Help, I've begun to write pirate-themed poetry.

“Be brave, take chances, accept the unexpected.”

I am reporting to you, my dears, from a ship in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.  I looked-up from the stern of the ship tonight to see more stars than I have seen in years—probably about twenty stars.  Even in the dark, the ocean is distinguishably darker than the sky.  We saw another ship passing us in the night.  The temptation to signal, somehow, anyhow, was overwhelming.  But we stayed silent.

I have been aboard the MV Explorer since late morning of the 27th of August.  I am stationed in a cabin that is much like a normal dorm room, except significantly smaller and bearing a tendency to rock and roll.  To those of you who haven’t figured it out by now, my name is Celeste.  My roommate’s name is Megan.  We get along well.  Our cabin steward’s name is Edwin; every morning he makes our beds, just for us to unmake them again.

This is the beginning of my semester at sea.

Sea-legs are spread widely and move in a cumbersome way.  Shifting one’s weight heavily from one side to the other is the only way to maintain balance on a heavy vessel doing the same.  Walking down the stairs or in the hallways, when a particularly dramatic lurch comes about, everyone is suspended in time for a second: some with legs in mid-air, others standing awkwardly, as if poised to attack.

Maintaining hydration, breathing deeply and keeping one’s stomach about half full prevent seasickness.  And yes, half full, not half empty.  One of the main agitators of seasickness is homesickness.

The first day, I was sick, but just barely on the right side of the threshold that kept me out of bed and out of the bathroom.  All of yesterday and today I have been fine, with the exception of a bit of nausea before breakfast (no, I am not pregnant) and similar feelings, now, that I am taking a moment to be homesick, to miss my beautiful friends and wonderful family.

Familiarity has never “bred” contempt for me, in regards to the city I live in, the circles I choose to be in.  But I think that even the people who claim to hate their families and all of the people around them are probably missing their own beds—although the rocking of the ship does make most of us sleep like those notorious treetop babies, are probably missing their typical food choices—although the kitchen staff has been doing an incredible job so far (Mom—when I get home, there’s this great eggplant and zucchini dish we need to add to the repertoire.), miss their own friends—although so many students here are wonderful, and probably even miss their own “not-so-favorite people”—even though there are easily at least two of every major personality flaw strutting about the decks.  The sense of lacking ownership is a scary one: we are living on someone else’s property, working on someone else’s time.  We are becoming part of other peoples’ families and trying to be friends with other peoples’ friends.  The only thing I own here is myself, and I need to make certain that I do not lose sight of that.

I am on Dionysus Deck—not as rambunctious as it sounds, in the Caribbean Sea, also not as spunky as it sounds.  These are just organizational titles, like how in middle school we had “teams” like the “schooners” and the “sharks” and “red group” and “blue group.”  Speaking of my dolphin heritage (shout-out to ESMS!): there was a group of dolphins hopping along behind the ship earlier.  I assume that the stream of bubbles and foam left behind is a lot like a giant Jacuzzi for them.

I had my first class today, Higher Education in the Global Economy.  The professor is Dr. David Breneman.  He’s pretty esteemed, works with OECD, worked at Harvard, has been a college president… this that and the other.  I am excited for the class, and I do not mind at all that there are really only a few students in it.  One of them is named Leo; he goes to school in Hawai’i, but he’s originally from the New Haven area.  He’s 29-years-old, and he helped me carry one of my super heavy suitcases into the hostel I stayed in while in Halifax.  Actually, he carried it all by himself.  He also has the same shoes as me—Vibram Five Fingers, classics, black—wicked!  The fact that he is an intelligent human being is also comforting.  These things are familiar to me, having been a community college student I am used to having older students around me.  Familiarity breeds content (this sentence is grammatically incorrect, but I am trying to be poetic, okay?).

Another student I am a good friend with, Jeanette, is 26.  She is originally from Illinois, but goes to school in Minnesota.  Her school is about 10-percent American Indian, which is a phenomenal amount.  She studied the Dakota language for a year, her favorite hobby is mock trial; she is one of the strangest people I have ever met, which makes her seem very normal.

But it’s not just a bunch of students and a few professors, here.  Two of the most interesting people I have met so far are in neither category.  As we were setting sail, I went out to the deck to wave goodbye to the Americas and feel the wind in my hair.  An older woman was standing beside me on the rail and decided to strike-up a conversation.  She went on Semester at Sea when she was my age and has been plotting how to get back on ever since.  Her in?  She’s the ship-doctor’s wife.  There are always benefits to marrying a doctor—remember this!  This morning at breakfast, I sat down alone, partially because I was afraid that my nausea might not be cured instantly and could have worsened, and partially because I have come to find that sitting down alone becomes an adventure in meeting people, due to limited seating.  One of the totally random people who decided to join me was a fellow named Greg.  He’s not a student, he’s not a professor, he’s actually not doing any work on the ship whatsoever… as far as the program is concerned.  He’s in commercial real estate and trying to work via e-mail.  But he decided that it would be good to bring his wife and his five kids, ages 8, 10, 12, 14 and 16, who he has been homeschooling, on this voyage.  Why can’t Greg be everybody’s dad?

Between long talks with people from everywhere, long stares out into what seems like nowhere and enormous games of Apples-to-Apples, it has been a good few days.

I miss my mother.  I miss my brother.  I miss the family dog.  I miss my friends.  I miss our wonderful stationary home.  I miss being able to Google anything and everything at any time and every time.  I miss the sureness of self that I have on solid ground, in Connecticut, even in Korea and Ecuador.  I miss knowing that where I am is exactly where I need to be.  But I am so fortunate, and not just for this opportunity.  For all of those things I miss.  And for who I am.

On our first day, we were asked to visualize something.  I’ll walk you through it, but you can’t read with your eyes shut no matter how many Dr. Seuss books you’ve read, so just try to imagine it with your eyes open.

You are stepping off of a ship, or a plane, or even out of a car.  It is hot in a way you have never fathomed heat.  It smells like a million things, some good, some bad, some familiar, some totally unidentifiable.  There are hordes of people who look unlike you, bustling around, noisily.  You find a clearing with a bench and you sit for a minute to catch your bearings.  A small child approaches, dressed in faded clothing, holding her hand to her mouth.  Not long after, a group of seven children approach from the other side, some smiling, but most holding their hands to their mouths.

We were asked how we felt in this situation and what we would do.

I do not understand why classmates of mine who have come from substantially better-off upbringings should feel helpless in this situation, should feel like there is nothing they can do other than to “be with” the children and make them laugh.

There’s nothing wrong with being with others or making them laugh—I could use some of that right now, myself.

My initial response was to find an ice-cream vendor.  Remember, this is a very hot imagined scenario—ice cream seems like a smart choice.  As I thought more about it, I figured that I should try and see if the children had any common understanding of a language: English, French, Spanish.  Then I could talk to them about the situation.  If they had no parents, I could find them an orphanage.  If they had poor, starving parents, I could find a way for their parents to participate in a microfinance project, such as the ones sponsored by the Grameen Bank, or a livestock program, such as Heifer International.

While I may be saddened, I can't imagine feeling entirely helpless.  Every single person who wants to help can help, and every single person who wants to help can help on his or her own terms.  Nobody has to be uncomfortable, although I highly recommend it from time to time.

Sorry for the enormousness of my blog-rant, but this is where I am at right now.  I am holding on to the idea that I know how capable I am, I know how strong I am, I know how forward I am.  I know that I am what people cannot buy or sell.  I am someone who owns her own life.

Even if I do not have my family, my friends, my house, my daily routine, my stuffed elephant and my stuffed platypus all in close proximity, I have myself as close as I can possibly be kept.  I have my life, I have my values, I have my goals, I have my achievements, I have my spark, I have my wit, I have my laughter, I have my own tears, I have my memories and I have my love.  But I also have the love that waits for me back home.  And that's what makes days like these—long, dreary, uneventful—something I can handle.

Much love to you all.

Semester at Sea! -- So Very Close!

Itinerary:
Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada
Cadiz, Spain
Casablanca, Morocco
Takoradi, Ghana
Cape Town, South Africa
Port Louis, Mauritius
Chennai, India
NEW PORT:Singapore
Ho Chi Minh City, Viet Nam
Hong Kong / Shanghai, China
Yokohama / Kobe, Japan
Honolulu / Hilo, Hawaii, USA
San Diego, California, USA
**Itineraries are subject to change.

Food, Friends, the Future and Freedom: A Recap of SoKo

So, I was a bad blogger in SoKo.  I was super low-energy between six hours of class each day and horrible heat and humidity... not to mention the thigh-busting hills... never thought I'd miss them.  I can't really summarize how I feel about Korea and all of the things that happened there... but I can categorize some thoughts and answer some questions I have been asked repeatedly.

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Food: Adjusting to another culture's cuisine is always difficult.  Korea, like most places, has a carbohydrate/starch-dominant diet: rice, noodles, rice noodles.  The number one vegetable is cabbage: kimchi, their version of coleslaw, soup, stir-fry.  Meat usually comes in small, barely distinguishable portions.  Foreign-cuisine restaurants are common in urban areas.

What I did not like:  "GARLIC PIE" is a waste of ingredients.  It is the only thing I purchased in Korea that I did not finish for a reason other than being full.  "Garlic pie" is a small, flakey, crusty breadstick sort of thing.  It is extremely garlicky, which is great.  It is also absolutely imbued with sugar.  Which was incredibly confusing to me.  I had one from the package, and I let them sit on the shelf in my dorm for a week, debating with myself whether I was just not used to the combination and psychologically offended, or if I actually did not like them.  They are actually disgusting.  Do not try them unless you like the idea of Krispy Kreme making a glazed garlic donut.

What I usually ate:

 


In the morning, I would have a protein bar from home before class.  I would get a lemonade with some funny Engrish on it from the vending machine.  Lunch was usually in the school cafeteria or from their convenience store.  Cafeteria food varied, but they often served a breaded and fried meat cutlet with rice, kimchi, miso soup and Korean coleslaw (the dressing is unmixed and Thousand Island instead of mayo--not a bad idea!).  They also had some fun spicy chicken chunks now and then.  From the convenience store, I would get a boxed sandwich.  They looked frightening at first, but they may have changed my sandwich-aversion.  There is an American-style coleslaw sandwich, which was a disappointment, but the coolest sandwich ever is mustard, a slice of ham, seafood and chicken salad (one salad, both types of flesh), carrot, cucumber and pickles.  Believe me, you won't regret this unless you're religiously obliged not to eat pork.   Korea has a FANTASTIC junkfood company called Lotte, and they make these awesome little cakes called La Seine (the river that runs through Paris) and a chocolate bar called Ghana (one of the countries that whipped the US in the World Cup).  The stereotype that Asian people do not like sweet things is simply not true.   And yes.  We all ate tons of ramen.  I had a few varieties that I liked, but my favorite was, essentially, a broth made from the same hot pepper sauce as kimchi with noodles, green onions and little bits of seafood.  Satisfaction and sinus cleansing packed into every bite.  By the way, I was told that the "correct" way to eat ramen is to suck it down in a most inappropriate fashion, no chewing, just swallowing.  I'd rather do things a good way than the "correct" way.  And yes, I ate with chopsticks and it was fine.

What I loved: I tried different kinds of foreign cuisine in Korea, aside from all of the Korean food.  The Italian food I had was considerably good, of a much better quality than many restaurants in Connecticut, definitely the more "affordable" ones.  The French food was alright, but disappointing in the sense that I have grown to expect much better from the French.  I will, however, return to Seoul just to visit the best Indian restaurant I have ever eaten at.  It's a little second-story place not far from the campus called New Delhi, run by some Nepali folks.  Their vegetable curry is the best I've ever had, their lamb curry makes me feel OK about slaughtering baby sheep to feed myself.  Their chicken curry and tandoori were fine, naan was fine, samosas were PHENOMENAL.  Even their green salads were good, with some nice kicky nasturtium.  No regrets on the Indian food.  None.

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Friends: This program was not just a few lonely Americans and a gaggle of Koreans.  Students from nearly forty different countries participated, ranging from all across Asia, including the Middle East, to Europe and Latin America.  I think the absolute best friends I made were the two girls who came from Saudi Arabia: Sara and Abrar.  I feel like we got along really well and learned a lot form one another.  I can't wait to visit them in Saudi Arabia and have them visit me in Connecticut.  I hope that all of the awesome people I met in this program do take the opportunity to come visit.  I'll even show them around and make them food.  Seriously!

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The Future: Korea is a very forward-thinking and forward-moving country, at least in terms of presented culture.  They talk about their past a lot, especially concerning North Korea, but that is highly related to their present and, for better or for worse, their future.  Of course, plenty of Koreans are materialistic, selfish and present-minded, not caring for the future beyond their own personal happiness: I think that there are probably people like this in all countries, especially amongst younger generations.

One of the highlights of going to South Korea was the discussion of "reunification" with the north.  This occurred in both of my classes, and many young Koreans feel that it would not be worth the costs to join with the north again, due to economic differences.  North Korea is, at best, a third-world country, while South Korea is first-world.  Germans still cite differences in the economic state of eastern and western Berlin, even about a decade after the fall of the wall.  Berlin is far smaller than Korea and has the rest of the German economy to utilize, beyond international sources.  Despite the phenomenal economic and social gains South Korea has made in a relatively short period of time, namely after the "end" of the Korean War, bringing the north up to an economic state anywhere near that of SoKo's would be a huge investment and a labor of love requiring commitments of at least a few decades, if not half a century.  There would more than likely be a huge exodus from the north, further increasing its poverty and causing social unrest in the south.

Visiting the DMZ was bizarre.  No, they do not let you anywhere near the northern border.  In fact, they have built quite a few convenience stores and an amusement park (seriously) for tourists to visit on their DMZ tour.  There is a look-out spot where you can see into North Korea, but cannot take photos "beyond the yellow line" unless you want a South Korean soldier to nab your camera.  They let you go down into part of a tunnel NoKo constructed in attempt to invade SoKo: one more thing I am too tall for.  But the strangest thing is the train station.  Within the DMZ, there is a train station that operates six times per day to bring about 700 South Koreans to and from the border of North Korea, where they enter by car to work as managers at SoKorean-owned factories in NoKo: NoKorean labor is extremely cheap, and even beyond that, the workers are heavily taxed to maintain a military that is funded by nearly a quarter of the national GDP, according to self-reports.  SoKo has been, indirectly, funding the creation of weapons that NoKo uses against them.  Near to the train station, there are "empty warehouses," anticipating the opening of trade with NoKo and the reception of goods from north of the border.  The train station is like a ghost town, except for the fact that your typical ghost-town is rundown and abandoned, rather than modern and merely untouched.  It came across as a cradle built in anticipation of a stillborn.  As I was exiting the station to walk around the exterior, a group of young schoolchildren, also on tour, greeted me in English.  I couldn't help, but smile.  I think the future will be good, even if it is difficult.

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Freedom:  The one thing that really rode my nerves when my classmates said that it would cost too much to reunify with the north is the simple fact that this is putting a price on other people's freedom.  People do not even question the fact that slavery is wrong and say they would do anything to end it if they saw it, but a lack of liberty enforced by a military regime s just as bad.  How much would you pay so that your son would not have to serve in the military for ten years of his life--of his prime?  How much would you pay so that your daughter would not have to serve for five years?  How much would you pay to give someone the choice to get out of a situation or a place they do not want to be in?  How much would you pay to give someone the chance to see family members they were forcibly torn from and forbidden from seeing for decades?  If South Korea can afford to contribute foreign aid, then South Korea can find a way to integrate NoKo peacefully and effectively.  Plus, it's not as if the added land, the connection with the rest of the continent and a larger population would be economically destructive to SoKo.  They're well aware of the fact that there are benefits to the hassle beyond sentimental freedom-loving hooey.