Atlantic Crossing - Day 3 (the equator)

Day three of our Atlantic crossing is over.  It after midnight and I am up watching the CruiseShow channel on the TV in my cabin.  This is the channel that shows our ship's current location along with weather, sunrise and sunset times, and our longitude and latitude.  For the past few hours, while I have sat here working on homework the latitude has slowly been counting down.  Sometime around 1:00AM (in whatever timezone we are actually in) we will cross the equator.   I will send this post shortly after we do.    

The CruiseShow is not a silent one.  It also broadcasts music which pulls from nearly every genre of the past four decades.  The past three songs have been Stairway to Heaven, Red, Red Wine and Personal Jesus. I am very curious what will be playing when we cross the equator.

While we had not yet crossed The Line, today was Neptune Day on the ship.  I was awoken at 7:30 AM by drums, yelling and banging on doors.   Being on deck three we were the lucky ones to be given the wakeup call first; upper decks received an extra 15 minutes or so of sleep.  I was not in the least bit happy about this and was rather grumpy through breakfast.

However, eventually caffeine took effect and, while I genuinely dislike appearing publicly in a bathing suit, I donned mine and made my way to deck nine where King Neptune, who bore a remarkable resemblance to our ship's captain, was holding court.  Those of us who had not crossed the equator before, students, faculty, staff and lifelong learners, swore our allegiance to all things sea dwelling and one by one had some sort of green goo poured over our heads, swam the saltwater pool, kissed a fish (some kissed two) and the rings of King and Queen Neptune and were then dubbed "shellbacks."  Several folks also had their heads shaved…I did not feel the need.

(I showered and disinfected my lips immediately after)

I admit that initially I gave very serious consideration to hiding in my cabin and sleeping but in the end I'm glad I joined in the fun.  It also turned out today was Taco Day.  I'm not sure if these two momentous occasions usually occur on the same day but if not, it was a nice bonus.

Aaaaaaand we've officially crossed the equator!  The song that was playing was some autotuned thing I didn't recognize followed by The Eagles, Desperado, which I'm going to pretend I didn't hear.  

Good night everyone.  I'll post again later today (or tomorrow depending upon you time zone!)

Atlantic Crossing - Day 2

06 degrees 16.74 minutes north
023 degrees 33.91 minutes W

I am posting a bit early today as there are festivities this evening.  A belated Halloween costume dance,  I'm going as a haunted mime or a ghostly carny...or something like that. 

I am enjoying crossing the Atlantic thus far.  It reminds me a bit of being in the desert, where you can see for miles and miles.  This morning I watched the sunrise turn distant storm clouds pink.  I stood on deck nine forward just watching the swells and enjoying the movement of the ship. I'm pretty sure it actually made the coffee taste better.

Shortly after my drum practice this afternoon I saw flying fish.  They have to be one of the strangest creatures I've ever seen.  These are larger than the ones we saw off the coast of Africa and they 'fly' much further distances out of the water.  We often see dolphins when they are near but I saw none today.  I've yet to see a whale but I've been told that that may be more likely as we near the coast of South America.

I am attempting to attach a photo to this post.  I believe I made it small enough to send.  This is the spot on deck seven where I go to practice, to read or to just get away form the other 649 people on this ship.  Out side of the crew, no one comes here other than me or at least I've never seen anyone other than crew here.  You can't lay in the sun and there are no chairs or tables.  It is one of the few peaceful locations on board. I may be jinxing myself but I really hope it stays that way.

Thus far the majority of my favorite moments has been while we are at sea.  I love being on the ocean.  I sleep better when we are not in port.  Even when the weather is rough, which thankfully has not been much beyond the first few days when we were in the midst of a storm, I'd often rather be here than on land.  I understand the appeal of living on board a boat...learning to sail will be even higher on my list now. 

Atlantic Crossing - Day 1

09 degrees 19.46 minutes N
021 degrees 19.02 minutes W

It is 28 degree Celsius with 84% humidity and our air conditioning is undergoing maintenance. The air in my cabin is sticky and uncomfortable. Sleeping is proving difficult and so I am awake at midnight, writing a blog post. 

Our first day of our crossing was fairly uneventful.  We had wind of about 9kts and seas with 2 foot swells.  Which is still enough to add some sway to the deck but most of us have our sea legs and other than the occasional mild stumble, we do just fine.   Due to the heat and humidity, which was even higher most of the day, I stayed inside where it was (with the exception of my cabin) much cooler.

This evening was the first Semester at Sea coffee house held in the Lily Marlene lounge.  Students packed the house to the point where those of us performing had to step over bodies to make our way to the stage.  I presented two spoken word pieces, Don't Take it Personally and Roses, neither of which I'd shared publicly before and both of which were very well received.  Students presented songs, poems, comedy improve and visual art work.  There is some pretty amazing talent on the ship.  I am looking forward to the next one.

Tomorrow I will rise early to watch the sunrise. I try to do this whenever we are at sea.  This morning it was obscured by clouds, but I had some writing to do for a class so I was not too let down.

Our crossing of the equator is in two days. We have the day off from classes and there are celebrations of some kind, though it has not been made overly clear just what those celebrations entail - though I know some folks will be shaving their head.  They call it Neptune day...

I'll be heading to bed now with hopes that the air conditioning will be fixed sometime tomorrow.

Good night. 

Senegal

"Our tour guide told us that tourism here was huge until ebola and then the whole industry just collapsed.  Hotels closed, cruise ships stopped coming…it just died." - SAS student

Ebola.  During the entire ebola crisis Senegal had one case.  It was an airline passenger who had contracted the disease while visiting another country.  Senegal has not had a single case of ebola that originated within its borders and yet, thanks to the sensationalism of the international news media and a general worldwide ignorance of geography, its once growing tourism industry slowed to almost nothing.   

Dakar is full of empty hotels, abandoned information booths and postcards stands stocked with yellowing pictures of brightly dressed women and peaceful beaches.   It is not, however, quiet.  Dakar does not stop.  The streets are rivers of taxis and people; the sidewalks are more often than not used as parking spaces.  Even at night, when the streets are dark, quite literally as it seems at least half of the street lights do not work, people are moving about, everyone has some place to go or to be.

On our first ventures into the city we were met with aggressive "tour guides" and taxi drivers.  When we made our way into the city we were followed by people asking for money, or pushing sunglasses, CDs, candy, anything we might possibly buy in front of us.   It was overwhelming to many, and to some frightening.  The first evening in port is usually rather quiet as people head off on overnight trips or out for a dinner off ship, but that night the dining room was more full than I'd yet seen while we were in port.

I had experienced the pushiness of vendors in the markets of Casablanca and Marrakech, but there I was one tourist among thousands of others.  If I said no or walked past a vendor's stall they quickly turned their attention to the next person.  Here though tourists are few and sellers seem loath to let you walk away. 

Had my visit been restricted only to Dakar I'd have left Senegal with a sad and poor impression of the country.  Outside of the city though, things are quieter, slower.  Village markets are full of food stands rather than items meant to appeal to tourists, though in the places where visitors are likely to spend time, you will find vendors with baskets of bracelets, dresses and sand paintings seem to materialize out of the heavy, humid air. 

My journey outside of the city was to visit a Benedictine monastery in Keur Moussa.  Here 30 monks from Senegal, Guinea, Mali and France live, tend a large and prosperous orchard and engage in religious contemplation and meditation.  It is a peaceful place, even the heat and humidity seemed to be calmer here .  There were no honking horns or yelling.  Instead the air was filled with non-stop bird song; cooing, chirping, tweeting and whistling from every tree and bush. 

Brother John Paul guided us through the orchards filled with grapefruit, lime, lemon and mandarin trees as well as cashews and tamarind.  The monks make wine and an array of preserves that are sold in their small store.  Alas due to ship restrictions I was not able to purchase any of these to bring home with me; grapefruit marmalade is a wonderful thing and should anyone find a source at home I'd be very grateful.

While the orchards were lovely what I had come for was attend Sunday mass, or rather the music of Sunday mass.  Instead of an organ or piano the monks play the kora, tam-tam (djembe) and other drums for the accompaniment.  The experience of the mass, with the monks singing, the delicate notes of the kora and the steady beat of the drums is something I am not sure I can adequately describe.  It was music made of light, if light had a sound.  It was transportive, as I suppose spiritual music is meant to be; I felt lifted into the moment.  All else, the heat, my worries about this journey, were set aside and there was just this chapel and the music.  I left feeling very grateful that I'd chosen to come here, not just due to the music, but also to see a different face of this country.

Senegal was the first port that was a challenge for me.  All of the other places we have stopped seemed focused on making tourists as comfortable as possible, catering to the needs and whims of their visitors.  Senegal, with all of its contradictions and contrasts, was different.  It was not comfortable or easy; there was no cozy cruise terminal with wifi and coffee, few street signs and little guidance in English.  Air conditioning was nearly unheard of.  I have yet to figure out where the post office actually is let alone how to mail a post card.  I admit that after our first day here I thought I'd never want to come back.  Now, on the last day as I write this, I find that my curiosity is raised and I am adding Senegal to the list of places I'd like to explore more.

Tonight we leave for Brazil.  We will be at sea for seven days.   When my feet again touch land l will have crossed the equator for the first time.  I will be looking up to gaze upon a sky filled with different stars.  I will also have passed the midpoint of this journey.

I was not able to find reliable Wi-Fi in this port.  This should be a bit easier in Brazil.  I will share photos, update Twitter and FaceBook and catch up on email.  Thank you for reading.

Time for an update...

Tonight I am suffering from major writer's block.  I've three pieces of writing going: my Free Press column, an entry in my travel journal and this blog post.  I've started each numerous times and have yet to successfully finish one.   Words generally flow easily for me and when they do not it's unbelievably frustrating. 

I've tried my usual tricks:

1. Get up and walk away, in this case to get hot water for tea, come back.  (Fail)

2. Go do something slightly mind numbing but enjoyable – so I watched the big cranes move shipping containers around for a half hour or so.  (Fail)

3. Vent to a friend via iMessage, try chatting about any old thing to get my brain going. (yep…fail again)

4. Go back to my cabin and write about how I'm struggling terribly with said writer's block. (End up with half a page)

Things are mostly good.  Two days ago we left the Mediterranean and crossed back into the Atlantic, which left me with feelings of both coming home and realizing just how far away from home I really am.  Currently we are docked in Morocco and I'm a bit overwhelmed with just how different this place is from anywhere I've ever been.  Europe was new, yes, but still filled with so many things familiar; language, food, and some similarities of culture. 

Here though are sounds, sights and tastes I've never encountered before – or at least not within the context of this place.  I have eaten couscous many times, but never served from a steaming tagine, with lamb and an array of local Moroccan vegetables piled high atop it.  I have visited outdoor markets before, but these markets are filled with the powerful scents of mint and sweet figs that remind me of warmed maple syrup.  I have certainly never sipped mint tea quite as strong or as sweet as what is served here (something I've still not 100% made up my mind about as to whether or not I like it).  And today I heard the music of the Gnawa, the deep strum of the guembri and the rhythmic clacka-clack of the krakeb.

And all this in only the past 48 hours…

Tomorrow I will take a train to Marrakech.  I'll spend the night so that I can experience the night market, something many have told me is not to be missed.  I am eager for more music, more dancing, more food and whatever new there is to encounter.  It almost seems too much…

And perhaps that is the cause of my writer's block.  There is so much new that I have encountered.  My mind simply needs time to sift through it all. 

Italy: Lemon Gelato

Note:  I wrote this for my travel writing class.  I thought I'd share it here too. 
 

I wanted to have A Moment.  Yes, the capital letters are intentional.  I wanted to have one of those eye opening, heart filling, Oh-My-God this is the best…pizza, wine, view, walk, church, work of art ever…moments.  I wanted to experience something truly profound that would sum up my visit to Italy in one neat, deeply moving little package.

                Instead, I had lots of little, Oh-isn't-this-nice moments.

                Isn't this a nice pizza?

                Isn't this a nice wine?

                Isn't this a nice view and look at that really nice, really old wall?

                Perhaps it was because I was one the lookout for such a moment that it did not occur, or maybe I was distracted by my lingering sense of homesickness, or my worry that there must be something back at home that I forgot to take care of before I left, or maybe it's because I'm 43 and I've lost my sense of wonder, but truly I cannot lay the blame on any of these things.  I can only blame one thing, I blame the lemon gelato.

                It was just one scoop of gelato.  One scoop of lemon gelato placed neatly aside a scoop of strawberry.  Two small scoops atop a cone for 1.5 euros, sold out of a tiny storefront near the Piazza Santa Maria in Trastevere.

                The strawberry, pretty close to my favorite flavor of anything, was the one I initially wanted.  The lemon was the one I'd not tried before; my adventure scoop.  I was looking forward to that strawberry gelato that I imagined would taste of summer and sunlight.  It was my back up, my safety net, just in case my adventure scoop turned out to be less than delicious.  Perhaps if I'd eaten the strawberry gelato first, instead of saving it for last, things would have turned out differently.

                The moment I tasted that first scoop I began to regret that my second scoop was not also lemon.  This flavor was not just lemon, it was the essence of lemon.   It was as though the world's most lemony, lemon, yellow and brightly flavored had been blended with cream and sugar.  It was the coolest, most refreshing glass of lemonade you'd ever had put into gelato form.  It was heaven on a cone, worthy of poetry.  My strawberry gelato, slowly melting on the cone had become a contaminant in midst of this cold lemon perfection.

                I looked longingly back over my shoulder towards the gelato shop and wondered briefly if I should turn back.  I could buy another scoop.  I could abandon all my afternoon plans and just sit at one of those small tables outside the shop eating lemon gelato.  But this was Italy and I was in Rome; I had sights to see and antiquities to discover.  I pressed on.

                I visited numerous piazzas filled with stunning marble statuary and fountains.  As I watched the water flowing and splashing from spout to pool I thought to myself how refreshingly cool it looked but I knew what would be even more refreshingly cool.  Lemon gelato.

                I climbed to the top of the Gianicolo to take in the Roman skyline.  As I gazed out upon the towers, domes and turrets of Rome I was, for a moment in awe, but as the moments passed the towers transformed into cones and the domes into round, delicious scoops of icy-smooth, lemon gelato.  I thought to myself that while Rome might be considered a feast for the senses, lemon gelato with its delicate lemon scents, its sweet and tart taste, it's cool and soft creamy feel on the tongue, was a banquet.

                I entered the dark sanctuary of the Basilica of Santa Maria in Trastevere.  I craned my neck to see the beautifully overdone baroque ceiling with the ascension of Mary into heaven at its center.  I walked the exquisite marble floors covered in spirals and mandalas; no two were alike.  I sat, head bowed before the painting of the black Madonna and felt humbled, but even then, in that quiet moment of meditation it was there. 

                Lemon gelato is where you will find peace.

                Lemon gelato will bring you a sense of purpose.

                Lemon gelato IS your purpose in life.

                Lemon gelato is life.

                Lemon gelato.

                I left the church and continued to wander the city, seeking something that would replace the thought…no, the desire that was tugging at my very soul.  Before this day I had liked gelato, there were even flavors of gelato I liked a lot, but this was different.  Lemon gelato was not merely a tasty cool treat on a too hot, too humid afternoon, it was a transportive experience; it took me to another place, a higher plane.  It delivered what religion and Calgon promised but rarely delivered. 

                 In my search for escape, for something else to replace what had become an obsessive thought,  that day I walked nearly 15 miles.   I saw artistic masterpieces that moved my heart.  I visited churches that were so wonderfully full of tradition it brought me close to wishing I was still a Catholic. I ate pizza that made my taste buds dance.  I drank wine that warmed me from head to toe.  But at the end of it all I felt only one thought.

                I really, really, really, really wish that I'd had a second scoop of lemon gelato.

The Problem with Being a Tourist

Dubrovnik has survived earthquakes, tsunamis and war.  It has been reduced to rubble and rebuilt multiple times.   Today it is an urban medieval artscape in marble.  Breathtaking is an entirely appropriate word...as are touristy, crowded and hot.  It is a beautiful for sure and it is amazing how, over the past 20 years, it has been restored to a point that you'd never know that in 1992 most of the buildings inside the old city were missing roofs, walls and windows (and in fact most students from the ship had no idea that, within their lifetimes, there had even been a war here).  It is indeed a place to put on your list if you are travelling to the region but be prepared for the crowds.  

This place is packed with tourists.  My Portland, Maine friends can likely relate to the frustration that comes with the experience of attempting to walk to some place in the Old Port at the height of summer when the sidewalks are full of slow moving, sky-gazing tourists.   Unlike these cruise ship and bus  borne interlopers you KNOW where you want to go and all you want to do is GET there, which you would totally do if the apparently lost and overly wowed tourists would simply make way for you!!!!  Multiply that times a thousand and you'll have Dubrovnik.  

Okay so at first I didn't notice, because I was too busy being one of those slow moving, sky gaping waddlers.  And since most of the tourists come from cruise ships that stop in for only a day, my guess is that they don't notice the crowds either.  Overwhelmed by architectural artistry their senses are oblivious to the press of bodies around them, it is all they can do to keep their eye out for the flag, umbrella or other handheld sign that  their tour guide wiggles and waves above the bustle because without they they'd become quite lost in the warren of narrow, shop filled streets.

As frustrated as the crowds made me one really can't blame them.  Most tourists are in the city for one day, maybe two.  They jam in as many sights as they can, eat a local specialty, drink a little too much and by a souvenir magnet for the fridge so each time they go for leftovers they will be reminded of that beautiful city they visited but never really got to know. 

And I guess that is the blessing and the curse of being a tourist, and what I am beginning to question about this journey; one tastes a lot places, but gets to know none of them.  The place I am coming to know best is this ship and this sea, but that my dear readers is something I am saving for another blog post.