned to a wonderful lunch and hopped on the bus for the long drive back to Ha Noi.
As we made our way over two passes, the rain started up again in earnest. And it did not stop, rather the speed and amount increased as we closed in on Ha Noi. When we entered the vicinity of Ha Noi we stopped. Cars and motorcycles were parked on the side of the street. The main street into Ha Noi was flooded. After consultation on the phone and with people on the street, Yang made an executive decision: we were to grab our things and wade through the river. On the other side, a bus would meet us to escort us to the hotel and dinner. At first I thought has joking, but when we saw that he was clearly not, a student in the back of the bus asked, “How high is the water?” Yang indicated that it was mid-thigh high. Someone else then asked Yang how far we had to walk. He said about 2 to 3 kilometers.
I slung my backpack and messenger bag on, and zipped up my raincoat. I changed into my flip-flops and rolled up pants to above my knee (still the trusty quick drying pants). We stepped out of the bus and into the steady rain and began our journey. Lots of people were walking and pushing their bikes. At first it was ankle deep. No problem. But after about 10 minutes the water began rising, and then it was really mid-thigh. And then hip high. My students worried about me in the rising water since I’m short. We would yell out “sticky rice!” to make sure that we were all together. “Sticky rice” became our phrase. Our travel in the water was epic. No student complained and we all saw it as an adventure. We passed military trucks, tourists being pushed in carts, and a very tall German man in a pink shirt who decided to take his pants off to keep them dry. The water started to fall and we thought it was over. The German had put his pants back on. But alas, we entered again into the hip-deep water. The water moved gently and was a muddy brown. We walked in the water for 2 hours. And it was night when we were picked up at an auto body shop. The owner put out stools for us and poured us tea. This is quite possibly the best day of my life. This was a real cultural experience and we were with the Vietnamese. But even though it was great for us, almost 50 people lost their lives because of the flooding. The little annoyance for us was heartbreaking for others.
After checking into the hotel we headed to dinner at a wonderful Vietnamese restaurant. I sat with wonderful women, Kassandra, Michelle, Lauren, Jessica, and Andrea and we laughed at the day. First we started off waking up in a village in Northern Viet Nam, waded through a flood, and were now having a five-course meal. It was surreal. And I of course had my trusty quick-drying pants on.
After dinner we went to see a water puppet show. Water puppets are like regular puppets, but the stage is submerged in water, and bamboo sticks that are under the water move the puppets. A monk who used the submerged rice paddies as his inspiration created the water puppet genre. Heather is a particular fan of it ;). A prophet turtle, dancing cranes, a funeral procession and more made up the show. We returned to the hotel, and Michelle and I watched Harry Potter the Order of the Phoenix.
In the morning we went and visited Ho Chi Mihn’s mausoleum and his long house. It’s very communist, but I imagine that Ho Chi Mihn would not like all the tourist, visitors, and pomp and circumstance that his grave and home are given. We then headed to the “Ha Noi Hilton”, the infamous jail that once held Sen. John McCain. In the late 19th century and early 20th century it was a prison that held Vietnamese that fought the occupation of France. Guillotines were used on rebels. In one cell they showed where prisoners were held, their ankles in restrains laying on their backs at an angle so that the blood would rush to their heads. It is disgusting what we will do to hurt other humans. How can any of us be so cruel and despicable? I had to take breaks so that I would not start bawling. There was a room at the end of the tour that showed pictures of American captives. They were hanging Christmas ornaments and playing basketball. Pictures showed Sen. John McCain visiting his old cell. It looked oddly sweet. It was interesting to see how the museum had set up the French at being hurtful, yet their sins were not displayed. At the War Remnants Museum in Saigon, they called out the Americans on the horrors that we inflicted on their country. But as it is in most countries, they show themselves as heroic and not as the perpetrators of evil and pain.
The rest of the afternoon was on our own, and Michelle, Lauren, Andrea, Heather, and Jessica specifically asked me to join them for lunch. Students usually run away from staff, especially the LLCs, but these ladies made me feel so welcomes. I enjoyed yet another bowl of pho and chocolate cake. We looked at incredible art, I only with I had the money to afford. And then looked for knick-knacks until we piled on the bus to come back to Saigon.
My last day in Saigon, I chose to spend on my own. I took the shuttle into town and had lunch at the smaller Lemon Grass restaurant. Jonah, a student from the Election’s Committee, walked in alone and joined me on my last bowl of pho. Jonah attends Pitt and is easily one of my favorite students on the ship. I headed over to pick up my dress (that to make a few alterations) and then walked around the city for a bit. I headed to the big market where I was overwhelmed by the amount of things and people yelling at me to buy stuff. So, I headed off to the post office, which is this gorgeous brick building with a colonial style inside. I walked back to pick up my dress and to have some hot chocolate and write post cards. I caught view of Brooke (field office) who was waiting for Brittany (the photographer). We tried to take the elevator to the top floor of the tallest building in Saigon but were denied. So instead we went to the Continental Hotel to toast Brooke’s dad who had spent many of night there during the war.
I hurried back to the ship to work. The last shuttle was to leave at 8:30pm. What I don’t get, is how people (students, staff, and faculty) don’t realize that they really need to get back early. So, the shuttle was blamed for arriving at 9pm, which meant everyone was getting dock time. This was the first port where LOTS of people were late, including faculty and staff. And there were some angry folks. Usually we start work about an hour and a half before on ship time to about a half hour before. This time we worked about an hour and a half after on ship time. It was a big cluster. But everyone made it on, and we were now headed to Hong Kong.
Thank you if you made it this far, I know that I have written a lot, but Viet Nam was wonderful. Like in all countries, I did not spend nearly the time I would want to spend. It was an incredible time.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday
As some of you know, Semester at Sea lost one of its participants. In the early morning of Friday, November 7, 2008, Kurt Leswing, a student from the University of Wisconsin, passed away after being struck by a car. I did not know Kurt well, he had started attending Ambassador’s meeting a month before his death, and I had not yet been able to see his potential as a leader. Others will do a better job of talking about Kurt, his kindness and pursuits to grow as a global citizen. So, instead I will focus on my experience and my observations of the student body and shipboard community.
I had arrived in Beijing the late afternoon of November 7, 2008. The ship had learned of Kurt’s death late that afternoon as well. His ship’s ID had not been with him and Hong Kong officials had not known that he was a student with SAS. The next day, I headed from my hotel room to breakfast where I was informed that Kurt had died. I took a deep breath and then thought about how to tell our students. I couldn’t cry, but my heart ached for Kurt, his family, and the students. We gathered on the bus, which was its noisy self. People were excited; today we were going to the Great Wall of China. Mike, our trip leader, softly told the students what happened. The students were silent, hushed by sadness and shock. Dana, one of my residents cried softly. I handed her a tissue. I offered to speak to anyone who needed to. The drive to the cloisonné factory was silent. After our excursions, people were happy and laughing. But he was not far from people’s mind. Lisa, one of the chairs for the Ambassador’s intercultural committee, reminded me that he was part of our group. Dana tearfully said “We lost someone in our community.” We met students who were on independent trips who learned about it from our students or by email or text.
As we made or way back from Beijing, students noted how odd it was to not be around during the tragedy. Students felt frustrated, sad, angry, and guilty. I headed back to my cabin when I returned, but I couldn’t sleep so I sat in the hallway with my laptop. A crying student passed me, and I gave him a hug. He stated that he didn’t know Kurt well, but that it made him remember his sick father at home. Another student who had recently lost a family member said her heart went out to the family who she knew must be in pain. Students were quiet and somber. Shalina, his LLC, came up to me, and Brooke Roberts who was on duty. The three of us hugged, kissed, and cried. We broke off to go back to our rooms.
The next day, after we were all on board and ready to sail to Japan we met to inform the entire student body and answer questions we all might have. I sat in the back with other staff, and stared at my feet while I cried into my hands. The Union was silent, with occasional coughing and noses being blown. The meeting was informative, but unfulfilling. After Japan we will have a commemorative service, to say goodbye.
As those in Student Affairs know, losing a student is the worst thing that can happen. The shipboard community has come together, which is beautiful. But my heart still aches. On the links section is a link to the SAS information about Kurt’s death. I wish I could end on a happy note, instead I will with his favorite quote:
"Take the anger from your hearts. Wipe the tears from God's eyes. And live a life of love." – Archbishop Desmond Tutu at his talk with SAS in South Africa
I had arrived in Beijing the late afternoon of November 7, 2008. The ship had learned of Kurt’s death late that afternoon as well. His ship’s ID had not been with him and Hong Kong officials had not known that he was a student with SAS. The next day, I headed from my hotel room to breakfast where I was informed that Kurt had died. I took a deep breath and then thought about how to tell our students. I couldn’t cry, but my heart ached for Kurt, his family, and the students. We gathered on the bus, which was its noisy self. People were excited; today we were going to the Great Wall of China. Mike, our trip leader, softly told the students what happened. The students were silent, hushed by sadness and shock. Dana, one of my residents cried softly. I handed her a tissue. I offered to speak to anyone who needed to. The drive to the cloisonné factory was silent. After our excursions, people were happy and laughing. But he was not far from people’s mind. Lisa, one of the chairs for the Ambassador’s intercultural committee, reminded me that he was part of our group. Dana tearfully said “We lost someone in our community.” We met students who were on independent trips who learned about it from our students or by email or text.
As we made or way back from Beijing, students noted how odd it was to not be around during the tragedy. Students felt frustrated, sad, angry, and guilty. I headed back to my cabin when I returned, but I couldn’t sleep so I sat in the hallway with my laptop. A crying student passed me, and I gave him a hug. He stated that he didn’t know Kurt well, but that it made him remember his sick father at home. Another student who had recently lost a family member said her heart went out to the family who she knew must be in pain. Students were quiet and somber. Shalina, his LLC, came up to me, and Brooke Roberts who was on duty. The three of us hugged, kissed, and cried. We broke off to go back to our rooms.
The next day, after we were all on board and ready to sail to Japan we met to inform the entire student body and answer questions we all might have. I sat in the back with other staff, and stared at my feet while I cried into my hands. The Union was silent, with occasional coughing and noses being blown. The meeting was informative, but unfulfilling. After Japan we will have a commemorative service, to say goodbye.
As those in Student Affairs know, losing a student is the worst thing that can happen. The shipboard community has come together, which is beautiful. But my heart still aches. On the links section is a link to the SAS information about Kurt’s death. I wish I could end on a happy note, instead I will with his favorite quote:
"Take the anger from your hearts. Wipe the tears from God's eyes. And live a life of love." – Archbishop Desmond Tutu at his talk with SAS in South Africa
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Election at Sea
Hello All
I'm taking a break from writing about my experiences in port to talk about today on the ship. As much as I love ports, the ship life is what makes me want to do this job again. Today was another day that exemplified my life for being on the ship and being in this community.
Today, Wednesday November 5th, I woke up at 7am to follow election coverage in the Union. Seven other people and the Election Committee joined me in the Union. The Committee was streaming in CNN Radio and flipping through different sites like CNN, MSNBC, and The New York Times to show off electoral maps. We are currently 13 hours ahead of Eastern time, and it would be an hour until most polls closed. I flipped through sites on my laptop, craving even innuendos about possible outcomes. As the time creeped closer to 8am, more people shuffled into the Union. We heard that Vermont had gone to Obama, and Kentucky to McCain. The people in the center of the Union clapped and cheered for Obama, while the people on the right side cheered for McCain. Polls rolled in slowly, as I sat with fellow Democrats in the front of the room. The pace picked up at 11am, Virginia and North Carolina were being contested, but Pennsylvania had gone for Obama while Georgia and South Carolina going to McCain. Most of the room cheered as the states started coming in for Obama.
Tracy Ehlers, the faculty leader for the Elections Committee, reminded all students that they should go to class if they had it, but it was not enthusiastic and obviously said to just serve as a reminder and not as a suggestion. A streaming feed of MSNBC was piped in after some not so gentle reminders for the shipboard to community to abstain from using the internet. Larry Butler, a faculty member looked scared and anxious; he cupped his hands in his face and rubbed his temples. People were giddy with excitement. Florida, surprisingly, was a contested state. Ohio went blue and I was certain that Obama would win. People cleared out for a quick lunch, but I stayed put, watching from the TVs in the Union. Heather had come up to me in the Union and hugged me and cried with happiness and excitement. It was wonderful how excited people were
The event began again in earnest at 11:15pm, as more states began to roll in. Obama was at 207 electoral votes, with Hawaii and California still waiting to be counted. The Republican contingent, unfortunately, did not return with the numbers they had at the beginning and soon left the liberal festivities. Then Oregon and Washington came in, and the room erupted with cheers when MSNBC called the election. People started singing the National Anthem. The Election Committee played “God Bless the USA”, then Will.i.am’s “Yes We Can”. Heather, Brooke R., Amy Hill, Cindy, and I sat and cried. Even Garrett sneaked some tears. We were so proud, happy, and relieved.
We clapped appropriately during McCain’s speech, appreciative that he wanted unity and reminded us all that we were all Americans.
Then Obama came on stage; the Union erupted! Again, we cried and sang and clapped. To think that we will have our first Black president! That our First Lady, like Hillary was, will be an educated and strong woman, and a woman of color! Hooray! It was a great day.
I’m now excited and tired. My eyes burn from crying. I’m coming down from my high, but my pride and happiness has yet to dissipate.
Congratulations America! Si Se Puede!!!
I'm taking a break from writing about my experiences in port to talk about today on the ship. As much as I love ports, the ship life is what makes me want to do this job again. Today was another day that exemplified my life for being on the ship and being in this community.
Today, Wednesday November 5th, I woke up at 7am to follow election coverage in the Union. Seven other people and the Election Committee joined me in the Union. The Committee was streaming in CNN Radio and flipping through different sites like CNN, MSNBC, and The New York Times to show off electoral maps. We are currently 13 hours ahead of Eastern time, and it would be an hour until most polls closed. I flipped through sites on my laptop, craving even innuendos about possible outcomes. As the time creeped closer to 8am, more people shuffled into the Union. We heard that Vermont had gone to Obama, and Kentucky to McCain. The people in the center of the Union clapped and cheered for Obama, while the people on the right side cheered for McCain. Polls rolled in slowly, as I sat with fellow Democrats in the front of the room. The pace picked up at 11am, Virginia and North Carolina were being contested, but Pennsylvania had gone for Obama while Georgia and South Carolina going to McCain. Most of the room cheered as the states started coming in for Obama.
Tracy Ehlers, the faculty leader for the Elections Committee, reminded all students that they should go to class if they had it, but it was not enthusiastic and obviously said to just serve as a reminder and not as a suggestion. A streaming feed of MSNBC was piped in after some not so gentle reminders for the shipboard to community to abstain from using the internet. Larry Butler, a faculty member looked scared and anxious; he cupped his hands in his face and rubbed his temples. People were giddy with excitement. Florida, surprisingly, was a contested state. Ohio went blue and I was certain that Obama would win. People cleared out for a quick lunch, but I stayed put, watching from the TVs in the Union. Heather had come up to me in the Union and hugged me and cried with happiness and excitement. It was wonderful how excited people were
The event began again in earnest at 11:15pm, as more states began to roll in. Obama was at 207 electoral votes, with Hawaii and California still waiting to be counted. The Republican contingent, unfortunately, did not return with the numbers they had at the beginning and soon left the liberal festivities. Then Oregon and Washington came in, and the room erupted with cheers when MSNBC called the election. People started singing the National Anthem. The Election Committee played “God Bless the USA”, then Will.i.am’s “Yes We Can”. Heather, Brooke R., Amy Hill, Cindy, and I sat and cried. Even Garrett sneaked some tears. We were so proud, happy, and relieved.
We clapped appropriately during McCain’s speech, appreciative that he wanted unity and reminded us all that we were all Americans.
Then Obama came on stage; the Union erupted! Again, we cried and sang and clapped. To think that we will have our first Black president! That our First Lady, like Hillary was, will be an educated and strong woman, and a woman of color! Hooray! It was a great day.
I’m now excited and tired. My eyes burn from crying. I’m coming down from my high, but my pride and happiness has yet to dissipate.
Congratulations America! Si Se Puede!!!
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Lazy Days in Langkawi
Another wonderful day at sea, and another few minutes to blog and share my story with you all. Again, my undying thanks to you all for indulging me in my writing. And a special thanks to those of you who have posted comments to my blog (that means you Joy!). I love you all.
So, on the third day in Malaysia, Nikki and I took the 7am tender to the pier to catch our 8:30am ferry to Langkawi. Langkawi is said to be a top ten beach destination in the world, which surprised me after my visit. More on that later. We decided to order food in an alleyway where Malaysian workers grab their breakfasts. A man, and probably his wife, were cooking up roti, an eggy bread, that was cooked crepe style, and chicken and onion were thrown in, and it was foled up like a pocket. With that came a little vegetable soup that we drank and dipped our pocket into. We had Indian tea (we were told by Lakshman, the Malaysian man who helped us earlier, when we ordered tea to order “Indian tea”, and that it would be similar to the tea we had in India). The whole meal was perfect. I could feel my heart swell with happiness, and my belly felt warm and full. The tea, hot, milky, and sweet was extraordinary. Joe Chapman, an instructor on board, and his partner Julia joined us at the end, and we chatted about our experiences so far in Malaysia, and we learned that we would be taking the same ferry across. Joe, hospitably, paid for our breakfast and we headed off to our ferry.
After figuring out the ticket situation, we hurried on the ferry for our three-hour trip to Langkawi. Semester at Sea has spoiled me with their ships and boats. They are so elegant and pristine. Even our tender that was hot and sweaty was incredibly clean. As I walked the broken wooden gangplank on to the ferryboat, I realized that I wasn’t on Semester at Sea anymore. It was dirty, rusted over, and as I sat in my ferry seat, I saw a cockroach scuttle across the seat in front of me. Luggage was strewn about, and my backpack that was on the floor was wet. Eek! But aside from this, it was an easy ride over.
More interesting were the passengers. There were certainly Westerners, primarily Semester at Sea passengers, but there were tons of Muslim families with women in full burkas. I have never, ever seen a woman in a burka in real life. It was incredible to me. All I could see was a small sliver above their nose where their eyes shown from under the black material of their burkas. As this was the only parts of their bodies that I could see, aside from their hands, they stood out, stunning and shining. I couldn’t imagine wearing those dark robes, my body hidden from view, my senses stunted. At first I was in awe and shock, then I was angry and frustrated, then confused, and then curious. As a Westerner, I could not imagine covering my body in that way. It was hot and stifling, and wearing long pants and covering my chest and shoulders felt like a chore. And here were women, whether they chose or did not, wearing full-body clothing in black. I laughed at myself for thinking, “How do they vacation?” I was so lucky to see this: a normal life of a woman in an Islamist country. Their husbands played with them. Their children held them. This is real life. Again, how blessed am I?
After a bathroom break (did you know that there are prayer rooms in bathrooms here in Malaysia?), we grabbed a cab and headed to our hotel. I have been to Cabo San Lucas, Miami, and Cozumel. I know what resort towns look like. This was not one of them. It was not developed at all. It looked like a beach village that wanted to develop and thought better of it. The occasional hotel and restaurant would pop up, but more often it was jungle and an open-air cafés filled with locals. I loved it. We arrived at our hotel. Possibly because it catered to a Muslim clientele (it had an Arabic restaurant attached) we were one of the only Westerners, and most women had full burkas, and those who didn’t have headscarves.
It was pouring most of the day, so we headed to lunch, and had Indian food overlooking rice paddies. We then headed to have an Aryvedic massage. But when we arrived, Nikki was very suspicious of the establishment, no Indians there and they were unable to answer her questions. So in the rain we headed out to find another spa. We stopped at the “Thai Spa” and ordered Thai Herbal Massage. They had us go into a room with two tables and asked us to undress. Nikki and I plopped down for our massages. Two small Thai women entered. At first I felt her small hands on my body. Then I felt her straddle me. She was sitting on my behind massaging my back. Though surprised, I decided to take it in stride. It wasn’t as relaxing as anticipated, as the door was open the entire time, but the torrential rain outside calmed me and my muscles felt unburdened and supple.
We were taken back to the hotel, where I slept for a few hours; I was pretty exhausted. Later, Nikki hauled me out of bed and we headed for a night market. The night market mostly consisted of people selling food, both fresh and prepared, with occasional wears such as t-shirts and shoes. As we walked through, fried food and curry leaves filled the air. There were egg rolls, eggy pockets of potato and chicken, chicken satay, soy with syrup, and sauces in plastic baggies for quick take away. It was a delight of the senses. Three legs of beef, with the hooves still on, swung from ropes in the open, hot, and humid air. Tables of fresh vegetables lined the market. Bok choy, parsley, onions, star fruit, dragon fruit, and the smelly durian sat proudly in front of their vendors. It reminded me of the farmers’ markets in Santa Cruz and Austin. I thought how wonderful it is to buy food from the growers rather than a florescent-lighted store. There have been many times when I am reminded how U.S. citizens have been sanitized from life. We have been conditioned to live at arms length from the realities of life. We don’t see the meat that is killed for us. We don’t see sewage running through the streets, it goes off to a plant where we don’t have to deal with it. Etc., etc., etc. This is not to say that I don’t understand and appreciate the need for a hygienic life (let’s remember my issue about not wearing shoes where dogs were defecating). But at time it robs us of our humanity and how we can better appreciate our world, its people, and the environment. Okay, enough of the rant.
We picked up snacks, noodles, eggy pockets, egg rolls, etc. and had that for dinner. A little girl sitting across from me stared at me as if she could not understand someone that looked so different. There were zero Westerners except for us. After we finished up eating, I headed over to a convenience store to see what they had. After grabbing some colored pencils, I saw the candy. Holy Cow! There were bowl and bowls of candy. There were flavors Americans would see as “normal” like, grape, strawberry, chocolate, and orange. But then, there were flavors like: corn, tamarind, sour plum, lychee, black currant, and honey dew. How wonderful is this? I picked up more than 250 pieces, many of them will be used for our Trick or Treat event with the dependent children (i.e. the children of faculty and staff who are school age on this ship). And some may be making it to your mouths later. The ladies behind the counter thought I was crazy and giggled as they counted up the candy.
We headed back to the hotel shortly after the candy episode. Nikki and I both took showers and then combed each other’s hair, gave back massages, and watched a chick flick with Ashley Judd and Hugh Jackman. A great girls’ night.
The next day, after breakfast, we decided to hire a driver to take us around the island. We had anticipated that it would rain like the day before (we were wrong) so we never laid out on the beach. Boo! Instead we went to a craft market, where I went a little crazy on the batik stuff. It was so good! Then we headed out to see a waterfall. Stairs and I do not have a great relationship, and the stone staircase was a little precarious, but I made it to the top. Unfortunately we did not have our bathing suits on and were unable to jump in the water. After climbing down, we grabbed some food (not great ☹) and then headed to the ferry that was delayed. Our ferry ride back was a bit shorter than the former, but this time we had students who were actin’ a fool, which made the experience less than pleasant.
When we landed on shore, Nikki and I decided to call Lakshman since he had asked us to call when we returned. He told us to head for a restaurant in Little India and that he would meet us there. It was already 9pm. We arrived, and were bustled to the second floor, where we were asked to seat with the other Westerners in the restaurant, our friends Amy Lappen (one of the counselors) and Neal (another LLC). We ordered a vegetarian feast, where I supped on palak paneer (I cannot get enough of you!), aloo gobi, mushroom masala, and some tandoori vegetables, and of course, Indian tea and riata. With love, I scooped my food with my fingers, easily the best way of eating. At around 10:30pm Lakshman showed up. We hurried up our meal, he seemed anxious to leave. Nikki was concerned that he would want to hang out after dinner, with good reason, he did. I was exhausted, and nothing, not even offending someone could make me go out that evening. Nikki did, and she has a funny story, but I’ll tell you to go to her blog, and Amy L., Neal, I went home. And I slept.
The next day, I took the 9am tender to head to mass will Bill, Heather, and Brook from the Field Office. We negotiated the bus system (incredibly easy) and arrived at Our Lady of Assumption. Unfortunately, mass had started at 8:30am and the next mass was not for more than an hour. So we had some coffee and hot chocolate, and headed off to the E&O for some brunch. After brunch, I proceeded to take the hot and sticky tender back to the ship, where a water snake attempted to board the ship with us, and so ended my time in Malaysia.
So, on the third day in Malaysia, Nikki and I took the 7am tender to the pier to catch our 8:30am ferry to Langkawi. Langkawi is said to be a top ten beach destination in the world, which surprised me after my visit. More on that later. We decided to order food in an alleyway where Malaysian workers grab their breakfasts. A man, and probably his wife, were cooking up roti, an eggy bread, that was cooked crepe style, and chicken and onion were thrown in, and it was foled up like a pocket. With that came a little vegetable soup that we drank and dipped our pocket into. We had Indian tea (we were told by Lakshman, the Malaysian man who helped us earlier, when we ordered tea to order “Indian tea”, and that it would be similar to the tea we had in India). The whole meal was perfect. I could feel my heart swell with happiness, and my belly felt warm and full. The tea, hot, milky, and sweet was extraordinary. Joe Chapman, an instructor on board, and his partner Julia joined us at the end, and we chatted about our experiences so far in Malaysia, and we learned that we would be taking the same ferry across. Joe, hospitably, paid for our breakfast and we headed off to our ferry.
After figuring out the ticket situation, we hurried on the ferry for our three-hour trip to Langkawi. Semester at Sea has spoiled me with their ships and boats. They are so elegant and pristine. Even our tender that was hot and sweaty was incredibly clean. As I walked the broken wooden gangplank on to the ferryboat, I realized that I wasn’t on Semester at Sea anymore. It was dirty, rusted over, and as I sat in my ferry seat, I saw a cockroach scuttle across the seat in front of me. Luggage was strewn about, and my backpack that was on the floor was wet. Eek! But aside from this, it was an easy ride over.
More interesting were the passengers. There were certainly Westerners, primarily Semester at Sea passengers, but there were tons of Muslim families with women in full burkas. I have never, ever seen a woman in a burka in real life. It was incredible to me. All I could see was a small sliver above their nose where their eyes shown from under the black material of their burkas. As this was the only parts of their bodies that I could see, aside from their hands, they stood out, stunning and shining. I couldn’t imagine wearing those dark robes, my body hidden from view, my senses stunted. At first I was in awe and shock, then I was angry and frustrated, then confused, and then curious. As a Westerner, I could not imagine covering my body in that way. It was hot and stifling, and wearing long pants and covering my chest and shoulders felt like a chore. And here were women, whether they chose or did not, wearing full-body clothing in black. I laughed at myself for thinking, “How do they vacation?” I was so lucky to see this: a normal life of a woman in an Islamist country. Their husbands played with them. Their children held them. This is real life. Again, how blessed am I?
After a bathroom break (did you know that there are prayer rooms in bathrooms here in Malaysia?), we grabbed a cab and headed to our hotel. I have been to Cabo San Lucas, Miami, and Cozumel. I know what resort towns look like. This was not one of them. It was not developed at all. It looked like a beach village that wanted to develop and thought better of it. The occasional hotel and restaurant would pop up, but more often it was jungle and an open-air cafés filled with locals. I loved it. We arrived at our hotel. Possibly because it catered to a Muslim clientele (it had an Arabic restaurant attached) we were one of the only Westerners, and most women had full burkas, and those who didn’t have headscarves.
It was pouring most of the day, so we headed to lunch, and had Indian food overlooking rice paddies. We then headed to have an Aryvedic massage. But when we arrived, Nikki was very suspicious of the establishment, no Indians there and they were unable to answer her questions. So in the rain we headed out to find another spa. We stopped at the “Thai Spa” and ordered Thai Herbal Massage. They had us go into a room with two tables and asked us to undress. Nikki and I plopped down for our massages. Two small Thai women entered. At first I felt her small hands on my body. Then I felt her straddle me. She was sitting on my behind massaging my back. Though surprised, I decided to take it in stride. It wasn’t as relaxing as anticipated, as the door was open the entire time, but the torrential rain outside calmed me and my muscles felt unburdened and supple.
We were taken back to the hotel, where I slept for a few hours; I was pretty exhausted. Later, Nikki hauled me out of bed and we headed for a night market. The night market mostly consisted of people selling food, both fresh and prepared, with occasional wears such as t-shirts and shoes. As we walked through, fried food and curry leaves filled the air. There were egg rolls, eggy pockets of potato and chicken, chicken satay, soy with syrup, and sauces in plastic baggies for quick take away. It was a delight of the senses. Three legs of beef, with the hooves still on, swung from ropes in the open, hot, and humid air. Tables of fresh vegetables lined the market. Bok choy, parsley, onions, star fruit, dragon fruit, and the smelly durian sat proudly in front of their vendors. It reminded me of the farmers’ markets in Santa Cruz and Austin. I thought how wonderful it is to buy food from the growers rather than a florescent-lighted store. There have been many times when I am reminded how U.S. citizens have been sanitized from life. We have been conditioned to live at arms length from the realities of life. We don’t see the meat that is killed for us. We don’t see sewage running through the streets, it goes off to a plant where we don’t have to deal with it. Etc., etc., etc. This is not to say that I don’t understand and appreciate the need for a hygienic life (let’s remember my issue about not wearing shoes where dogs were defecating). But at time it robs us of our humanity and how we can better appreciate our world, its people, and the environment. Okay, enough of the rant.
We picked up snacks, noodles, eggy pockets, egg rolls, etc. and had that for dinner. A little girl sitting across from me stared at me as if she could not understand someone that looked so different. There were zero Westerners except for us. After we finished up eating, I headed over to a convenience store to see what they had. After grabbing some colored pencils, I saw the candy. Holy Cow! There were bowl and bowls of candy. There were flavors Americans would see as “normal” like, grape, strawberry, chocolate, and orange. But then, there were flavors like: corn, tamarind, sour plum, lychee, black currant, and honey dew. How wonderful is this? I picked up more than 250 pieces, many of them will be used for our Trick or Treat event with the dependent children (i.e. the children of faculty and staff who are school age on this ship). And some may be making it to your mouths later. The ladies behind the counter thought I was crazy and giggled as they counted up the candy.
We headed back to the hotel shortly after the candy episode. Nikki and I both took showers and then combed each other’s hair, gave back massages, and watched a chick flick with Ashley Judd and Hugh Jackman. A great girls’ night.
The next day, after breakfast, we decided to hire a driver to take us around the island. We had anticipated that it would rain like the day before (we were wrong) so we never laid out on the beach. Boo! Instead we went to a craft market, where I went a little crazy on the batik stuff. It was so good! Then we headed out to see a waterfall. Stairs and I do not have a great relationship, and the stone staircase was a little precarious, but I made it to the top. Unfortunately we did not have our bathing suits on and were unable to jump in the water. After climbing down, we grabbed some food (not great ☹) and then headed to the ferry that was delayed. Our ferry ride back was a bit shorter than the former, but this time we had students who were actin’ a fool, which made the experience less than pleasant.
When we landed on shore, Nikki and I decided to call Lakshman since he had asked us to call when we returned. He told us to head for a restaurant in Little India and that he would meet us there. It was already 9pm. We arrived, and were bustled to the second floor, where we were asked to seat with the other Westerners in the restaurant, our friends Amy Lappen (one of the counselors) and Neal (another LLC). We ordered a vegetarian feast, where I supped on palak paneer (I cannot get enough of you!), aloo gobi, mushroom masala, and some tandoori vegetables, and of course, Indian tea and riata. With love, I scooped my food with my fingers, easily the best way of eating. At around 10:30pm Lakshman showed up. We hurried up our meal, he seemed anxious to leave. Nikki was concerned that he would want to hang out after dinner, with good reason, he did. I was exhausted, and nothing, not even offending someone could make me go out that evening. Nikki did, and she has a funny story, but I’ll tell you to go to her blog, and Amy L., Neal, I went home. And I slept.
The next day, I took the 9am tender to head to mass will Bill, Heather, and Brook from the Field Office. We negotiated the bus system (incredibly easy) and arrived at Our Lady of Assumption. Unfortunately, mass had started at 8:30am and the next mass was not for more than an hour. So we had some coffee and hot chocolate, and headed off to the E&O for some brunch. After brunch, I proceeded to take the hot and sticky tender back to the ship, where a water snake attempted to board the ship with us, and so ended my time in Malaysia.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
The Monkeys and Me
Gentle Readers:
As time on this journey slips away, the intensity of our voyage picks up. Before, we had long stretches to write, reflect, rest, and recuperate from our last port. Now we move from port to port with two to three days in between. I will do my best to keep up with my blog. And maybe, someday, actually put pictures up. So I beg your pardon and your indulgence.
Malaysia was a country where I had little expectations. It’s sad to admit that I knew little about the country I was going to visit. I had an idea of where it was, near Thailand I thought. I knew that it had a strong Muslim influence. I knew it had been colonized, much like the other countries in the area, by both European and Asian powers. I knew that many cultures lived in the area, with Malay, Indian, and Chinese making up the majority. And names like Penang and Borneo sounded majestic a sense of wonderment filled my heart. But yet, I knew so little. Going to class, talking to the interport student, and even reading about it still left me with a lot of doubt of my own understanding. Countries like India, China, South Africa, Brazil, these countries as Americans, we know if not well, well enough to wrap our heads around them. But smaller countries, with less of an economic and political presence, are left behind and undiscovered. Luckily, I was going to be in this country, allowing its majesty wash over me.
I was up late the night before we arrived and thus I decided to sleep-in instead of watch our entrance into the harbor. When I awoke, we were anchored in the harbor; the piers are not large enough to accommodate our large berth. Our pier was located in Georgetown, the old colonial English part of town. Out in the distance, the modern Penang of high rises sat like pearls on the shore. Unlike when we dock on the pier and we take the gang-plank from the ship to the dock, here we had to be tendered on to land. That is, we are taken in smaller boats (in this case our lifeboats) from the ship to shore. After passing out passports (which were thankfully stamped), I threw on some appropriate clothes (chest covered, pants past my knees, etc.) grabbed a raincoat, and ran to catch the 11am tender. I was helped, okay more like heaved on the boat as it rocked violently in the harbor. Nikki (one of the LLCs) and Brooke (from the Field Office) joined me on the expedition. We had no plan or purpose, and walked along a busy street trying to find a place to have lunch. Interesting note, sidewalks seem to be a Western construction. They barely existed in India, and are barely more visible in Malaysia. No matter, I enjoy walking in the street; must be the Mexican in me.
Brooke finally pulled the map out, anxious to push us in a direction, and we headed towards Little India (Nikki is obsessed with India) and had lunch. Afterward a slightly disappointing lunch (good Indian food, but not great) we walked around the neighborhood admiring the decorations for the festival Deepavali, or Divali the “festival of lights” that starts Monday, a day after we left. We went to a drug store where I bought some conditioner (mine is almost finished, yikes!), and I spied skinning whitening cream (or as they put it, “skin fairing cream”, chew on that normative statement. There where at least six different brands: Light & Lovely, Light & Handsome, Ponds, Olay, etc. It was disgusting and angering. But as your skin color is a demarcation of class (i.e. the darker you are the more likely that you work in the fields, outdoors, manual labor, etc.) having light skin is seen as a virtue.
From there I spied a clothing store and sauntered over. I spent almost no money in India, and really wanted clothes and fabric. In Vietnam, it’s possible to have beautiful clothing made for a fraction of what they would cost in the U.S. I walked over to the wedding saris; they were gorgeous. I almost wish I could get married in that fabric rather than a white wedding dress. There were beautiful reds with gold inlay, bright turquoise with silver inlay, etc. But they all cost about $300, and as much as I wanted it, it was silly to buy them. But, the shopkeepers showed me other sari fabric that was considerably reduced. From this I selected a beautiful purple, with silver and gold trim and decoration. It was gorgeous. I bought it and took it to a tailor next door and will have it ready on Saturday. Even though I'm not Indian, I think it will be beautiful to wear out. It's apparently a very nice sari, one for special occasions, so I'm excited. Later, since I was going to be away from Penang, I sent Brooke out to pick up some red sari material, which again, was absolutely gorgeous. I will be making a dress out of that one.
After my shopping, we headed towards a walking tour in old town Georgetown. On our way we passed some stunning Buddhists temples. In front they had these large incense sticks, taller than me (yes, I know, that's not very tall), at least two inches in diameter. We wandered on and reached the waterfront. Nikki jumped over a rock wall to touch the Indian Ocean for the first time, but couldn't reach it because it would have been too difficult and dangerous. So she settled for some cool pictures. After a short walk we headed to the bank to take out currency when it began to pour rain. We walked to the post office to find that they had closed. I had my raincoat on, but my pants were soaked. We thought about going back to the ship and then returning to meet our friends for dinner, but decided against it and instead took ourselves back to the walking tour. We past the city hall, the town hall, the supreme court, the city museum, and the first Catholic church of the city. We ended the tour at the Eastern & Oriental Hotel, a beautiful British style hotel on the waterfront. After having a quick drink, we headed into the dinner buffet: an Asian feast. I had sashimi, fried ostrich, and egg rolls. But of course, dessert was my favorite course. I had small chocolate brownies, cheesecake, fruit tarts, and a banana dumpling. What a great way to end the day.
The next day, I took the 11am tender for Penang. Brooke and Nikki, and I decided to do a tour of the island. We hired a cab (easily the best thing I have learned to do when visiting a country, hire a driver for the day to take you everywhere, although I do miss the independence of using public transportation) to drive us around the island. He suggested that we go visit two Buddhist temples. The first, was a Thai temple, vibrant in the colors of red, yellow, and blue. We removed our shoes and placed them by a sign that said "beware of shoe thieves!". We took our chances. This temple has the third largest reclining Buddha in the world. It was incredible. The statue’s eyes and toenails were decorated with sea shells and glimmered in the sunlight. We took the obligatory photos and walked around looking at urns of people who died in 1919. One of the men who worked there told me that I was born in the year of the Horse and took me to the Buddha of the Horse. He told me to pray and I put my hands together. Then he said I needed to put my left hand on the Buddha and my right hand on my heart. He helped me, and I'm not sure if he was helping me, or being a creepy old man, because he cupped my breast. I thanked him for his help and then ran off. We then went across the street, literally across the street, to a Burmese temple. We entered an arcade that lead to a seated Buddha. I then went across to another temple with a standing, enormous statue of Buddha. Around the temple was incredible wooden filigree work. Behind the Buddha were 13 Buddha statues from different countries: Burma (Myanmar), Malaysia, Thailand, Korea, Bangladesh, Afghanistan, China, Pakistan, India, Vietnam, Japan, Laos, and Cambodia. I didn’t realize this, but the Buddha has elongated earlobes because when he was a prince he wore extravagant jewelry that elongated his ears.
After this peaceful visit, which included a koi pond. We headed to Penang Hill. It is the tallest summit in the city. We exited of our taxi and entered a jeep. It felt like we went straight up and were glad we made the choice to take the jeep rather than hike. The views from the top were spectacular, and we visited a Hindu temple and sat outside a mosque. Everyday I am blessed at what I get to see. Doesn't this sound amazing? And I didn't know most of this was going to happen. We headed down the hill to stare at some monkeys and walk around the botanical gardens. A bride was taking pictures in the park, and we followed her into the rain forest. Black butterflies six inches across flew speedily from flower. They were both lovely and grotesque. After a quick saunter, we joined our driver who took us to have Malaysian food. As always, the food was incredible. I had a tandoori chicken breast and curry cabbage over rice. An Indian man, named Lakshman, whose family was originally Chennai, helped us in the selection of the food. He was excited to meet us since he was a language teacher in town. He invited us to have him chauffer us around in the evening. Brooke and Nikki planned on meeting him; I could not because I'm on duty. After lunch, we bought postcard stamps and wandered around Chinatown. Nikki got a reflexology massage and then we walked to Little India. I thought about buying sari material, and Brooke offered to buy it for me the next day because I waivered then was upset that I didn't buy it. It’s this gorgeous cherry red silk with a silver inlay, so wonderful.
In my next post I’ll talk about my two days in Langkawi and my final day in Malaysia. Right now we are going through the Straits of Malaca, on our way to Vietnam. It’s a pirate area, so we are currently on “pirate watch” which is exciting. Additionally, there have been hundreds of ships and boats on the water with us, which is incredible. Usually we’re by ourselves, and to see others is pretty amazing.
Hope you all are well!
Much Love
Angelica
As time on this journey slips away, the intensity of our voyage picks up. Before, we had long stretches to write, reflect, rest, and recuperate from our last port. Now we move from port to port with two to three days in between. I will do my best to keep up with my blog. And maybe, someday, actually put pictures up. So I beg your pardon and your indulgence.
Malaysia was a country where I had little expectations. It’s sad to admit that I knew little about the country I was going to visit. I had an idea of where it was, near Thailand I thought. I knew that it had a strong Muslim influence. I knew it had been colonized, much like the other countries in the area, by both European and Asian powers. I knew that many cultures lived in the area, with Malay, Indian, and Chinese making up the majority. And names like Penang and Borneo sounded majestic a sense of wonderment filled my heart. But yet, I knew so little. Going to class, talking to the interport student, and even reading about it still left me with a lot of doubt of my own understanding. Countries like India, China, South Africa, Brazil, these countries as Americans, we know if not well, well enough to wrap our heads around them. But smaller countries, with less of an economic and political presence, are left behind and undiscovered. Luckily, I was going to be in this country, allowing its majesty wash over me.
I was up late the night before we arrived and thus I decided to sleep-in instead of watch our entrance into the harbor. When I awoke, we were anchored in the harbor; the piers are not large enough to accommodate our large berth. Our pier was located in Georgetown, the old colonial English part of town. Out in the distance, the modern Penang of high rises sat like pearls on the shore. Unlike when we dock on the pier and we take the gang-plank from the ship to the dock, here we had to be tendered on to land. That is, we are taken in smaller boats (in this case our lifeboats) from the ship to shore. After passing out passports (which were thankfully stamped), I threw on some appropriate clothes (chest covered, pants past my knees, etc.) grabbed a raincoat, and ran to catch the 11am tender. I was helped, okay more like heaved on the boat as it rocked violently in the harbor. Nikki (one of the LLCs) and Brooke (from the Field Office) joined me on the expedition. We had no plan or purpose, and walked along a busy street trying to find a place to have lunch. Interesting note, sidewalks seem to be a Western construction. They barely existed in India, and are barely more visible in Malaysia. No matter, I enjoy walking in the street; must be the Mexican in me.
Brooke finally pulled the map out, anxious to push us in a direction, and we headed towards Little India (Nikki is obsessed with India) and had lunch. Afterward a slightly disappointing lunch (good Indian food, but not great) we walked around the neighborhood admiring the decorations for the festival Deepavali, or Divali the “festival of lights” that starts Monday, a day after we left. We went to a drug store where I bought some conditioner (mine is almost finished, yikes!), and I spied skinning whitening cream (or as they put it, “skin fairing cream”, chew on that normative statement. There where at least six different brands: Light & Lovely, Light & Handsome, Ponds, Olay, etc. It was disgusting and angering. But as your skin color is a demarcation of class (i.e. the darker you are the more likely that you work in the fields, outdoors, manual labor, etc.) having light skin is seen as a virtue.
From there I spied a clothing store and sauntered over. I spent almost no money in India, and really wanted clothes and fabric. In Vietnam, it’s possible to have beautiful clothing made for a fraction of what they would cost in the U.S. I walked over to the wedding saris; they were gorgeous. I almost wish I could get married in that fabric rather than a white wedding dress. There were beautiful reds with gold inlay, bright turquoise with silver inlay, etc. But they all cost about $300, and as much as I wanted it, it was silly to buy them. But, the shopkeepers showed me other sari fabric that was considerably reduced. From this I selected a beautiful purple, with silver and gold trim and decoration. It was gorgeous. I bought it and took it to a tailor next door and will have it ready on Saturday. Even though I'm not Indian, I think it will be beautiful to wear out. It's apparently a very nice sari, one for special occasions, so I'm excited. Later, since I was going to be away from Penang, I sent Brooke out to pick up some red sari material, which again, was absolutely gorgeous. I will be making a dress out of that one.
After my shopping, we headed towards a walking tour in old town Georgetown. On our way we passed some stunning Buddhists temples. In front they had these large incense sticks, taller than me (yes, I know, that's not very tall), at least two inches in diameter. We wandered on and reached the waterfront. Nikki jumped over a rock wall to touch the Indian Ocean for the first time, but couldn't reach it because it would have been too difficult and dangerous. So she settled for some cool pictures. After a short walk we headed to the bank to take out currency when it began to pour rain. We walked to the post office to find that they had closed. I had my raincoat on, but my pants were soaked. We thought about going back to the ship and then returning to meet our friends for dinner, but decided against it and instead took ourselves back to the walking tour. We past the city hall, the town hall, the supreme court, the city museum, and the first Catholic church of the city. We ended the tour at the Eastern & Oriental Hotel, a beautiful British style hotel on the waterfront. After having a quick drink, we headed into the dinner buffet: an Asian feast. I had sashimi, fried ostrich, and egg rolls. But of course, dessert was my favorite course. I had small chocolate brownies, cheesecake, fruit tarts, and a banana dumpling. What a great way to end the day.
The next day, I took the 11am tender for Penang. Brooke and Nikki, and I decided to do a tour of the island. We hired a cab (easily the best thing I have learned to do when visiting a country, hire a driver for the day to take you everywhere, although I do miss the independence of using public transportation) to drive us around the island. He suggested that we go visit two Buddhist temples. The first, was a Thai temple, vibrant in the colors of red, yellow, and blue. We removed our shoes and placed them by a sign that said "beware of shoe thieves!". We took our chances. This temple has the third largest reclining Buddha in the world. It was incredible. The statue’s eyes and toenails were decorated with sea shells and glimmered in the sunlight. We took the obligatory photos and walked around looking at urns of people who died in 1919. One of the men who worked there told me that I was born in the year of the Horse and took me to the Buddha of the Horse. He told me to pray and I put my hands together. Then he said I needed to put my left hand on the Buddha and my right hand on my heart. He helped me, and I'm not sure if he was helping me, or being a creepy old man, because he cupped my breast. I thanked him for his help and then ran off. We then went across the street, literally across the street, to a Burmese temple. We entered an arcade that lead to a seated Buddha. I then went across to another temple with a standing, enormous statue of Buddha. Around the temple was incredible wooden filigree work. Behind the Buddha were 13 Buddha statues from different countries: Burma (Myanmar), Malaysia, Thailand, Korea, Bangladesh, Afghanistan, China, Pakistan, India, Vietnam, Japan, Laos, and Cambodia. I didn’t realize this, but the Buddha has elongated earlobes because when he was a prince he wore extravagant jewelry that elongated his ears.
After this peaceful visit, which included a koi pond. We headed to Penang Hill. It is the tallest summit in the city. We exited of our taxi and entered a jeep. It felt like we went straight up and were glad we made the choice to take the jeep rather than hike. The views from the top were spectacular, and we visited a Hindu temple and sat outside a mosque. Everyday I am blessed at what I get to see. Doesn't this sound amazing? And I didn't know most of this was going to happen. We headed down the hill to stare at some monkeys and walk around the botanical gardens. A bride was taking pictures in the park, and we followed her into the rain forest. Black butterflies six inches across flew speedily from flower. They were both lovely and grotesque. After a quick saunter, we joined our driver who took us to have Malaysian food. As always, the food was incredible. I had a tandoori chicken breast and curry cabbage over rice. An Indian man, named Lakshman, whose family was originally Chennai, helped us in the selection of the food. He was excited to meet us since he was a language teacher in town. He invited us to have him chauffer us around in the evening. Brooke and Nikki planned on meeting him; I could not because I'm on duty. After lunch, we bought postcard stamps and wandered around Chinatown. Nikki got a reflexology massage and then we walked to Little India. I thought about buying sari material, and Brooke offered to buy it for me the next day because I waivered then was upset that I didn't buy it. It’s this gorgeous cherry red silk with a silver inlay, so wonderful.
In my next post I’ll talk about my two days in Langkawi and my final day in Malaysia. Right now we are going through the Straits of Malaca, on our way to Vietnam. It’s a pirate area, so we are currently on “pirate watch” which is exciting. Additionally, there have been hundreds of ships and boats on the water with us, which is incredible. Usually we’re by ourselves, and to see others is pretty amazing.
Hope you all are well!
Much Love
Angelica
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Meeting God in India
“Love that is not madness is not love.” -- Pedro Calderon de la Barca
It’s the night of my second day in Malaysia and I’m on duty. So, I’m hanging out on the ship, which is a-okay with me. My foot is tired, so I’m laying on my bed with my foot up. I just had some short conversations with people at home, and feel content and happy. So I’m going to write my last blog for Chennai, India.
I had arrived especially early on the second to last day in Chennai, and there was no way I was getting up before 10am. I hauled myself out of bed to meet up with the Amys and Nikki for a day of shopping. After a late start, we grabbed a small van (and I mean small) we headed out for lunch. During our diplomatic briefing, the U.S. diplomats stated that a great place to have a meal would be at a Taj hotel. So we headed over, with reminders from Amy Lappen (one of the counselors) not to have high expectations since she had had dinner at a “hotel” a few nights before. But when we entered the hotel, we had no illusions that we were at a really nice place. It was a gorgeous hotel, beautiful restaurant, and very nice toilets. We had fried wontons, samosas, and a selection of breads for an appetizer. We had a curry, palak paneer, and a charcoal chicken dish for our mains. It was all okay, except the charcoal chicken which was on the best dishes I had in India (which you wouldn’t have expected because it came out BLACK. But it was great!), and we were reminded that the best food comes from roadside stands, not fancy restaurants. After a long lunch, we piled back into the van, and danced to modern Indian music with our driver Raj. All around Chennai, we kept seeing billboards and other advertisements with this same chubby, mustached man. We learned that he had been a Bollywood (Hindi movie industry larger than Hollywood) movie star and was campaigning to be governor. The place was going nuts. Raj took us to the Pondy Bazaar, where we picked up cheap items like bangles, grocery bags, and after being followed for over an hour a drum. We couldn’t stay too late, because we had to meet others for dinner: me with Cindy and her husband Jim and Nikki and Amy Lappen with Nikki’s pen-pal Annan.
I changed, found Cindy and Jim, and we grabbed a cab to a restaurant recommended by one of the interport students. After some drinks in the bar, we headed upstairs to have dinner. I had my own bowl of riata (still the best dish ever made, in the whole wide world), some chicken tikka masala, naan, and rice. Again, life could not have been better. We were the only Westerners in the joint, and around 9pm many Indian families started pouring in. It was a great atmosphere, matched by the quality of the food. Again, the meal conversation was populated by comments about food, the current dishes and other favorites. I stated that my mother’s papas con weenies was easily the best dish (outside of riata) Jim thought that his “white meal” of potatoes, cheese, cream, and other white ingredients was the best. After we finished our meal, we headed out to the discothèque.
Neal (one the LLCs) and I want to do an around the world best discothèques. After our Cape de Cuba night, we decided that we would start in Miami, then to Ibiza, St. Petersburg, Dubai, Narobi, and then Macau. Who knew that we would add Chennai to the list? We met Amy L, Neal, Nikki, her friend Annan, and one of his friends (whose name escapes me) at Pasha at the Park hotel. It was a very exclusive club, with a $20 cover charge, and we couldn’t bring our cameras in. As the only Westerners, we decided to get up and dance around, much to the delight of Annan. After a while, more Indians joined us and the place was rocking. Unfortunately, a creepy guy, dubbed “The Creeper”, fixated on me and tried to dance provocatively with me. I kept trying to move to the inner circle, and get behind someone to shield myself from him, but it went on for two hours. On the ship, there’s a student named Mason, who “creeps” people. That is, a move where he bends over, has one leg askew, slackens one arm, shakes his shoulder, and gives you a dirty look. It’s fantastic! So, whenever this guy came up to me, Amy and Nikki would give him the creep. Annan was beside himself with laughter. Soon the dance floor was packed and the witching-hour of midnight creped up to us. I was exhausted and was excited to go home. As we walked out, two very beautiful and handsomely dressed women in Western clothing passed us. Annan’s friend became very excited and agitated. Apparently they were famous movie stars.
We were shuffled into a rickshaw that drove us back to the ship. The city was quiet: it was 12:30am. As we drove back, we saw the sidewalks filled with people sleeping. Line after line of people sleeping on the sidewalks, dirt, and streets. It was silent, Amy and Neal were also exhausted, and the general chaos of the daytime was gone. All I saw was the rawness of poverty. The juxtaposition of being at a very posh upscale club, to seeing the reality of destitute poverty was angering, frustrating, and guilt inducing. I was quiet with shock, my chest felt tight, and I held back the tears that were welling up in my eyes. Poverty in India is a poverty that cannot be explained. It is pervasive and shockingly present in everyday life. That was my last impression of Chennai that day, and I sat on my bed (after waiting behind three Taj trips that had just arrived and an acid rain that fell and lifted up the oil and muck off the pier) thinking about the surreality of my time in Chennai.
The next day, again bright and early, I joined Brooke Cashman (from the Field Office) to mass at the St. Thomas Cathedral. St. Thomas, the Doubter who said “My Lord My God”, traveled to India and was martyred in Chennai. The St. Thomas Cathedral is one of only three churches in the world to be built on the tomb of an apostle of Jesus: St. Peter’s Basilica at the Vatican and the Cathedral of Santiago (St. James) de Compostela in Spain. I’ve been blessed to have attended mass in many countries, Mexico, Canada, Italy (at the Vatican), Germany, France, Holland, Spain, and Namibia. I added India to this list. All countries have their own flavor to the mass, making it a place for the people. After visiting the cathedral and the museum, we went down to the tomb. Mass, in Tamil (the language used in Chennai) started shortly after we arrived. Brooke wanted to sit on the left side of the chapel, but I moved her to the left after I noticed that only men were sitting on the left and women populated the right. In India, often men sit in a different location than women. The entire mass was in Tamil, but as Catholics follow a proscribed Order of the Mass, it was easy to follow and participate in prayers. I had my missal and perused the readings. When the “Peace Be With You” came up, instead of shaking hands (a Western ritual) we instead put our hands together near our chest and bowed and said peace. At the end of mass, we were anointed with oil, and it was waxy and had a distinctive coconut smell. How wonderfully Indian. The priest came to speak to us after mass, and informed us that he use to teach at Georgetown, where Brooke currently works. Some high school students came up to us to talk to us and we exchanged emails and chatted about our experience in India.
We grabbed a rickshaw back to the ship and due to the political rally for the aforementioned movie star turned politician (we were reminded of our own history when Indians told us, “you know like Regan and Swarzenegger”) I was not able to do any shopping. So, in total, I spent $40 in India. Isn’t that insane?! I remind people that this means that the people who live in this country are poor, and how “wonderful” it might be for us to not have to spend a lot of money on objects, that it’s still A LOT of money to the inhabitants of the country. That doesn’t always go over well.
Well, that was my time in India. It was overwhelming and amazing; tragic and transcendental. I was reminded of Pedro Calderon de la Barca’s quote: “Love that is not madness is not love” and I believe that India is the embodiment of this quote. It was madness, the chaotic life on the streets, the horns honking every second, the abundance of people, the poverty, the colors of saris, of the kindness of every single person, of the early mornings and late evenings, it was all madness. But it was also love, pure, unadulterated, immense, and overwhelming, it was love. India, you wanted to wash it off, and let if wash over you. No port made such an impression. Two days ago the Assistant Executive Dean, Bob, read a speech where he compared the journey in India to the travels of Odysseus: of his trials and tribulations and finally coming back to his home, naked. And at the end Bob wept from the sheer emotion of being in such a tough and beautiful country. How could that country not make you cry? Exhaustion, the number of people, and the grime made you in raw. Only at this point, like Odysseus, could we learn and be reborn. How very apropos for a country of Hindus and reincarnation…
It’s the night of my second day in Malaysia and I’m on duty. So, I’m hanging out on the ship, which is a-okay with me. My foot is tired, so I’m laying on my bed with my foot up. I just had some short conversations with people at home, and feel content and happy. So I’m going to write my last blog for Chennai, India.
I had arrived especially early on the second to last day in Chennai, and there was no way I was getting up before 10am. I hauled myself out of bed to meet up with the Amys and Nikki for a day of shopping. After a late start, we grabbed a small van (and I mean small) we headed out for lunch. During our diplomatic briefing, the U.S. diplomats stated that a great place to have a meal would be at a Taj hotel. So we headed over, with reminders from Amy Lappen (one of the counselors) not to have high expectations since she had had dinner at a “hotel” a few nights before. But when we entered the hotel, we had no illusions that we were at a really nice place. It was a gorgeous hotel, beautiful restaurant, and very nice toilets. We had fried wontons, samosas, and a selection of breads for an appetizer. We had a curry, palak paneer, and a charcoal chicken dish for our mains. It was all okay, except the charcoal chicken which was on the best dishes I had in India (which you wouldn’t have expected because it came out BLACK. But it was great!), and we were reminded that the best food comes from roadside stands, not fancy restaurants. After a long lunch, we piled back into the van, and danced to modern Indian music with our driver Raj. All around Chennai, we kept seeing billboards and other advertisements with this same chubby, mustached man. We learned that he had been a Bollywood (Hindi movie industry larger than Hollywood) movie star and was campaigning to be governor. The place was going nuts. Raj took us to the Pondy Bazaar, where we picked up cheap items like bangles, grocery bags, and after being followed for over an hour a drum. We couldn’t stay too late, because we had to meet others for dinner: me with Cindy and her husband Jim and Nikki and Amy Lappen with Nikki’s pen-pal Annan.
I changed, found Cindy and Jim, and we grabbed a cab to a restaurant recommended by one of the interport students. After some drinks in the bar, we headed upstairs to have dinner. I had my own bowl of riata (still the best dish ever made, in the whole wide world), some chicken tikka masala, naan, and rice. Again, life could not have been better. We were the only Westerners in the joint, and around 9pm many Indian families started pouring in. It was a great atmosphere, matched by the quality of the food. Again, the meal conversation was populated by comments about food, the current dishes and other favorites. I stated that my mother’s papas con weenies was easily the best dish (outside of riata) Jim thought that his “white meal” of potatoes, cheese, cream, and other white ingredients was the best. After we finished our meal, we headed out to the discothèque.
Neal (one the LLCs) and I want to do an around the world best discothèques. After our Cape de Cuba night, we decided that we would start in Miami, then to Ibiza, St. Petersburg, Dubai, Narobi, and then Macau. Who knew that we would add Chennai to the list? We met Amy L, Neal, Nikki, her friend Annan, and one of his friends (whose name escapes me) at Pasha at the Park hotel. It was a very exclusive club, with a $20 cover charge, and we couldn’t bring our cameras in. As the only Westerners, we decided to get up and dance around, much to the delight of Annan. After a while, more Indians joined us and the place was rocking. Unfortunately, a creepy guy, dubbed “The Creeper”, fixated on me and tried to dance provocatively with me. I kept trying to move to the inner circle, and get behind someone to shield myself from him, but it went on for two hours. On the ship, there’s a student named Mason, who “creeps” people. That is, a move where he bends over, has one leg askew, slackens one arm, shakes his shoulder, and gives you a dirty look. It’s fantastic! So, whenever this guy came up to me, Amy and Nikki would give him the creep. Annan was beside himself with laughter. Soon the dance floor was packed and the witching-hour of midnight creped up to us. I was exhausted and was excited to go home. As we walked out, two very beautiful and handsomely dressed women in Western clothing passed us. Annan’s friend became very excited and agitated. Apparently they were famous movie stars.
We were shuffled into a rickshaw that drove us back to the ship. The city was quiet: it was 12:30am. As we drove back, we saw the sidewalks filled with people sleeping. Line after line of people sleeping on the sidewalks, dirt, and streets. It was silent, Amy and Neal were also exhausted, and the general chaos of the daytime was gone. All I saw was the rawness of poverty. The juxtaposition of being at a very posh upscale club, to seeing the reality of destitute poverty was angering, frustrating, and guilt inducing. I was quiet with shock, my chest felt tight, and I held back the tears that were welling up in my eyes. Poverty in India is a poverty that cannot be explained. It is pervasive and shockingly present in everyday life. That was my last impression of Chennai that day, and I sat on my bed (after waiting behind three Taj trips that had just arrived and an acid rain that fell and lifted up the oil and muck off the pier) thinking about the surreality of my time in Chennai.
The next day, again bright and early, I joined Brooke Cashman (from the Field Office) to mass at the St. Thomas Cathedral. St. Thomas, the Doubter who said “My Lord My God”, traveled to India and was martyred in Chennai. The St. Thomas Cathedral is one of only three churches in the world to be built on the tomb of an apostle of Jesus: St. Peter’s Basilica at the Vatican and the Cathedral of Santiago (St. James) de Compostela in Spain. I’ve been blessed to have attended mass in many countries, Mexico, Canada, Italy (at the Vatican), Germany, France, Holland, Spain, and Namibia. I added India to this list. All countries have their own flavor to the mass, making it a place for the people. After visiting the cathedral and the museum, we went down to the tomb. Mass, in Tamil (the language used in Chennai) started shortly after we arrived. Brooke wanted to sit on the left side of the chapel, but I moved her to the left after I noticed that only men were sitting on the left and women populated the right. In India, often men sit in a different location than women. The entire mass was in Tamil, but as Catholics follow a proscribed Order of the Mass, it was easy to follow and participate in prayers. I had my missal and perused the readings. When the “Peace Be With You” came up, instead of shaking hands (a Western ritual) we instead put our hands together near our chest and bowed and said peace. At the end of mass, we were anointed with oil, and it was waxy and had a distinctive coconut smell. How wonderfully Indian. The priest came to speak to us after mass, and informed us that he use to teach at Georgetown, where Brooke currently works. Some high school students came up to us to talk to us and we exchanged emails and chatted about our experience in India.
We grabbed a rickshaw back to the ship and due to the political rally for the aforementioned movie star turned politician (we were reminded of our own history when Indians told us, “you know like Regan and Swarzenegger”) I was not able to do any shopping. So, in total, I spent $40 in India. Isn’t that insane?! I remind people that this means that the people who live in this country are poor, and how “wonderful” it might be for us to not have to spend a lot of money on objects, that it’s still A LOT of money to the inhabitants of the country. That doesn’t always go over well.
Well, that was my time in India. It was overwhelming and amazing; tragic and transcendental. I was reminded of Pedro Calderon de la Barca’s quote: “Love that is not madness is not love” and I believe that India is the embodiment of this quote. It was madness, the chaotic life on the streets, the horns honking every second, the abundance of people, the poverty, the colors of saris, of the kindness of every single person, of the early mornings and late evenings, it was all madness. But it was also love, pure, unadulterated, immense, and overwhelming, it was love. India, you wanted to wash it off, and let if wash over you. No port made such an impression. Two days ago the Assistant Executive Dean, Bob, read a speech where he compared the journey in India to the travels of Odysseus: of his trials and tribulations and finally coming back to his home, naked. And at the end Bob wept from the sheer emotion of being in such a tough and beautiful country. How could that country not make you cry? Exhaustion, the number of people, and the grime made you in raw. Only at this point, like Odysseus, could we learn and be reborn. How very apropos for a country of Hindus and reincarnation…
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