The seas are rough today.
And I think I’m coming down with a cold.
I shall nap, eat a bowl of soup at dinner, take some airborne (there’s something to be said for the placebo effect, right?), and hope that tomorrow brings more favorable conditions.
Love. Anna
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
Bought and Sold
IN EVERLASTING MEMORY
OF THE ANGUISH OF OUR ANCESTORS
MAY THOSE WHO DIED REST IN PEACE
MAY THOSE WHO RETURN FIND THEIR ROOTS
MAY HUMANITY NEVER AGAIN PERPETRATE
SUCH INJUSTICE AGAINST HUMANITY
WE THE LIVING UPHOLD THIS
--plaque on wall outside men’s slave dungeon
The dungeons themselves are unextraordinary. Large stone rooms that smell of four hundred year old feces.
But those large stone rooms are not at all ordinary.
They held within their walls thousands of human beings, with names and heartbeats and breath in their lungs and blood in their veins.
These people, with names and heartbeats and breath and blood, their very skin and bones, became something chained and starved, sold and owned.
We’ve made a commodity out of a lot of absurd things in this world…flesh and blood being the most disgusting and lamentable of them all.
But even then, I worry that slavery is something too often connotated as an evil of the past.
And so it is with every fiber of my being that I wish to whisper into the ear of the world that people are indeed still bought and sold, and entire chunks of our humanity are still in chains.
Poverty, hunger, disease, and disparity are, after all, dungeons of their own.
The question begging to be asked, then, is in what ways our own desire to consume and hunger for all things comfortable perpetuates bondage in this world? And what is the name of your master?
The prayer I offer tonight is for the human race. By grace, may we rise from our slumber enough to acknowledge the great weight of these chains, and may we find the desire, strength, and creativity to break them.
Love. Anna
OF THE ANGUISH OF OUR ANCESTORS
MAY THOSE WHO DIED REST IN PEACE
MAY THOSE WHO RETURN FIND THEIR ROOTS
MAY HUMANITY NEVER AGAIN PERPETRATE
SUCH INJUSTICE AGAINST HUMANITY
WE THE LIVING UPHOLD THIS
--plaque on wall outside men’s slave dungeon
The dungeons themselves are unextraordinary. Large stone rooms that smell of four hundred year old feces.
But those large stone rooms are not at all ordinary.
They held within their walls thousands of human beings, with names and heartbeats and breath in their lungs and blood in their veins.
These people, with names and heartbeats and breath and blood, their very skin and bones, became something chained and starved, sold and owned.
We’ve made a commodity out of a lot of absurd things in this world…flesh and blood being the most disgusting and lamentable of them all.
But even then, I worry that slavery is something too often connotated as an evil of the past.
And so it is with every fiber of my being that I wish to whisper into the ear of the world that people are indeed still bought and sold, and entire chunks of our humanity are still in chains.
Poverty, hunger, disease, and disparity are, after all, dungeons of their own.
The question begging to be asked, then, is in what ways our own desire to consume and hunger for all things comfortable perpetuates bondage in this world? And what is the name of your master?
The prayer I offer tonight is for the human race. By grace, may we rise from our slumber enough to acknowledge the great weight of these chains, and may we find the desire, strength, and creativity to break them.
Love. Anna
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Local Favorites
Ghanaians love a lot of things (as do we all).
But four things stood out to me in particular…
1.) Their banku. We have absolutely no equivalent to banku in the U.S. but it happens to be one of Ghana’s most popular food dishes. The best way I can describe what it’s like to eat banku is to say that it’s a little bit like eating raw pizza dough, except that it’s corn-based not flour, and it’s also fermented. It’s typically served in a big bowl of runny chili sauce with some pieces of chicken or fish. And you just dig in with your fingers. Those of you with texture issues, banku would not be your friend.
2.) Their religion. Ghana is a very religious society. It comes out in the most creative and hilarious of ways, my favorite being the names of shops and businesses along the side of the road. Blessed Assurance Motor Inc., God Is Able Wholesale Plywood Retailers, and (for my personal favorite) God’s Time Is The Best Hair Salon were just a few highlights I jotted down from the bus window.
3.) Their soccer. Along with the rest of the world (minus, curiously, the U.S.), Ghanaians are crazy for this sport! Not that I’ve ever watched the World Cup, but I promised our tour guide today (who told us his name was Tony Montana….these are the moments when you smile widely and nod) that I would follow the next one and root proudly for Ghana (who was one of the only African nations to qualify in 2008).
4.) Our president. Oh my, how they love him! Obama-love has been in the air at every port of call, but Ghana in particular has adopted him as their own. The President and First Lady paid a visit to Ghana this July, and it meant so incredibly much to the people. There was signage and billboards all over the place with our President’s picture on it. You can also buy anything from soccer jerseys to purses to bolts of textile fabric with Obama’s face on it. (I did think of buying you matching Obama PJ sets, Mom and Dad, but they didn’t come in your colors.)
These are the types of small eccentricities about each country that we all end up talking about at meals and chuckling about for days, until the time comes to carefully tuck them away as memories of places past.
Love. Anna
But four things stood out to me in particular…
1.) Their banku. We have absolutely no equivalent to banku in the U.S. but it happens to be one of Ghana’s most popular food dishes. The best way I can describe what it’s like to eat banku is to say that it’s a little bit like eating raw pizza dough, except that it’s corn-based not flour, and it’s also fermented. It’s typically served in a big bowl of runny chili sauce with some pieces of chicken or fish. And you just dig in with your fingers. Those of you with texture issues, banku would not be your friend.
2.) Their religion. Ghana is a very religious society. It comes out in the most creative and hilarious of ways, my favorite being the names of shops and businesses along the side of the road. Blessed Assurance Motor Inc., God Is Able Wholesale Plywood Retailers, and (for my personal favorite) God’s Time Is The Best Hair Salon were just a few highlights I jotted down from the bus window.
3.) Their soccer. Along with the rest of the world (minus, curiously, the U.S.), Ghanaians are crazy for this sport! Not that I’ve ever watched the World Cup, but I promised our tour guide today (who told us his name was Tony Montana….these are the moments when you smile widely and nod) that I would follow the next one and root proudly for Ghana (who was one of the only African nations to qualify in 2008).
4.) Our president. Oh my, how they love him! Obama-love has been in the air at every port of call, but Ghana in particular has adopted him as their own. The President and First Lady paid a visit to Ghana this July, and it meant so incredibly much to the people. There was signage and billboards all over the place with our President’s picture on it. You can also buy anything from soccer jerseys to purses to bolts of textile fabric with Obama’s face on it. (I did think of buying you matching Obama PJ sets, Mom and Dad, but they didn’t come in your colors.)
These are the types of small eccentricities about each country that we all end up talking about at meals and chuckling about for days, until the time comes to carefully tuck them away as memories of places past.
Love. Anna
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Awkwaba Ghana!
If there’s one country on our itinerary that will continue to hold my heart tightly in its grip, I think it will be Ghana. I have a particular affection for Ghana’s people…for their strength and dignity and joy, and for the warmth they extended us time and time again during our stay there.
You really can’t begin to understand Ghana until you wrap your head around (A) its diversity, (B) its history, and (C) the continent (with all its many problems) to which Ghana belongs (posts about some of these points in the days to come).
Imagine a country roughly about the size of Oregon containing 46 active languages, and 72 different ethnic groups. This makes a question like “What language do you speak in Ghana?” a complicated one.
Ghana is also a very young country; 52 years ago it wasn’t Ghana and it wasn’t independent.
This means that Ghana hasn’t figured out how to neatly package itself for foreign consumption (the tourist industry is still VERY new here), and I have to say that I found this to be incredibly refreshing. Believe it or not, there’s not even one McDonalds in the entire country (thank heavens there’s still a place on the globe to which that phrase applies).
We were actually the first cruise vessel ever to anchor at the port in Tema, and we’re also the largest group of students to ever visit Ghana (since we’re the first Semester at Sea voyage to ever stop in Ghana…which is all to say that there were many firsts for all in involved.
Allie and I had an amazing time at a local university on our first day in Ghana. We got to have lunch with some Ghanaian students, and then sit in on a lecture one of their professors was giving on traditional African proverbs. After the lecture, we taxied into the city (Accra) and explored, made some local friends at the market (chatted with them for a while), and had dinner at a traditional Ghanaian restaurant.
On Wednesday, we hiked a mountain up to these stone caves at Shai Hills Game Reserve. At the top, there was the most beautiful view of the savanna stretching for miles on all sides (Lion King style). We also saw some baboons and a few antelope. The tour of the Asokombo Dam was interesting (granted turbines and power plants have never really been my thing). It’s an impressive feat for sure (the lake created by this dam covers 4% of the country), and my professor is super enthusiastic, so that helps things.
Thursday was my tour of the castles/slave dungeons. It was a very long bus ride to Cape Coast (Ghana has LOTS of traffic), all totaled I spent about 7.5 hours on a bus, but I was glad I got the opportunity to visit both Elmina Castle, the first colonial fort ever built in sub-Saharan Africa (constructed by the Portuguese before Columbus even started his journey for the Americas, and later taken by the Dutch), as well as Cape Coast Castle (built by the British) which were the two most significant forts in the facilitation of the trans-Atlantic slave trade. It is as grotesque and nauseating as you could imagine—and something that will stick with me for a lifetime.
My last day in Ghana, Madeline, Allie, and I trekked around Accra (the capital) and Tema (our port city), getting harassed by vendors and making friends along the way. We were on a mission to find Ghanaian chocolate and fresh plantain chips—and this mission took us on quite an adventure that I will spare you the details of for fear my mother might faint (I’ve got to save some stories for when I return home, right?). BUT, I can say we did find both chocolate and heavenly, wonderful, divine plantain chips (and got a healthy dose of laughter in there too).
More thoughts on Ghana to come, but for now, I must say goodnight (I have papers to write…boo!). I miss everyone in Pasadena, SLO, and beyond ever-so-much! I do hope all is well!
Love. Anna
You really can’t begin to understand Ghana until you wrap your head around (A) its diversity, (B) its history, and (C) the continent (with all its many problems) to which Ghana belongs (posts about some of these points in the days to come).
Imagine a country roughly about the size of Oregon containing 46 active languages, and 72 different ethnic groups. This makes a question like “What language do you speak in Ghana?” a complicated one.
Ghana is also a very young country; 52 years ago it wasn’t Ghana and it wasn’t independent.
This means that Ghana hasn’t figured out how to neatly package itself for foreign consumption (the tourist industry is still VERY new here), and I have to say that I found this to be incredibly refreshing. Believe it or not, there’s not even one McDonalds in the entire country (thank heavens there’s still a place on the globe to which that phrase applies).
We were actually the first cruise vessel ever to anchor at the port in Tema, and we’re also the largest group of students to ever visit Ghana (since we’re the first Semester at Sea voyage to ever stop in Ghana…which is all to say that there were many firsts for all in involved.
Allie and I had an amazing time at a local university on our first day in Ghana. We got to have lunch with some Ghanaian students, and then sit in on a lecture one of their professors was giving on traditional African proverbs. After the lecture, we taxied into the city (Accra) and explored, made some local friends at the market (chatted with them for a while), and had dinner at a traditional Ghanaian restaurant.
On Wednesday, we hiked a mountain up to these stone caves at Shai Hills Game Reserve. At the top, there was the most beautiful view of the savanna stretching for miles on all sides (Lion King style). We also saw some baboons and a few antelope. The tour of the Asokombo Dam was interesting (granted turbines and power plants have never really been my thing). It’s an impressive feat for sure (the lake created by this dam covers 4% of the country), and my professor is super enthusiastic, so that helps things.
Thursday was my tour of the castles/slave dungeons. It was a very long bus ride to Cape Coast (Ghana has LOTS of traffic), all totaled I spent about 7.5 hours on a bus, but I was glad I got the opportunity to visit both Elmina Castle, the first colonial fort ever built in sub-Saharan Africa (constructed by the Portuguese before Columbus even started his journey for the Americas, and later taken by the Dutch), as well as Cape Coast Castle (built by the British) which were the two most significant forts in the facilitation of the trans-Atlantic slave trade. It is as grotesque and nauseating as you could imagine—and something that will stick with me for a lifetime.
My last day in Ghana, Madeline, Allie, and I trekked around Accra (the capital) and Tema (our port city), getting harassed by vendors and making friends along the way. We were on a mission to find Ghanaian chocolate and fresh plantain chips—and this mission took us on quite an adventure that I will spare you the details of for fear my mother might faint (I’ve got to save some stories for when I return home, right?). BUT, I can say we did find both chocolate and heavenly, wonderful, divine plantain chips (and got a healthy dose of laughter in there too).
More thoughts on Ghana to come, but for now, I must say goodnight (I have papers to write…boo!). I miss everyone in Pasadena, SLO, and beyond ever-so-much! I do hope all is well!
Love. Anna
Friday, September 25, 2009
Neptune Day
Hello Dear Friends,
I cannot fully describe how amazing my time was in Ghana. Truly, truly marvelous!
Before I start debriefing Ghana (yes, I’m stalling on this country…too much to digest!), I wanted to post the ever important news that tomorrow is Neptune Day here on board—a very special and important day in the life of a sailor.
Neptune Day happens every voyage when a ship crosses the equator (it’s also a no class day for us. Loves it!) Tomorrow, the MV Explorer will cross the equator at exactly zero degrees longitude and zero degrees latitude: the middle of the globe! Crazy, no?
There are supposedly lots of festivities that go on (which to be honest, sound more like hazing rituals to me more than anything else) so it should be fun. Apparently, we’re supposed to kiss fish and get smothered in fish guts? (Much mystery surrounds Neptune Day, if you can’t already tell). It’s also tradition on Neptune Day to have your head shaved, so a large number of guys will be partaking in that one, as well as a few brave women (I already know of one girl who’s shaving her head tomorrow, and I could just cry for her gorgeous blonde waves).
Onward to South Africa! (yikes, I cannot believe that we are almost through September)
Love. Anna
I cannot fully describe how amazing my time was in Ghana. Truly, truly marvelous!
Before I start debriefing Ghana (yes, I’m stalling on this country…too much to digest!), I wanted to post the ever important news that tomorrow is Neptune Day here on board—a very special and important day in the life of a sailor.
Neptune Day happens every voyage when a ship crosses the equator (it’s also a no class day for us. Loves it!) Tomorrow, the MV Explorer will cross the equator at exactly zero degrees longitude and zero degrees latitude: the middle of the globe! Crazy, no?
There are supposedly lots of festivities that go on (which to be honest, sound more like hazing rituals to me more than anything else) so it should be fun. Apparently, we’re supposed to kiss fish and get smothered in fish guts? (Much mystery surrounds Neptune Day, if you can’t already tell). It’s also tradition on Neptune Day to have your head shaved, so a large number of guys will be partaking in that one, as well as a few brave women (I already know of one girl who’s shaving her head tomorrow, and I could just cry for her gorgeous blonde waves).
Onward to South Africa! (yikes, I cannot believe that we are almost through September)
Love. Anna
Monday, September 21, 2009
Preface to Ghana
Ghana tomorrow!
I have my first batch of FDPs (Faculty Directed Practica) coming up in Ghana. These are excursions created by my professors to compliment our course material and are required for course credit. This includes a visit to Shai Hills Game Reserve and the Asokombo Dam (which created the second largest man-made lake in the world) for my Geohazards & Natural Disasters class, and a day trip to the slave dungeons of Ghana for Warfare in the Modern Era.
And tomorrow Allie and I are doing a university exchange, where we’ll be having lunch with some local students who will hopefully be able to give us a great dinner recommendation (hooray in advance for fried plantains)!
Thoughts to follow.
Love. Anna
I have my first batch of FDPs (Faculty Directed Practica) coming up in Ghana. These are excursions created by my professors to compliment our course material and are required for course credit. This includes a visit to Shai Hills Game Reserve and the Asokombo Dam (which created the second largest man-made lake in the world) for my Geohazards & Natural Disasters class, and a day trip to the slave dungeons of Ghana for Warfare in the Modern Era.
And tomorrow Allie and I are doing a university exchange, where we’ll be having lunch with some local students who will hopefully be able to give us a great dinner recommendation (hooray in advance for fried plantains)!
Thoughts to follow.
Love. Anna
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Hooray for Reading Day!
Last night was our first talent show onboard the MV Explorer.
You would not believe how excited everyone got for this event!
People started lining up over an hour before it started to get good seats. We were waiting outside the union like packed sardines, shoulder to shoulder, shoving for a closer place next to the door (people really do crack me up sometimes).
Almost three hours and 28 acts later, we had had our fill of talent…ranging from funny to impressive to just plain ridiculous…but all applause-worthy nonetheless.
One of my favorites was a song performed by all the dependent children on board (many of the faculty have their families sailing with us, which means there are children ranging in age from 18 months to juniors in high school on board). They changed the words from “We All Live In A Yellow Submarine” to “ We Are Floating On A University”, and they each played a different instrument. (The little boy playing the cowbell was so incredibly adorable, he half killed me!)
My other favorite act (and by far the most touching of the night) was from a life long learner named Ray (you may remember him from an earlier post where I mentioned him and his wife Gretchen). Ray suffers from some condition (I wish I could remember the name…aphasia maybe?) where he has slowly lost the ability to verbally communicate. He has the words, but they won’t come out. Normally, he carries a pad of paper around on which he can write, but even that is becoming increasingly difficult for him with age. This is a truly devastating condition, as I know that Ray has so much to share with us. Well, little did we all know that Ray is a beautiful saxophone player! With his instrument in hand, Ray needs no words at all to express what he has within.
In other news, today is the first of several “reading days” we have throughout the semester (This is the title of all non-class days when at sea. Still not sure exactly how much reading gets done, but they’re wonderful all the same).
I let my lovely neighbors Madeline and Christina and my lovely roommate Allie drag me to my first Zumba class this morning.
For those of you unfamiliar with the Zumba movement, think Jazzercise with a heavy Latin flair (the basic movements of Zumba are rooted in the Latin dances). This was absolutely hilarious and potentially the most humiliating thing I’ve done in a long time…mostly for my lamentable lack of coordination and ability to move my hips. But I’m a thorough believer that small doses of humiliation are good for the soul every once in awhile, so gold star to me for sticking it out and for continually being able to laugh out loud when I turned the opposite direction as everyone else time and time again, right?
Happy Saturday, dear friends!
Love. Anna
You would not believe how excited everyone got for this event!
People started lining up over an hour before it started to get good seats. We were waiting outside the union like packed sardines, shoulder to shoulder, shoving for a closer place next to the door (people really do crack me up sometimes).
Almost three hours and 28 acts later, we had had our fill of talent…ranging from funny to impressive to just plain ridiculous…but all applause-worthy nonetheless.
One of my favorites was a song performed by all the dependent children on board (many of the faculty have their families sailing with us, which means there are children ranging in age from 18 months to juniors in high school on board). They changed the words from “We All Live In A Yellow Submarine” to “ We Are Floating On A University”, and they each played a different instrument. (The little boy playing the cowbell was so incredibly adorable, he half killed me!)
My other favorite act (and by far the most touching of the night) was from a life long learner named Ray (you may remember him from an earlier post where I mentioned him and his wife Gretchen). Ray suffers from some condition (I wish I could remember the name…aphasia maybe?) where he has slowly lost the ability to verbally communicate. He has the words, but they won’t come out. Normally, he carries a pad of paper around on which he can write, but even that is becoming increasingly difficult for him with age. This is a truly devastating condition, as I know that Ray has so much to share with us. Well, little did we all know that Ray is a beautiful saxophone player! With his instrument in hand, Ray needs no words at all to express what he has within.
In other news, today is the first of several “reading days” we have throughout the semester (This is the title of all non-class days when at sea. Still not sure exactly how much reading gets done, but they’re wonderful all the same).
I let my lovely neighbors Madeline and Christina and my lovely roommate Allie drag me to my first Zumba class this morning.
For those of you unfamiliar with the Zumba movement, think Jazzercise with a heavy Latin flair (the basic movements of Zumba are rooted in the Latin dances). This was absolutely hilarious and potentially the most humiliating thing I’ve done in a long time…mostly for my lamentable lack of coordination and ability to move my hips. But I’m a thorough believer that small doses of humiliation are good for the soul every once in awhile, so gold star to me for sticking it out and for continually being able to laugh out loud when I turned the opposite direction as everyone else time and time again, right?
Happy Saturday, dear friends!
Love. Anna
Friday, September 18, 2009
Taught Anew
The world is a complicated thing.
Bursting all at once with pain and beauty, abundance and brokenness.
I carry much of that with me.
In this beautifully painful world, it’s easy to forget how to hope. To forget the fullness of such a word.
And so I look for words that have been written or lives that have been lived to find some shred of instruction on how to hope again.
Tonight I learned once more from the greatest and most profound of teachers.
One single sunset on the open sea has the power to wipe away the numbness and apathy running rampant through this world, friends, I swear it.
The sun tangles it’s way through the clouds, plump and white as they are, casting a rosy-gold glow as it sets, and laying out a wide carpet of glitter on the surface of the water that catches itself in your eyelashes. The air is salty and thick and warm, and it blows your hair any direction it pleases, and you don’t refuse it…there’s no need to.
We stood patiently, Allie and I, with our chins resting on the lacquered wooden railing, bidding ado to each ray of sun as it went.
And I found myself filled. With gratitude and joy and most of all with great hope for tomorrow and all that it will bring.
Wherever you find yourself tonight, you watch that very same sun set. Smog and bank accounts and to-do lists aside, may it bring you the same great hope it brought me tonight…for tomorrow and all that it will unravel before it’s own setting sun.
Much Love. Anna
Bursting all at once with pain and beauty, abundance and brokenness.
I carry much of that with me.
In this beautifully painful world, it’s easy to forget how to hope. To forget the fullness of such a word.
And so I look for words that have been written or lives that have been lived to find some shred of instruction on how to hope again.
Tonight I learned once more from the greatest and most profound of teachers.
One single sunset on the open sea has the power to wipe away the numbness and apathy running rampant through this world, friends, I swear it.
The sun tangles it’s way through the clouds, plump and white as they are, casting a rosy-gold glow as it sets, and laying out a wide carpet of glitter on the surface of the water that catches itself in your eyelashes. The air is salty and thick and warm, and it blows your hair any direction it pleases, and you don’t refuse it…there’s no need to.
We stood patiently, Allie and I, with our chins resting on the lacquered wooden railing, bidding ado to each ray of sun as it went.
And I found myself filled. With gratitude and joy and most of all with great hope for tomorrow and all that it will bring.
Wherever you find yourself tonight, you watch that very same sun set. Smog and bank accounts and to-do lists aside, may it bring you the same great hope it brought me tonight…for tomorrow and all that it will unravel before it’s own setting sun.
Much Love. Anna
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Room With A View
Today I saw dolphins out my bedroom window.
There are some things you can only say once in a lifetime…and I’m thinking that’s one of them.
Somebody pinch me please.
Love. Anna
There are some things you can only say once in a lifetime…and I’m thinking that’s one of them.
Somebody pinch me please.
Love. Anna
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Uncovered
As a woman deeply fascinated by what comes to be deemed as both feminine and beautiful around this crazy world of ours, there’s no way I could resist a visit to Morocco without a small discussion of the veil.
As a general rule, bodies are covered in Morocco.
Many women cover their heads. Some cover their faces (with the exception of the eyes). Others (the minority) choose not to veil at all. Some women dress in all black. Others dawn brightly colored ensembles, with elegantly embroidered headscarves. The range is fascinating.
The idea of covering something has two main connotations for me. The first is to protect, safeguard or perhaps treasure and cherish (the way you tuck away dear letters from the past). The other is for reasons of shame and disgust and embarrassment (like a stain on the mattress or a messy room of the house).
The veil, in all its diversity, easily becomes a token symbol of the oppression and subordinate role of women in this region of the world (of course, there are many who would refute that statement). Indeed, it provoked many a comment from our own booty-short/spaghetti strap wearing clan on ship. Before porting, we were instructed to wear long sleeves and pants, and a great majority of our girls were scrambling to find something that would be appropriate for both weather and custom here in Morocco.
But as I was walking through the marketplace, observing the women in their extraordinary beauty, I kept thinking about the culture to which I was born, the one I call my own.
I chuckled a bit about how in many ways I felt more comfortable with the dress in this country as opposed to my own.
And I wondered.
I wondered if before a judgment can be passed on this culture, we might need a look at our own.
I wondered about the shame and inadequacy I so often battle when it comes to my body (and I know I’m not alone on that one).
I wondered if these carefully clothed women really felt protected and cherished in regards to their bodies? And I wondered how many of our own “liberated” women are free from disgust and embarrassment about their own?
I wonder that for all the ways the veil is seen as something foreign, concerning, and repressive, if our Victoria’s Secret display windows and 100 calorie packs (while not evil in and of themselves) are not another type of bondage, just as dangerous in it’s power to rob us of the ability to live as whole people; women comfortable in our own skin.
Perhaps for every woman on one side of the globe starving to see her culture changed or to let down her hair in the street, there’s a starving woman on the other side, belonging to a culture with attitudes towards women and their bodies that could use some unveiling of their own.
And then there was irony.
Love. Anna
As a general rule, bodies are covered in Morocco.
Many women cover their heads. Some cover their faces (with the exception of the eyes). Others (the minority) choose not to veil at all. Some women dress in all black. Others dawn brightly colored ensembles, with elegantly embroidered headscarves. The range is fascinating.
The idea of covering something has two main connotations for me. The first is to protect, safeguard or perhaps treasure and cherish (the way you tuck away dear letters from the past). The other is for reasons of shame and disgust and embarrassment (like a stain on the mattress or a messy room of the house).
The veil, in all its diversity, easily becomes a token symbol of the oppression and subordinate role of women in this region of the world (of course, there are many who would refute that statement). Indeed, it provoked many a comment from our own booty-short/spaghetti strap wearing clan on ship. Before porting, we were instructed to wear long sleeves and pants, and a great majority of our girls were scrambling to find something that would be appropriate for both weather and custom here in Morocco.
But as I was walking through the marketplace, observing the women in their extraordinary beauty, I kept thinking about the culture to which I was born, the one I call my own.
I chuckled a bit about how in many ways I felt more comfortable with the dress in this country as opposed to my own.
And I wondered.
I wondered if before a judgment can be passed on this culture, we might need a look at our own.
I wondered about the shame and inadequacy I so often battle when it comes to my body (and I know I’m not alone on that one).
I wondered if these carefully clothed women really felt protected and cherished in regards to their bodies? And I wondered how many of our own “liberated” women are free from disgust and embarrassment about their own?
I wonder that for all the ways the veil is seen as something foreign, concerning, and repressive, if our Victoria’s Secret display windows and 100 calorie packs (while not evil in and of themselves) are not another type of bondage, just as dangerous in it’s power to rob us of the ability to live as whole people; women comfortable in our own skin.
Perhaps for every woman on one side of the globe starving to see her culture changed or to let down her hair in the street, there’s a starving woman on the other side, belonging to a culture with attitudes towards women and their bodies that could use some unveiling of their own.
And then there was irony.
Love. Anna
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Winging It
For my Anthropology of Reproduction class, I have to give a presentation on infancy and breast-feeding in Morocco. I was really excited about this assignment, until I realized that we have a library the size of my kitchen (and apparently breast-feeding in Morocco isn’t the number one title they chose to carry on it’s shelves…can’t imagine why).
My professor reassured me that I could use my conversations and observations in port for the meat of my presentation, which I thought was a fabulous idea, until I got to Morocco, and realized it’s a lot harder to approach a pregnant, Arabic-speaking woman and ask her how she’s planning to feed her baby than I had originally thought.
So I got the brilliant idea to ask some questions of my male tour guide, Driz, who’s consequently the only strong English-speaking Moroccan I had consistent access to throughout my stay.
I decided to start by telling him that I wished there were a woman I could ask about these things…but I ended up telling him that I wished he were a woman.
Awkward times.
I was hoping we could laugh it off, but apparently Driz didn’t find that funny.
So I switched the topic to nomads and land policy. Problem is my presentation isn’t on nomads and land policy.
All this is to say that I should have great fun when I get up in front of the class tomorrow.
Let us hope the Internet and its article databases shine their favor on me.
Love. Anna
My professor reassured me that I could use my conversations and observations in port for the meat of my presentation, which I thought was a fabulous idea, until I got to Morocco, and realized it’s a lot harder to approach a pregnant, Arabic-speaking woman and ask her how she’s planning to feed her baby than I had originally thought.
So I got the brilliant idea to ask some questions of my male tour guide, Driz, who’s consequently the only strong English-speaking Moroccan I had consistent access to throughout my stay.
I decided to start by telling him that I wished there were a woman I could ask about these things…but I ended up telling him that I wished he were a woman.
Awkward times.
I was hoping we could laugh it off, but apparently Driz didn’t find that funny.
So I switched the topic to nomads and land policy. Problem is my presentation isn’t on nomads and land policy.
All this is to say that I should have great fun when I get up in front of the class tomorrow.
Let us hope the Internet and its article databases shine their favor on me.
Love. Anna
Monday, September 14, 2009
Farewell to Morocco
Note to reader: This post is long. And rather dry. My deepest apologies…it’s all my exhaustion level could muster for the moment. Hopefully there are more readable anecdotes to come.
Morocco.
Where to even find the words?
Morocco is a place all at once desolate and beautiful.
And I had quite the adventure in this desolately beautiful place.
One thing I never fully processed before I began my excursion was that standing in between Casablanca (where we ported) and the Sahara Desert (where the camels were waiting) is a little thing we like to call the Atlas Mountains.
The Atlas Mountains are home to the second highest peak on the continent of Africa.
And we had to drive over them. In a very large tour bus (that would be because two hundred of my best Semester at Sea friends decided they also wanted to ride camels in the Sahara).
This lovely drive over the Atlas Mountains takes over seven hours. I do hope you find this funny because one really has to laugh about such things.
But first things first.
We departed Casablanca on Thursday morning for Marrakech (a wonderful city, and consequently the most frequented destination for tourists). After a three-hour drive, we had lunch at this fantastic little place (the food in Morocco is AMAZING) and shopped around the marketplace.
While we were exploring the tiny streets lined with stalls, out of nowhere comes this torrential downpour. We ran for cover…but by the time everyone got back to the bus, we were hair-dripping, shirt-plastered-to-your-skin wet (yes, Mom, I left that lovely rain jacket on the ship. Never again, I promise you). We got to our hotel and had just enough time to wring our clothes dry before departing for our dinner and “fantasia show” (it sounds a lot funnier with a Moroccan accent). The show was about as nauseating a pre-packaged tourist trap as you could find. But I had a grand time in spite of it all because that’s what happens when you laugh at life and make the best of things.
Then early, oh-so-early the next morning, we set off on the long drive to Zagora.
About two hours in, I decided this whole semester wasn’t actually a study abroad experience, but rather a very expensive test to see who could withstand the most cruel and intense forms of motion sickness. The road was narrow and extremely curvy, but our very large tour bus took blind turn after blind turn fearlessly (Marie, my lovely friend, I was thinking of you often. You would have died..haha).
The coolest thing is that we got to drive through some of the most unique landscapes Morocco has to offer (sights that very few tourists get to see). We drove through rugged mountains that could rival any range in the U.S. for their beauty, lush valley floors where herds of goats were grazing, and remote Berber villages.
Three potty stops and seven hours later, we finally arrived in the middle-of-nowhere Zagora, and mounted our camels (hilarity ensued) and rode to our Bedouin camp for the night. While I’m sure this camp was edited for the comfort of our group, it was still not for the faint of heart. The tents smelled like camel urine, and I do believe I slept under the rankiest blanket of my entire life…but it was a once in a lifetime experience that I will never forget. When you’re in uninhabited desert land, the sunset is almost as beautiful as the Milky Way is when it’s finished. The nomads sang while a woman cooked fresh flat bread over the fire.
A very cold night later, we were headed back on our camels to the bus (I had the scariest camel behind me that Bryan named Chewbaka for the disturbing noise it made throughout our trek. I think it was an angsty adolescent). We then repeated the drive, stopping this time in the heart of the Moroccan film industry (where Lawrence of Arabia was filmed).
Back in Marrakech for the night, we were on our own for dinner (which is harder than you might think as a woman during Ramadan) and ended up at the most bizarre ex-pat restaurant/lounge called “The Yellow Sub”. Yes, it was entirely dedicated to the Beatles. Yes, there were giant sized murals on the walls. And yes, “Let It Be” was playing. Pretty hilarious.
The next morning we did some last minute running around in the heart of the marketplace before heading back to Casablanca.
Today we explored around Casablanca (which is as dirty and underdeveloped as it is famous), walked through the Medina, and had one last traditional Morocco mint tea (possibly the best beverage I have ever consumed. I’m addicted).
Because such a significant portion of my stay in Morocco was spent in its most rural parts, I can’t say I got a long enough taste of the city. But then this trip is full of trade-offs…for every one amazing thing you see, you’re missing another, which means that you hold tightly to your own experiences and say “until next time” for the rest.
Morocco is a place of such enormous intrigue for me. Should I ever get the chance, I will be returning.
Farewell, Morocco, as lovely and complicated as you are!
Love. Anna
Morocco.
Where to even find the words?
Morocco is a place all at once desolate and beautiful.
And I had quite the adventure in this desolately beautiful place.
One thing I never fully processed before I began my excursion was that standing in between Casablanca (where we ported) and the Sahara Desert (where the camels were waiting) is a little thing we like to call the Atlas Mountains.
The Atlas Mountains are home to the second highest peak on the continent of Africa.
And we had to drive over them. In a very large tour bus (that would be because two hundred of my best Semester at Sea friends decided they also wanted to ride camels in the Sahara).
This lovely drive over the Atlas Mountains takes over seven hours. I do hope you find this funny because one really has to laugh about such things.
But first things first.
We departed Casablanca on Thursday morning for Marrakech (a wonderful city, and consequently the most frequented destination for tourists). After a three-hour drive, we had lunch at this fantastic little place (the food in Morocco is AMAZING) and shopped around the marketplace.
While we were exploring the tiny streets lined with stalls, out of nowhere comes this torrential downpour. We ran for cover…but by the time everyone got back to the bus, we were hair-dripping, shirt-plastered-to-your-skin wet (yes, Mom, I left that lovely rain jacket on the ship. Never again, I promise you). We got to our hotel and had just enough time to wring our clothes dry before departing for our dinner and “fantasia show” (it sounds a lot funnier with a Moroccan accent). The show was about as nauseating a pre-packaged tourist trap as you could find. But I had a grand time in spite of it all because that’s what happens when you laugh at life and make the best of things.
Then early, oh-so-early the next morning, we set off on the long drive to Zagora.
About two hours in, I decided this whole semester wasn’t actually a study abroad experience, but rather a very expensive test to see who could withstand the most cruel and intense forms of motion sickness. The road was narrow and extremely curvy, but our very large tour bus took blind turn after blind turn fearlessly (Marie, my lovely friend, I was thinking of you often. You would have died..haha).
The coolest thing is that we got to drive through some of the most unique landscapes Morocco has to offer (sights that very few tourists get to see). We drove through rugged mountains that could rival any range in the U.S. for their beauty, lush valley floors where herds of goats were grazing, and remote Berber villages.
Three potty stops and seven hours later, we finally arrived in the middle-of-nowhere Zagora, and mounted our camels (hilarity ensued) and rode to our Bedouin camp for the night. While I’m sure this camp was edited for the comfort of our group, it was still not for the faint of heart. The tents smelled like camel urine, and I do believe I slept under the rankiest blanket of my entire life…but it was a once in a lifetime experience that I will never forget. When you’re in uninhabited desert land, the sunset is almost as beautiful as the Milky Way is when it’s finished. The nomads sang while a woman cooked fresh flat bread over the fire.
A very cold night later, we were headed back on our camels to the bus (I had the scariest camel behind me that Bryan named Chewbaka for the disturbing noise it made throughout our trek. I think it was an angsty adolescent). We then repeated the drive, stopping this time in the heart of the Moroccan film industry (where Lawrence of Arabia was filmed).
Back in Marrakech for the night, we were on our own for dinner (which is harder than you might think as a woman during Ramadan) and ended up at the most bizarre ex-pat restaurant/lounge called “The Yellow Sub”. Yes, it was entirely dedicated to the Beatles. Yes, there were giant sized murals on the walls. And yes, “Let It Be” was playing. Pretty hilarious.
The next morning we did some last minute running around in the heart of the marketplace before heading back to Casablanca.
Today we explored around Casablanca (which is as dirty and underdeveloped as it is famous), walked through the Medina, and had one last traditional Morocco mint tea (possibly the best beverage I have ever consumed. I’m addicted).
Because such a significant portion of my stay in Morocco was spent in its most rural parts, I can’t say I got a long enough taste of the city. But then this trip is full of trade-offs…for every one amazing thing you see, you’re missing another, which means that you hold tightly to your own experiences and say “until next time” for the rest.
Morocco is a place of such enormous intrigue for me. Should I ever get the chance, I will be returning.
Farewell, Morocco, as lovely and complicated as you are!
Love. Anna
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Going to the chapel...
Hi friends,
So I literally just got back from my camel trek a few minutes ago (more on that in the coming days) to discover that my breathtakingly beautiful sister is ENGAGED!!!!! Is that not the best thing you have heard in a long time?!? Oh, I am just bursting with excitement on this here ship!
I think that is the kind of sweet, celebration-worthy news that trumps any and all adventures, which is why I thought I would share it with you now. Feel free to join me in a happy dance around the room, if you feel so inclined.
Dearest Sarah, all those years of watching Father of the Bride growing up (I do hope you’ve booked Dad for the guacamole-making), and here it is your turn! I am crying such tears of joy for you from Morocco (and a few tears of sadness that I’m not there to celebrate with you. I am trying to keep those to a minimum, but I am your feeling sister after all). What exciting seasons ahead that we get to walk together! I have the deepest of loves for you, Sister, and it’s from the truest part of my being that I say congratulations to you and Scott.
Love. Anna
So I literally just got back from my camel trek a few minutes ago (more on that in the coming days) to discover that my breathtakingly beautiful sister is ENGAGED!!!!! Is that not the best thing you have heard in a long time?!? Oh, I am just bursting with excitement on this here ship!
I think that is the kind of sweet, celebration-worthy news that trumps any and all adventures, which is why I thought I would share it with you now. Feel free to join me in a happy dance around the room, if you feel so inclined.
Dearest Sarah, all those years of watching Father of the Bride growing up (I do hope you’ve booked Dad for the guacamole-making), and here it is your turn! I am crying such tears of joy for you from Morocco (and a few tears of sadness that I’m not there to celebrate with you. I am trying to keep those to a minimum, but I am your feeling sister after all). What exciting seasons ahead that we get to walk together! I have the deepest of loves for you, Sister, and it’s from the truest part of my being that I say congratulations to you and Scott.
Love. Anna
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Morocco Day
Today is affectionately called “Morocco Day” here on board.
This title stems from the fact that we only have a day, one day, between Spain and Morocco. What that basically means is that we have way too short a time to be properly debriefed and then rebriefed, and therefore are required to squish our cultural pre-port and our logistical pre-port (which we attend before arrival in every port of call) into one 24 hour period called “Morocco Day”.
This morning we heard a fantastic lecture about gender relations in the Muslim world given by an Iranian professor who teaches on board. Her lecture was by far my favorite of any academic seminar I’ve attended while at sea. This woman is so, so brilliant, and lacks nothing in terms of eloquence either. She talked with grace and dignity and intellect about the profound and cross-cultural significance of the freedom of movement for women, and that the specific lack of this freedom for Muslim women in certain regions has given rise to our modern (mis)conceptions of gender relations within the Islamic world. A wonderful and provocative lecture with which to roam the streets of Morocco.
The rest of today is full of meetings and briefings, and then tomorrow at 8am we arrive in Casablanca. I must admit that it was a little disconcerting when we arrived in Spain, after 520 college students had been cooped up on a ship for 8 days, and were then unleashed with their large lenses into the city. There were moments where I felt it was all rather invasive. Spain, however, (in all its graciousness) received us well. And I’m hoping the same will be true for Morocco. More than anything, I hope that we as Semester at Sea students will be adaptive and (of highest importance) respectful to the diverse array of cultures we come into contact with.
Oh, but Morocco holds some very exciting things, my friends!
I’m doing a four-day excursion to Marrakech and Zagora (where we’ll be taking a camel trek into the Sahara). If, following that adventure, I have not died of heat stroke or hypothermia, then I’ll be returning to Casablanca on our day of departure to explore the city with Allie.
To the best of my knowledge the Sahara desert isn’t set up with wifi, which means I’ll be out of touch again for just a few days. But after Morocco, we have a solid 8 days at sea before hitting Ghana, so that will give me a more generous amount of time to sleep, debrief, and of course, blog.
Miss you all tremendously much!
Love. Anna
This title stems from the fact that we only have a day, one day, between Spain and Morocco. What that basically means is that we have way too short a time to be properly debriefed and then rebriefed, and therefore are required to squish our cultural pre-port and our logistical pre-port (which we attend before arrival in every port of call) into one 24 hour period called “Morocco Day”.
This morning we heard a fantastic lecture about gender relations in the Muslim world given by an Iranian professor who teaches on board. Her lecture was by far my favorite of any academic seminar I’ve attended while at sea. This woman is so, so brilliant, and lacks nothing in terms of eloquence either. She talked with grace and dignity and intellect about the profound and cross-cultural significance of the freedom of movement for women, and that the specific lack of this freedom for Muslim women in certain regions has given rise to our modern (mis)conceptions of gender relations within the Islamic world. A wonderful and provocative lecture with which to roam the streets of Morocco.
The rest of today is full of meetings and briefings, and then tomorrow at 8am we arrive in Casablanca. I must admit that it was a little disconcerting when we arrived in Spain, after 520 college students had been cooped up on a ship for 8 days, and were then unleashed with their large lenses into the city. There were moments where I felt it was all rather invasive. Spain, however, (in all its graciousness) received us well. And I’m hoping the same will be true for Morocco. More than anything, I hope that we as Semester at Sea students will be adaptive and (of highest importance) respectful to the diverse array of cultures we come into contact with.
Oh, but Morocco holds some very exciting things, my friends!
I’m doing a four-day excursion to Marrakech and Zagora (where we’ll be taking a camel trek into the Sahara). If, following that adventure, I have not died of heat stroke or hypothermia, then I’ll be returning to Casablanca on our day of departure to explore the city with Allie.
To the best of my knowledge the Sahara desert isn’t set up with wifi, which means I’ll be out of touch again for just a few days. But after Morocco, we have a solid 8 days at sea before hitting Ghana, so that will give me a more generous amount of time to sleep, debrief, and of course, blog.
Miss you all tremendously much!
Love. Anna
Farewell to Spain
Oh friends, I find it highly ironic how much harder it is for me to write when I actually have things to share.
Spain has me absolutely smitten.
At ever corner café, down every cobble stone street, with every petite, old Spanish woman who offers you directions…you can’t help but feel charmed from your head to your toes.
The highlight of Spain was exploring Cadiz on the first day with Bryan, Pete, and Allie. We practically walked the whole Cadizian peninsula (thanks for the permission to make up adjectives), stopping along the way for cappuccinos, tapas, and a walk through the open-air market.
We were lucky enough to arrive early on Saturday morning. We woke up at 6:45am to Bryan (who’s our next door neighbor) pounding on our door and yelling that we had to get up and watch as we caught our first glimpse of Spain (and land after 8 days on the ocean). We hurried to the deck in our pajamas to find the sun rising just as we were pulling in to Cadiz.
We began walking the streets before the town had awakened (they must think we’re half crazy to be out and about at 8am). And very slowly, we watched the city rise from it’s slumber and come to life with the sound of chatter and cups hitting their saucers. On Saturdays, the streets are full of locals running their weekly errands by foot.
The following morning I began a two-day excursion to Sevilla (LOVE this city) and Cordoba. We toured all the historic places that you should when you’re visiting a historic place. This region of Spain in particular has a long, complicated, and intriguing history between Jews, Christians, and Muslims. The famous cathedrals we visited were most all at one time mosques, meanwhile the Jews helped build the mosques that are now cathedrals…a unique pastiche to be sure. We only got part of a day in Sevilla, and I needed more. Were I to do it over, I would’ve ditched Cordoba and spent more time in Sevilla (and also probably traveled apart from Semester at Sea), but overall no complaints. (I was in Spain, who are we kidding?!?)
This morning my roommate returned from her own Sevillian adventure, and woke me up to begin our last day in Cadiz. We got pastries and worked our way through the maze of city streets to the post office. We ended up taking a detour to the Spanish grocery store, attempting to spend the rest of our Euros, and stocking up on snacks and a few other necessities for the rest of our journey. (All this is far less graceful than it sounds by the way. We were stumbling through language barriers with sub-par Spanish and humiliating accents, giggling as we went) We returned to the ship for lunch (Quite the process! Every time you re-enter the ship, it involves a bag search, a pat down, and a walk through a metal detector) and had lunch (attempting to save pennies where we can). We then used the money we saved on lunch to catch a taxi to the beach, and stroll along the sand. It was a perfect, enchanting last day in Cadiz.
It would be foolish to think that you can port in a city for a week (or less) and fully understand the ground on which you stand. Centuries upon centuries of life have been lived and history been written in this place, and while I can’t claim to know every detail, I can say that I love what I’ve seen and heard and tasted.
Thank you, Spain, for the lovely time. Until we meet again!
Love. Anna
Spain has me absolutely smitten.
At ever corner café, down every cobble stone street, with every petite, old Spanish woman who offers you directions…you can’t help but feel charmed from your head to your toes.
The highlight of Spain was exploring Cadiz on the first day with Bryan, Pete, and Allie. We practically walked the whole Cadizian peninsula (thanks for the permission to make up adjectives), stopping along the way for cappuccinos, tapas, and a walk through the open-air market.
We were lucky enough to arrive early on Saturday morning. We woke up at 6:45am to Bryan (who’s our next door neighbor) pounding on our door and yelling that we had to get up and watch as we caught our first glimpse of Spain (and land after 8 days on the ocean). We hurried to the deck in our pajamas to find the sun rising just as we were pulling in to Cadiz.
We began walking the streets before the town had awakened (they must think we’re half crazy to be out and about at 8am). And very slowly, we watched the city rise from it’s slumber and come to life with the sound of chatter and cups hitting their saucers. On Saturdays, the streets are full of locals running their weekly errands by foot.
The following morning I began a two-day excursion to Sevilla (LOVE this city) and Cordoba. We toured all the historic places that you should when you’re visiting a historic place. This region of Spain in particular has a long, complicated, and intriguing history between Jews, Christians, and Muslims. The famous cathedrals we visited were most all at one time mosques, meanwhile the Jews helped build the mosques that are now cathedrals…a unique pastiche to be sure. We only got part of a day in Sevilla, and I needed more. Were I to do it over, I would’ve ditched Cordoba and spent more time in Sevilla (and also probably traveled apart from Semester at Sea), but overall no complaints. (I was in Spain, who are we kidding?!?)
This morning my roommate returned from her own Sevillian adventure, and woke me up to begin our last day in Cadiz. We got pastries and worked our way through the maze of city streets to the post office. We ended up taking a detour to the Spanish grocery store, attempting to spend the rest of our Euros, and stocking up on snacks and a few other necessities for the rest of our journey. (All this is far less graceful than it sounds by the way. We were stumbling through language barriers with sub-par Spanish and humiliating accents, giggling as we went) We returned to the ship for lunch (Quite the process! Every time you re-enter the ship, it involves a bag search, a pat down, and a walk through a metal detector) and had lunch (attempting to save pennies where we can). We then used the money we saved on lunch to catch a taxi to the beach, and stroll along the sand. It was a perfect, enchanting last day in Cadiz.
It would be foolish to think that you can port in a city for a week (or less) and fully understand the ground on which you stand. Centuries upon centuries of life have been lived and history been written in this place, and while I can’t claim to know every detail, I can say that I love what I’ve seen and heard and tasted.
Thank you, Spain, for the lovely time. Until we meet again!
Love. Anna
Monday, September 7, 2009
A Note to my Sequoia Girls
To my lovely architecture friends Maleesa and Kayla, (and dear Brita too, even though you’ve already been to Espana)
If only I could’ve fit you into my suitcase.
Spain was made for eyes like yours.
Promise me that you’ll come one day…and savor every tile and arch and delicately crafted ceiling.
Until then, I’m drunk on crown molding, and doing my best to take it all in for you.
Love. Anna
If only I could’ve fit you into my suitcase.
Spain was made for eyes like yours.
Promise me that you’ll come one day…and savor every tile and arch and delicately crafted ceiling.
Until then, I’m drunk on crown molding, and doing my best to take it all in for you.
Love. Anna
Friday, September 4, 2009
First Stop...
I wanted to get one more post in before I check out for a few days and go exploring all the wonderful things Spain has to offer.
Tomorrow (Saturday September 5), I’m exploring Cadiz in the morning with a few people, before we head back to the boat to meet for a city orientation. The following day (Sunday September 6) I depart in the morning for a two-day excursion to Sevilla and Cordoba, where we’ll be exploring all sorts of things including the Cathedral of Christendom (where Christopher Columbus’ tomb is located) and Mezquita (a famous mosque intended to surpass all other mosques in grandeur). Then on Tuesday (September 8) the plans are still unwritten…most likely whatever Allie and I can pack in before we have to be back on the boat that afternoon.
SO crazy. SO exciting. I can’t even believe it.
Happy early Labor Day, everyone!
Love. Anna
(p.s. You can be praying for the evening times. Those are generally the hardest for me.)
Tomorrow (Saturday September 5), I’m exploring Cadiz in the morning with a few people, before we head back to the boat to meet for a city orientation. The following day (Sunday September 6) I depart in the morning for a two-day excursion to Sevilla and Cordoba, where we’ll be exploring all sorts of things including the Cathedral of Christendom (where Christopher Columbus’ tomb is located) and Mezquita (a famous mosque intended to surpass all other mosques in grandeur). Then on Tuesday (September 8) the plans are still unwritten…most likely whatever Allie and I can pack in before we have to be back on the boat that afternoon.
SO crazy. SO exciting. I can’t even believe it.
Happy early Labor Day, everyone!
Love. Anna
(p.s. You can be praying for the evening times. Those are generally the hardest for me.)
Shipboard Fare
Almost every email I’ve received has contained a question asking in some way or another about the food aboard ship, and it’s probably good to get the basics of ship food out of the way before we reach Spain. You should know that this will inevitably be the first of many, many posts about food (particularly when in port) because…
(A) I think there is something deeply profound and very sacred about being fed.
(B) Food is an incredibly informative medium used in orienting yourself to a culture, a people, and a way of life.
And,
(C) Because I love food and I find it to be something worthy of celebration.
The best way I can communicate to you about food onboard the MV Explorer is to think about the boat as a university or a floating campus, which essentially serves campus food. There are two dining rooms that are open for all three meals (served at the same set times everyday). They are set up buffet style, always with a “salad” bar, which is lettuce set out with two other of the following options: tomatoes, celery, shredded carrots, bell peppers, or if they’re really feeling crazy, green olives. There’s always a meat option (Sarah, you’d be very glad to know that they are appropriately portioned at 4oz each), a pasta option, and typically a fish option too. And the chef loves his potatoes. We have some form of potatoes at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I’ve also noticed a lot of garbanzo beans (love it) in various dishes, which somehow always reminds me of Papa and the bean salad he would always make at family get-togethers.
And there is always a PB&J station. I haven’t felt the need to use it yet, but many people have. The food is fine. No real complaints yet.
The BEST part of mealtime is the dining room crew. They are wonderful! Our crew on the ship is from all around the world (almost all men), and at meal times they greet you, pour you your drink, and pretty much make your day with their smiles, their jokes, and their kindness.
We port in Spain at 8am tomorrow morning, and I couldn’t be more ready (except for the minor detail that I packed totally wrong for this trip and will probably traipse around Spain looking like I’m trying to avoid malaria in a remote village in Ghana…but what can you do?), and can’t wait to share with you some of their delicacies. Our pre-port lecturer from Spain last night said that Spanish ham is so good; it’ll make you cry. I’ll let you know on that one.
Goodbye for now, dear friends. I’m missing you all, and hoping in many ways that this evening finds you well fed.
Anna
(A) I think there is something deeply profound and very sacred about being fed.
(B) Food is an incredibly informative medium used in orienting yourself to a culture, a people, and a way of life.
And,
(C) Because I love food and I find it to be something worthy of celebration.
The best way I can communicate to you about food onboard the MV Explorer is to think about the boat as a university or a floating campus, which essentially serves campus food. There are two dining rooms that are open for all three meals (served at the same set times everyday). They are set up buffet style, always with a “salad” bar, which is lettuce set out with two other of the following options: tomatoes, celery, shredded carrots, bell peppers, or if they’re really feeling crazy, green olives. There’s always a meat option (Sarah, you’d be very glad to know that they are appropriately portioned at 4oz each), a pasta option, and typically a fish option too. And the chef loves his potatoes. We have some form of potatoes at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I’ve also noticed a lot of garbanzo beans (love it) in various dishes, which somehow always reminds me of Papa and the bean salad he would always make at family get-togethers.
And there is always a PB&J station. I haven’t felt the need to use it yet, but many people have. The food is fine. No real complaints yet.
The BEST part of mealtime is the dining room crew. They are wonderful! Our crew on the ship is from all around the world (almost all men), and at meal times they greet you, pour you your drink, and pretty much make your day with their smiles, their jokes, and their kindness.
We port in Spain at 8am tomorrow morning, and I couldn’t be more ready (except for the minor detail that I packed totally wrong for this trip and will probably traipse around Spain looking like I’m trying to avoid malaria in a remote village in Ghana…but what can you do?), and can’t wait to share with you some of their delicacies. Our pre-port lecturer from Spain last night said that Spanish ham is so good; it’ll make you cry. I’ll let you know on that one.
Goodbye for now, dear friends. I’m missing you all, and hoping in many ways that this evening finds you well fed.
Anna
Thursday, September 3, 2009
2 more days and 30 little friends
I signed up awhile back to adopt a classroom in my home region through a program called “Vicarious Voyage”.
Today we had a meeting, and I got my assignment.
I’m adopting the third grade class of an elementary school in South Central, L.A. and the idea is that these students get to live this journey vicariously through me. I will send the class emails, postcards, and three stuffed envelopes throughout my trip full of menus, pictures, pamphlets, maps, etc. of different things I’ve eaten, people I’ve met, and places I’ve been, and also different facts about the culture.
And then they’ll write me back.
I don’t know about you…but there are few things more wonderful than the crooked, nonsensical writing of a third grader’s hand.
I’m pretty excited for my thirty new pen pals, AND for the fact that I get to set foot in Spain in TWO DAYS. Dear solid ground, how lovely you are!
Most exciting.
Love. Anna
Today we had a meeting, and I got my assignment.
I’m adopting the third grade class of an elementary school in South Central, L.A. and the idea is that these students get to live this journey vicariously through me. I will send the class emails, postcards, and three stuffed envelopes throughout my trip full of menus, pictures, pamphlets, maps, etc. of different things I’ve eaten, people I’ve met, and places I’ve been, and also different facts about the culture.
And then they’ll write me back.
I don’t know about you…but there are few things more wonderful than the crooked, nonsensical writing of a third grader’s hand.
I’m pretty excited for my thirty new pen pals, AND for the fact that I get to set foot in Spain in TWO DAYS. Dear solid ground, how lovely you are!
Most exciting.
Love. Anna
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Deep Breaths
If I have less hair when I return home then when I started on this journey, blame it on the Internet aboard.
It’s slow. And frustrating. And slow. Like living in a nightmarish version of technology via 1998. (Well maybe not THAT bad, right Jenny?)
I know that the limited access technology is a really good, intentional thing. Slowly it’s going to teach me the disciplines of breathing deeper and listening better and living more fully.
But there’s a withdrawal period.
If you’d like to help me through that, then you can send me emails at acclauson@semesteratsea.net (instead of my old address). This is my email aboard ship, and it’s one hundred percent FREE. Isn’t that a lovely piece of news? I think so.
Aladdin’s on tonight. It’s big news, I’m not gonna lie.
Love. Anna
It’s slow. And frustrating. And slow. Like living in a nightmarish version of technology via 1998. (Well maybe not THAT bad, right Jenny?)
I know that the limited access technology is a really good, intentional thing. Slowly it’s going to teach me the disciplines of breathing deeper and listening better and living more fully.
But there’s a withdrawal period.
If you’d like to help me through that, then you can send me emails at acclauson@semesteratsea.net (instead of my old address). This is my email aboard ship, and it’s one hundred percent FREE. Isn’t that a lovely piece of news? I think so.
Aladdin’s on tonight. It’s big news, I’m not gonna lie.
Love. Anna
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Learners for a Lifetime
There are about 30 or so “life-long learners” on board with us, with an age range from about 60 to 80 years old. They sit in on our classes and discussions and shipboard activities, and even dine with us in the same dining room. They’re a special bunch, I can tell already.
I’m still awaiting my adoption by one of them (SAS facilitates an “extended family” program onboard).
But I did get to have lunch with Gretchen and her husband Ray the other day. This is their fifth voyage with SAS as life-long learners. She is an expert on all things Semester at Sea, and a self-proclaimed Facebook addict. She gave me four very wise pieces of advice that I thought I would pass along to you all in hopes that you might receive them with as wide a smile as I did.
#1 Think positive. (Her recommended cure for seasickness. She swears by it.)
#2 Don’t get drunk. (But she’s not watching.)
#3 Don’t have unprotected sex. (She didn’t elaborate on this one. I’m thinking I’m okay with that.)
#4 Don’t leave your fingers in the door jam. (The heavy doors onboard eat fingers for lunch.)
Rules that more post-adolescent/pre-adults could stand to hear from a sweet little one like Gretchen every once in awhile, don’t you think? ; )
I love the flair these folks add the to the atmosphere of our ship. They ask good questions, give great answers, and look out for the fingers of the younger of us aboard ship.
I’m still awaiting my adoption by one of them (SAS facilitates an “extended family” program onboard).
But I did get to have lunch with Gretchen and her husband Ray the other day. This is their fifth voyage with SAS as life-long learners. She is an expert on all things Semester at Sea, and a self-proclaimed Facebook addict. She gave me four very wise pieces of advice that I thought I would pass along to you all in hopes that you might receive them with as wide a smile as I did.
#1 Think positive. (Her recommended cure for seasickness. She swears by it.)
#2 Don’t get drunk. (But she’s not watching.)
#3 Don’t have unprotected sex. (She didn’t elaborate on this one. I’m thinking I’m okay with that.)
#4 Don’t leave your fingers in the door jam. (The heavy doors onboard eat fingers for lunch.)
Rules that more post-adolescent/pre-adults could stand to hear from a sweet little one like Gretchen every once in awhile, don’t you think? ; )
I love the flair these folks add the to the atmosphere of our ship. They ask good questions, give great answers, and look out for the fingers of the younger of us aboard ship.
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