Lively India

As I type this, my henna is wearing off. There are traces of it left on my right hand, but they're only noticeable if you bother to take a second look. 

We are currently on day 5 of 6 on our way to Mauritius, and as I sit here I realize that I'm over the half way mark in every way possible. I have more countries behind me than in front of me. There are more days behind me than in front of me. There are more class days behind me than in front of me. 

Where did time go?

I know I have not been the best blog updater, and I haven't updated in awhile, but I think it's important that I talk a little bit about Burma and India. (I am also procrastinating) 

Recently my social psych professor said that we shouldn't try to qualify our time in each of these ports. If we try to explain why we loved a place, or why we loved a certain experience, we often cannot put into words what we truly feel. Either we don't know what we're feeling or we don't know why we feel the way we do. If we try to use words to explain, we use words that can't properly state how we're feeling. Why did I love Burma so much? Why did l love India so much?

I have this thing where I'm trying think of a word that describes my time in each country, and I feel like it is a good compromise between trying to share how I feel without ruining my experience by trying too hard to explain how I feel. For Burma, my word is serene. I spent most of my time in Inle Lake, and the entire time I just felt a sense of peace. For India, my word is lively. The crazy tuk tuk driving, the crowds, the yelling, the colors...everything just screamed alive. And although Burma has a place in my heart forever, India got it beating like no other place has.

We have this thing where after each port there is a "post port" reflection. I've been to almost every single one, and each time I leave slightly frustrated but also enlightened. Frustrated because people seem to complain if things don't go their way. Enlightened because it often makes me realize how I feel. 

I didn't even want to go to the "post port" for India--I didn't want to hear anything bad that people had to say. But of course I went anyway. People complained about the trash. People complained about not getting things for as cheap as they wanted to. People complained about the fact that people were overcharging them because they were "white Americans who are wealthy". And the entire time I felt so frustrated. How can people feel this way after leaving a place so alive? How?

We come to these places expecting to get things for dirt cheap. And sometimes we do. But when we don't, we think we're getting ripped off or cheated. 

What we don't think about is that these people we are buying things from have a life to live as well. They're trying to make ends meet. They're trying to feed their children or keep their shop open. They're not here to please us at all costs. We're the ones who are guests, and bargaining with them is a social interaction that we signed up for. And when you decided that yelling over 50 rupees (1 dollar) is a good idea, you've lost what you've come here for--learning, interacting, socializing, being outside of your comfort zone, compromising, laughing, loving. 

There was a time when I referred to myself as getting "ripped off". A tuk tuk driver who had been with us all day told us he would charge us $10 each for the day and decided at the end of the night to ask for $80 all together. It was just another girl and I, and we decided that since it was nightime, and no one else was around, we would just pay the money to get out of the situation. And I was mad. This was money that I could've spent on something else. 

While at post port, a professor said something that really stuck me him. He said "How much does it cost us to go to the movies? To drive to the theater, to buy the tickets, to buy our favorite snacks and a drink. How much does it cost?" In my head I'm trying to do the math. Well, if I go with both my parents that's automatically $30 for just our tickets. Driving there? Well, it takes about 30 minutes to get to the nearest movie theater, so there's that cost. What if I want popcorn? Another $7 or so. And a drinks for all of us? Add $20. Licorice? $5. Right there thats nearly $70, and that was just a leisure activity. 

So yes, I paid more than I originally thought we had agreed on. But I could spend the same amount on a piece of jewelry and not really think twice about it, or be angry about it. This guy had been with us all day, he had driven us all around (even to places we didn't ask to go), and I think he was generally concerned with whether or not we were having a good time. He had a house, two kids, and a wife to look out for. So the $40 I contributed to the $80 "tuk tuk fund" really was not worth getting angry over. It happened. And he can do a lot more with that money than I can. 

One of our Dean's said something on the first day, and I constantly think about it. He said that "One percent of the world gets a college education. One percent of the world gets to travel. And you are doing both." So even though Semester at Sea has been years in the making for me, and we have taken out a loan to pay for this journey, I am already wealthier and luckier than a significant population of this world. Yes we are all on budgets and don't have money to "blow" in all of these countries, but we're here. And just by being here we're extremely fortunate. 

As I travel around the world I'm learning lessons that I didn't know I would learn. Friends and I have been talking a lot about going home lately, and what that will be like. I think that's when the biggest change will come--right now everything is normal. All 1000 of us on this ship are going through the same thing. But back at home I'll be leaving this ship of comfort, this place that has become "normal". 

So when I come back, what I'm asking for is patience. Sometimes I may not be able to describe what I'm feeling and at other times I may tell the same story over and over again. There are going to be pictures that seem insignificant to you, but will probably be my screensaver for the next couple of months. There are inside jokes that I may blurt out thinking someone will understand, but no one will. Laugh anyway. 

To all my friends who have studied abroad. I promise you the same. I promise to listen to your stories and look at your pictures and not roll my eyes when you tell me the same story I know I've heard before. I promise to ask questions and to genuinely care. Because our adventures are our adventures for a reason. They make us who we are and who we are becoming. 

I also promise to try to blog more, but this six day stretch in between India and Mauritius is going by way too fast. I haven't caught up on my journal, I have a paper due, I have a midterm, and that's just tomorrow. 

Sometimes it's easy to forget that this is school as well. 

Shipboard Life

Traveling is a huge component of Semester at Sea. Within a couple of months I have visited and will visit Japan, China, Hong Kong, Vietnam, Singapore, Burma, India, Mauritius, South Africa, Ghana, Morocco, and Spain. When people ask to hear stories, they'll expect to hear about what I did in country--the story of the snake around my neck in Vietnam, our lost in translation moments in Japan, the hypothetical beach day in Mauritius, my homestays in South Africa and Morocco. 

And these will be wonderful stories to tell.

But what get's overlooked a lot of the time is the journey--the days we spend getting from one place to another. It's hard to believe that I've been on the M.V Explorer for nearly 2 months (!!!!!!). It feels so much shorter and longer at the same time. Shorter because time is flying, but longer because the people who have become my friends feel like friends that I've had for years, not a couple of months. 

So what I'm going to tell you about to day is a normal day on the M.V Explorer--my home. 

It's common to say good morning to Arch (as in Desmond Tutu) every morning. I'll go to breakfast around 8am with my roommate, we'll meet up with our usual crowd of friends (Michela, Wendy, Kaitlyn, Cali, Emily), and we'll talk about anything and everything. Sometimes we wonder what we're missing back home, if there's a song equivalent to Call Me Maybe out right now and we're just blissfully unaware. Sometimes we'll talk about the paper that's due that we should be writing, or a test that snuck up on us. Sometimes we'll lookout for the new cereal that is being put out and whether or not there was any pineapple leftover in the fruit selection. Sometimes we'll talk about what we did in past countries and what we're doing in future countries. 

This has become normal. 

What astounds me is that we're able to say "Oh, I need to finish this paper before India", or "I can't believe I have a midterm right after Burma", or "What are your plans for Ghana?". Referring to countries instead of days has become the way that we keep time. When everybody around you is going through the same thing you are, it's easy to forget that this isn't a common journey that we're on. 

Sometimes we'll sing Taylor Swift songs as we're walking up the stairs, or we'll meander from one side of the hallway to the other due to a wave. The day goes by in a blur of errands and conversations...visits to the field office trying to figure what to do in a country, talking to Unreasonable people in line during lunch, taking malaria pills, and sanitizing hands "or risk pooping" (so threatens our Dean). 

There's usually a lot that goes on at night--we go to Zumba, go to the gym together, eat dinner, hang out in the Piano Lounge. Around 8pm (or 2000) there is usually some sort of preport that goes on in the Union where we learn about the country that we're heading to. These usually go on every night, but the one that happens the day before we get into port is mandatory. The doctor tells us about all the diseases we could contract, how to avoid travelers diarrhea (whoops), what foods to avoid, all that fun stuff. The Dean will tell us statistics from the last port (ex: 29 stolen iPhones in Vietnam), a couple credit card frauds, etc. The head of the Field Office will come and tell us about all the amazing things to do, and interport students will chime in with things to add to our to do list and helpful phrases. For example, last night at the cultural preport for India a interport student taught us how to say "yes, spice" and "no, spice". 

A day in the life.

Usually there will be other things going on after the Explorer Seminar/Preport. Last night there was a panel discussion on "How to Change the World" with Archbishop Desmond Tutu, Tori Hogan, and Ken Banks. The people on this ship just astound me. Ken Banks has been acknowledged by National Geographic, Tori is barely 30 and she's written a book (check it out, it's called Beyond Good Intentions), and I don't think I have to list anything about Desmond Tutu. 

But by far what astounds me the most is the fact that this ship has become home. It is literally the place that is taking me to all these countries. I open my cabin door in the morning, I walk up the stairs, I reach the sixth deck and then I have the option of turning right or left, both will take me around the same circle above Tymitz Square, through the piano lounge, and into the Garden Lounge, which is one of the decks where meals are served. I know how long it takes for me to get to each class from where I am (tops 2 minutes), and I have become a pro at using the demonic ice dispenser on the 6th deck. My twin size bed and small cabin are welcome sites when I return from a country where I have left the city where the ship is. Getting back on the ship feels like coming home, even if it's just at the end of a very long day. 

The community that has been built on this ship deserves a whole blog post of its own, but to put into words what it actually is isn't possible. As my psych prof told me, sometimes trying to put things into words just messes up the experience in the first place. So picture this: a place where you feel absolutely comfortable and satisfied. The minute closet space and 3 drawers that you own you know by heart. Should I mention that someone cleans your room every other day? The showers are nothing special but they are your shower. You wake up in the morning, see somebody you've never even talked to, and you acknowledge eachother for no other reason than the fact that you are on a ship, in the middle of an ocean, going on this incredible journey together. 

We are all in this together. 

I hope that I've managed to convey (at least a little bit) what makes Semester at Sea so special. All the youtube videos I've watched, emails I've sent to alumni, pictures I've seen online...this is now my life. I am the "current voyage" on the Semester at Sea website, it's my voyage that is being talked about, my life that is being lived. 

So as I get ready to step foot in India, I want to send out a sincere thanks to all the people who listened to me talk endlessly about SAS, staring my sophomore year of high school. This is everything more than I wished for, and even though I've spent a night in the bathroom losing everything inside me (and more), I currently have a head cold, and I'm pretty sure I'm missing out on one of the sunniest days so far, this is still by far one of the best days of my life...because I am home.