Turkey Day

Happy Thanksgiving, my friends!

It’s been a rather low-key day here on the ship. Classes and routine were as usual, but they did whip up a traditional Thanksgiving dinner for us in the kitchen (which is no easy task when cooking for six hundred).

I hope this day finds you in the fullest posture of gratitude for God’s goodness and grace, and for the abundance we know and experience daily that such a great deal of the world is without.

Whether you’re a friend or a family member or a random blog-reader, I’m grateful for you on this day, and I wish you all warmth and blessing this Thanksgiving.

Love. Anna

Farewell to Jesse and Hello to Don

Our crew works on ten-month contracts that don’t correspond with the dates of fall and spring voyages in their entirety, which means we had to say goodbye to a bunch of our crewmembers in Hong Kong.

One of them was our beloved cabin steward, Jesse.

Jesse probably knew Allie and I better than anyone else on the ship.

He knew what time we each woke in the morning, he knew when we were feeling stressed with work (because our room would grow exponentially more messy), and he cleaned around many a pair of panties (our room often becomes a small-scale laundry mat after being in port) as he made our bed each morning.

We were sad to see him go.

But we’ve welcomed Don into our lives now.

Don is efficient and smiley and has a sense of humor about things (as we know from the way he makes Allie’s bed and places her stuffed hippo in front of her open laptop, as if the hippo were typing away important documents—cracks us up every time, Don).

Nine days to Hawaii.

Love. Anna

Japan

In thirty-six minutes we’ll be sailing away from our last international port (those are such bittersweet words to type).

I’m completely enchanted with Japan, and also adamantly set on returning—four days just wasn’t enough (I know I feel that way with every country, but I really do mean it when it comes to Japan).

The fun thing was that each day in Japan I got to spend in a different city.

Day one: Yokohama—lovely and quiet and lined with trees lit up with all kinds of autumn hues. We took the bus to the Sankeien Gardens, where we viewed a tea ceremony and hiked to a pagoda and threw euros from Spain into a wishing-well. We finished the night off with sushi and people watching (my favorite) and When Harry Met Sally (also my favorite, and quite possibly the best chick-flick ever written).

Day two: Tokyo—Brittany and I decided to take the train to Tokyo for the day, and were completely out of our minds when we went without a single map or brochure or destination in mind. We wandered far and wide, and conveniently stumbled upon the Harajuku district and Takeshita Street, where we window shopped and admired the prettily dressed people (in, of course, our baggy sweatshirt and jeans—we haven’t been able to do laundry for over three weeks. But then who am I kidding? My entire Semester at Sea wardrobe could be washed and hanging in our closet and my outfit still wouldn’t hold a candle to the immaculately put together women of Tokyo) and ate the most scrumptious dip-died noodles ever.

Day three: Hiroshima—We drove ten hours total for our visit, but I have no regrets in choosing to spend my day that way. Anyone remotely close to having the means should go and see and grieve and learn (or at least read John Hersey’s booked, eloquently titled Hiroshima). The atomic age is one I would wish on a million stars to be able to erase, and the museum that was erected to remember August 6, 1945 is breathtaking in that it chooses to skip blame in order to seek something greater—this in itself brings to my heart a great hope.

Day four: Kyoto—My Anthropology of Reproduction professor took a group of us to Arashiyama’s Monkey Park for some good, solid Japanese macaque observation. The macaques are the most hilarious things you’ve ever seen, with their bright red faces and even redder butts (it was indecent of me, I know, but I couldn’t resist snapping a few pictures of the their buttocks). After our observation time was finished, Marissa and I stayed behind to explore the gorgeous, little town of Arashiyama. We had lunch and peeked in the town’s quaint little shops and enjoyed some sweet potato ice cream before navigating three different train lines back to the boat in Kobe for on-ship time.

And just like that we begin our ten-day trek to Hawaii.

The MV Explorer is lovely, and I’ve met people on the MV Explorer that are even lovelier. But ten straight days sailing on a boat of this size is enough to give anyone cabin fever. On top of that fact, we are going to have eight class days during this stretch, and sad as it sounds, that’s unprecedented for us on this voyage, so Allie and I might just be loosing some hair (reality will be a very, very cruel thing come January).

But not to worry—we’re going to do our very best to quell the fever with plenty of movie-nights and Uno games.

Love. Anna

heavy heart.

I visited Hiroshima today.

And I understand better now how dark of day it truly was when humanity figured out how to melt the flesh of 100,000 people with a bomb 3 meters long.

Eyeballs became liquefied and rolled down charred faces as tears.

Human beings were evaporated into oblivion leaving nothing but a black shadow on the sidewalk beneath them.

I’ll be gnawing on this one for a while.

Love. Anna

Important Notice

So I’ve used bathrooms of all shapes and sizes on this trip, right?

From the squatty-potty to the hole in the ground to your plain, old, average toilet—I thought I had seen it all.

Then Japan happened.

I feel the need to inform those of you who thought we had it won with the western toilet that you are mistaken.

Because the toilets in Japan are completely amazing.

Fact.

Heated toilet seats? Remote controls for toilets?

I never knew, I NEVER KNEW about such things, my friends.

Basically, I’m changed—Japanese toilets have changed me.

It's like peeing in the land of the Jetsons.

And I thought you needed to know that Japan is kicking our big booty in the race for most technological toilet.

Love. Anna

Second to last stop...

2 days in Yokohama.

2 days in Kobe.

And one great big hooray for Japan!

Love. Anna

So one thing I had every intention of blogging regularly about, and have failed massively at actually following through on, is food in port.

This is due in large part to the fact that a great deal of the time, we have no idea what we’re eating (there are moments when I think this is for the best).

Menus aren't often in English, and it’s a rare day when you have a waiter who can speak a semblance of broken English, which means it's really a wonder we ever order anything at all.

On occasion, there does happen to be an English menu that’s completely misspelled, and we end up almost peeing our pants attempting to order “Fnied Schnimp with Siggling Onions” while keeping a straight face. And I kid you not when I say there was a dish on the menu in China called “The Palace Explodes the Diced Chicken”—I was tempted to order it, but I passed (I’m not sure how my stomach generally feels about exploded chicken).

Sometimes, we use our own brand of food sign language. Other times, the menu has pictures to point at or you gesture to a kind local eating next to you, who’s vastly more knowledgeable regarding a good order than you could ever be.

And then there was one time in India, where we walked into a restaurant that I’m pretty convinced no foreigner had ever been before—everyone there spoke Tamil (and Tamil exclusively). By the time we sat down to eat, we were so hot and tired and hungry, and there were no menus.

We talked to the waiter man for a minute as if he had absolutely no problem understanding English. Of course he didn’t understand, and began to talk at us, as if we could understand perfect Tamil, which we (shockingly) couldn't.

So I smile widely, and we enter a staring contest of sorts, the waiter and I just looking at each other, until he shakes his head, mutters something, and walks away.

But you know what, he ended up bringing out a perfectly delicious spread for us, and while it’s not the most dignified way of ordering food at a restaurant, it worked in a pinch.

Now for food in China (as I was at my most adventurous in this port).

I had my first bite of duck brain in China—extremely rich and buttery.

And I also really enjoyed eating lotus root, which is a vegetable that has a texture similar to that of an apple, but tastes like nothing I’ve ever had before.

Martin also took us a Sichuan hot-pot restaurant before we left Beijing, and it was hands-down THE spiciest food I have ever had in my life. This is not Mexican salsa spicy or even Indian curry spicy—this is otherworldly, tingly-mouth, cleansing-sweat spicy.

Our waitress brought out this huge pot of dark red broth that rested on a burner in the middle of our table. Floating atop the liquid we had affectionately titled “the witch’s brew” were four whole frogs (at least six inches in length each). Once the chili-broth started to boil, we tossed in all kinds of raw meat and vegetables, they cooked, and then we picked miscellaneous items out of the pot with our chopsticks—it was something like a very spicy grab bag, and you never knew just what you might end up with. 

Martin, of course, was absolutely dying of laughter watching our facial reactions to our mouths being completely aflame. But it wasn’t all that long before he started digging in and began sweating bullets himself (he admitted it was pretty spicy).

I must tell you that the frog was absolutely wonderful, and I quite enjoyed it. I would have it again if I ever got the opportunity (granted my taste buds were essentially charred from the spicy, but texture-wise I thought it very pleasant).

One last random thing I tried while in China was “Blueberry Breeze” flavored Pringles, (which were absurdly wide spread in the grocery marts and convenient stores). They were like what you might imagine salted fruit loops would taste—quite bizarre and something I never feel the need to try again.

So there you are for fun food in China!

I very much anticipate wonderful sushi in Japan, and Allie and I are already assembling a list of things we can’t wait to enjoy once we get home. Sometimes we lie in bed at night and ask each other “if you could have anything to eat right now, what would it be?”

It’s a game that normally ends with a burrito, a tuna sandwich, or chocolately-chip teddy grahams.

Love. Anna

Beijing

Minus weekends of slush at winter camp, I’ve never been in real snow before.

Which is why I kept telling myself it would be cold in Beijing.

But as someone who’s never known a cold that can sting your eyeballs and make your lips feel as though they’ve received a generous dose of Novocain, I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

The truth is, I laughingly bought leggings and a hat and mittens at the H&M in Hong Kong (which was a balmy 80 degrees by the way), thinking how cute and quaint it was to be making such a purchase.

When I stepped off the plane in Beijing wearing cotton socks and Converse, I finally understood—it would be COLD in Beijing.

That first night, Laurel (who’s tall and witty and makes for a lovely travel buddy) and Lila (who you should know now I absolutely adore) and I ran around the Peking University campus stalking up on long underwear and wool gloves and other such things one needs in order to be properly bundled. And then, of course, Lila and I bought the most ridiculous-looking panda hats. We wore them loud and proud around Beijing, and I can safely say that we most certainly spread joy everywhere we went, as a good three out of five locals couldn’t resist a hearty chuckle at the sight of us (I might post a quick picture if I find internet in Japan so you can get a better idea of exactly what we were sporting around town).

We walked out of the hotel the next morning looking like first cousins of the Michelin Man, but from there on out we were warm enough to enjoy Beijing in all it’s full (and snowy) glory. It felt absolutely magical to walk around the city with icicles hanging off of buildings and the pine trees so perfectly dusted. The Bird’s Nest Stadium was covered in snow, and the Great Wall was made that much more breathtaking (and treacherous, may I add…but more on that later) by the early winter cold.

I suppose I should’ve mentioned earlier that my trip to Beijing was a university exchange, so we were staying on the campus of Peking University (supposedly the Harvard of China, and one of it’s oldest universities). We toured around the city with a student-guide during the day, and in the evening we chatted with Chinese students at two separate receptions the university held for us.

Martin was my first university friend, and what a wonderful one he was—if my suitcase was big enough, I just might’ve smuggled him back on the boat! We got to chat about family and holidays and communism and his dreams of studying at Stanford one day. We all had quite a lot of questions for him, and Martin was ever so patient and lovely to answer them for us. He took Lila and Laurel and Eric and I to his favorite eatery on campus, and we bought soup-in-a-bag and squid-on-a-stick and a random egg-pancake thing, and we could see our breath as we walked happily through the campus.

Lily is my other university friend. I met her at the reception on the second night. She’s studying law, and her hair holds curl (which she is rightfully quite proud of). We talked about relationships and dating and marriage in our respective countries, and about her dreams of studying at Cal Berkley (notice a theme in dreams here?).

Other wonders that I had the pleasure of seeing while I was in Beijing were the Summer Palace (absolutely gorgeous covered in snow), the Ming Tombs, Tiananmen Square (there was much to learn here as the massacre took place the year I was born), the Great Hall of the People (i.e. the Chinese parliament building), an acrobatics show (a slightly lower budget Chinese style Cirque du Soleil), the Forbidden City (gigantic), the Temple of Heaven, and of course, the Great Wall of China (my personal highlight)—we were just a little bit busy, and a little bit tired at the end of four days. Just a little though.

I have a million little gems of moments and memories from my time in China that I wish to share with you in perfect nuance—it truly was such a marvelous time—but this is a small start in that direction, and it won’t be long now until I can convey them to you personally (HOOray!).

Last night, I must have woken up hourly to the sound of drawers slamming or the jolt of a large, rolling wave against the ship, and it’s been so long since we’ve had really rough seas that it seems I’ve lost any and all tolerance I had for them—but our stretch to Japan is so brief; I know I can make it!

Sporting the sea bands and wishing you the calmest of seas,
Anna