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
Monday, November 24, 2008
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!!!
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