• Stepping off the shuttle that brought us out of the harbor area was like putting your feet in those “cleaning tanks” with fish that nip at your skin. Not sure what I mean by that? Well I step down the bus stairs and am swarmed (first fish reference), then I find every piece of my exposed clothing being pulled at (fish reference #2), then you walk away and they follow, some of them still managing to cling onto your fabric, some get lost in the crowd or attach themselves to the next tourist (fish reference #3), and finally once you past an invisible threshold, only one or two remain. Who are these people you may be asking? Rickshaw drivers.
• Rickshaw driver: (n) a man whose occupation consists of driving a 3 wheeled golf cart (see def. Rickshaw) as a means of getting tourists from point A to point B in the most inefficient manner possible. More likely than not, stopping at a few stores along the way with the assertion that it is where the tourist really wants to go, or that it is inexpensive. Neither which is true (they get commission, you see). English phases used most often: “One quick stop!” “yes, very cheap” and “no, no, no, no 150 EACH”. Generally a combination of amusement and frustration is elicited from the passengers.
• My SAS trip: Dakshina Chitra Heritage Village. I’ll give you the honors of looking that one up on their website: artofliving.org
• For me it consisted of 16 hours of breathing exercises and meditation. And when the trip description says: “Comfortable accommodations with the right ambiance are provided at the popular tourist center,” they mean cockroach filled cots lined up next to one another with a sheet and something they refer to as a pillow (though in the states I think we call it furless road kill whose rigge mortus is setting in).
• Contrary to how it sounds when I describe it, I found it rejuvenating. I thought that meditating would be like that frustrating time of night when you are ready to fall asleep, but you find yourself still awake 2 hours later and you dare not look at the clock because then you’ll redo the math and realize that you only have 5 hrs of sleep left. But then you realize that you have to pee, just a little, but you know that with that feeling it’ll be even harder to fall asleep. So you cave in, and pull the covers off. And against your will, your eyes wander and sneak a peek at the clock and your brain is all over that math like a fat kid and a bowl of ice cream. 4 hours. Great. WELL meditation wasn’t like that at all. It was very relaxing and entrancing. I found myself snowboarding down a hill for the better half of 2 hours on one occasion and not once did I think about the GRE!
• I also ate vegetarian India food for the 3 days that I was at the heritage village, and took a bucket shower and used squat toilets. You wouldn’t believe how excited I get when I see a dirty old nasty seat toilet with 4 squares of tp left, TMI? Sorry, but seriously, perspective folks, everything is relative.
• So India was great even if I did see the Taj. I did see a bunch of adorable wild monkeys. My mom and I laughed when my travel medicine doc circled “monkey bites” under the India section of the fat packets she gave me before I left. But, as cruel humor tends to reveal itself, someone did get bit, eek!
• Oh! And even though I still don’t like India food, I ate at an “oriental” restaurant the first day and had some amazing southeastern Asian food. Horizons are broadening people, alert the masses. (aka people like Andi and Anna hehe)
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
IN two three four, HOLD two three four, OUT two three four five six, HOLD two, again!
Spring Break 2010: Mauritius
Getting back in chronological order...
• To get from the place we docked to the rest of the land, we took motor boat taxis. Pretty legit.
• KFC with chicken that tastes suspiciously of fish (it is an island after all so I can’t blame ‘em)
• Pride of a bird that has been extinct for…like hundreds of years or something (1600’s maybe? Apparently this bird is not as important to me as it is to the Mauritians) The Dodo bird in case you were wondering. They market the sh** out of this unimpressive, but more importantly nonexistent, bird to tourists.
• I went on the best hike of my life to a waterfall. It wasn’t one of those “cross back and forth on a small dirt path slowly up the mountain” types. We were hacking our way through brush, jumping over streams, and bouldering up rocks covered in loose dirt. SO much fun. And the reward? A beautiful waterfall, ending in a clear pool of water. I sat in a cave behind the water falling down and watched the rainbow flowing back and forth across the waterfall. Breathe taking.
• Went to a hotel at night along a beautiful beach.
o Sandy heels
o Rock cut feet
o Unnaturally colored cocktails
o A night to remember (and for many one that is going to be tucked nicely in the trunk in their heads labeled: “Warning: Do not open)
• Successful little Spring Break in the middle of a sobering and eye-opening experience.
• Not honeymoon worthy though
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
SingaWorld
Singapore apparently went from a 3rd world country to a 1st world country during the last 40 years. At the cultural pre-port (the one hour presentation the night before we arrive in a country where a local talks about their hometown--what the traffic is like, what food is good, and tries to make awkward jokes about prostitution)…okay that was such a long parenthesis that I will start that sentence over. At the cultural pre-port they explained to us how this transformation took place. It sounded sort of like they took a lot of highly educated business people from around the world and had them come to work at Singapore and thus upped the GDP there, and also something about becoming a center of Eastern trade and some other mumbo jumbo. My analysis: they created SingaWorld, an international attraction that takes tourists’ money. Now this isn’t the official name of the international attraction that is Singapore, but I thought it had a nice ring to it. If you like Disneyworld/land or Universal Studios, overpriced rides, 3D “terrorizing shows” and the like, then you’ll definitely enjoy Singapore. In fact, they even have a branch of Universal Studios. AND they have a “ride” (or 20 minute movie) in 4-D! My friend Brian and I looked at each other a little confused. With furrowed brows he said what we were both thinking, “but the fourth dimension is time”. A few moments passed and I finally proclaimed, “OH! It’s just real life!” He looked at me puzzled (I guess he missed my sarcasm) and so I explained further that maybe you pay your $40 (each) and walk into a room that has another door on the other end with a sign that says “prepare yourselves for 4D!” and the unsuspecting tourists walk through the door and, wait for it, ENTER THE REAL WORLD. Imagine that! Sounds fascinating. But considering that Brian and I had just spent 20 bucks to ride a gondola to get to this island in a “Jeweled Tran”, which ended up being the exact same thing as the ones we ride in Tahoe but with a touch screen T.V. in it showing you all the amazing attractions you will be about to see, we couldn’t justify partaking in any of them. Even walking to the top of this giant lion sculpture (called a Merlion--google it) cost 10 bucks. ANYWAY, besides the disappointment that Singapore isn’t really much of a country country, it was kind of cool to see how hi-tech and absolutely CLEAN it was. Especially in contrast to India.
SingaWorld has a few things going for it. It’s the safest place on Earth! What a great and original catch-phrase, eh? Disneyland, Happiest place on Earth; SingaWorld, Safest place on Earth…I guess it’s one of those “had to be there” or “had to have visited there” kind of jokes. Anyway, Singapore is so strict about littering and spitting on the ground and chewing gum and such that it’s spotless as well. I didn’t see a single pot hole. Also, they have some of the highest paid politicians in the world (their president equivalent makes 2.75 million a year, compared to Obama’s $400,000) and consequently, the lowest rates of corruption. But while they seem to be very modernized and civil, guess what their punishment for compromising the modesty of a woman (i.e. whistling at her)? I hear jail time, fine, and the gentleman in the back said “trick question”, well you are all wrong. The answer is caning. How does this work you might ask. Well they have “caning rooms” at their police departments. Let’s say you are sentenced to 5 canings. Well you first go to a physician’s room and they check you out, to make sure you are in good enough health to be caned. Then, presuming you are, you go to the caning room when you are asked to remove all your clothes. Then you bend over, bum out and are striked by the caner 5 times in a row. To make matters worse, it is actually against the law for the caner to hold back at all. So now your bum is throbbing in pain and you might need more medical attention or bandages because you are bleeding. Oh, and good luck sitting down for the next couple weeks. Sounds kind of primitive right?
Remember when, I think it was Clinton, who took a “get tough” policy on drugs (because his childhood days of smoking weed became public and he wanted to cover his un-caned bum), well let’s take a look and how Singapore handles their druggies. Let’s take for example, someone who has half an ounce of weed on them. For those of you unfamiliar with the weight of weed, that’s like $200 worth (sources tell me). So you get caught with it and arrested (same as the states) but now what happens. A fine, jail time, trick question? WRONG! Death. Or if you are really really lucky, life in prison, and a whole lot of caning.
So Singapore was an interesting place full of Prada and Exploratoriums, and zip lines, and roller coasters. But we were only there for a day and a half, so I liked it. I just don’t think I’m going back. Unless I plan on becoming a politician. Then there’s a chance ;-)
I nearly forgot. I did one more touristy, Disneyland type of adventure. A night safari drive at the Singapore Zoo with a Halloween theme. I saw a ton of animals that are nocturnal and got “pee-my-pants” scared (okay so maybe I exaggerated my screams a bit for the entertainment of my fellow jeep riders, but they really did do a great job in their make-up and surreptitious behavior--they even grabbed you unsuspectingly). The buffet style dinner had Indian, Singaporean and Chinese cuisine and wow did I forget how much I love teriyaki beef skewers and kung pow chicken! I can’t even fathom how amazing Taco Bell will taste when my mom picks me up in San Diego with a soft taco and a nacho cheese chalupa (extra beef) in hand.
Sorry: Out Of Order
These signs are so annoying to read on vending machines when you’re craving Cheetos and Sprite, and even more so on the only bathroom available on a 5 hour stretch of highway. But at least, for those things, there is the silver lining that one day (presumably soon) it will be fixed and someone just like you will walk up to that vending machine or bathroom and use it problem-free. Unfortunately, in the manner for which I am using it in my blog, it will never be fixed for I am using it for its literal meaning. The next blog you read is for Singapore. BUT as you might have guessed, I’ve been to Mauritius AND India between S. Africa and Singapore. But I am writing my blogs out of order. Mostly because… okay I actually can’t think of a good excuse at the moment, but just accept it and move on. Read about Singapore, and then tomorrow, or when I get a chance I will write about Mauritius then India, then Vietnam (since I’ll be there in 8 hrs!!). So don’t go getting your panties in a bunch when you see that the next blog is Singapore. I gave you fair warning. Enjoy!
Monday, October 25, 2010
Afrikan at Heart
It has been called to my attention that this blog didn't get through the first time, however I have in my "sent" box proof that I did send it to my blogspot via email, so I blame SAS (as usual). Mauritius to come tomorrow. And I'm halfway through my India visit. Time is a curious matter.
So, South Africa was the port that I was probably the most excited about before embarking on this voyage. I was actually was planning on going abroad during winter quarter to the new Stanford overseas program at Cape Town. But during last winter quarter when everyone was finding out where they would be studying abroad in the Fall I had an “oh shit” moment. I realized that many of my friends would be off campus, I wasn’t going to get very good housing because I was using my tier 3 housing lottery number and it just sounded lonely. But all the deadlines had passed for applying to be abroad in the Fall. That’s when I came across Semester at Sea and fell in love with the idea. And even though I was excited that I was going to get the opportunity to visit 11 countries, I still had a burning desire to get to South Africa. But then Morocco and Ghana blew my mind and I tried to convince myself that I was just excited to get to Africa. But I didn’t fully convince myself as evidence by my giddiness on the ship sailing to Cape Town.
I had a safari the first 3 days and nothing planned for the last 3. My group was actually the first to get off the ship and step onto South African soil (or pavement, or whatever). I kind of wish I had run to the front of the group so I could be the first off, but being the 15th person off the ship out of 800 still felt pretty cool. So we were off to the airport to go to Kariega Game Reserve (I bet there is a website if you want to see our standard of living- which was unbelievable by the way in case you are too lazy to type that into google). And guess who was at the airport?! Rugby players! Okay maybe that’s only really cool to me, but my mom made me watch Invictus before leaving for SAS. And there were pictures of Nelson Mandela at the airport and holy cow did that movie do a great job at Morgan’s make-up! Anyway, it was all a pretty unreal experience, and I hadn’t even seen any animals yet!
So the safari. Well actually one more thing about the plane ride. Turns out that South African’s aren’t as cheap as American’s when it comes to complementary food on planes and we had amazing juice boxes and yummy meat sandwiches. That was the way there at least. On the way back we had some kind of meat sandwich that was florescent opal in some areas. I took a picture to prove it because I was a little shocked and didn’t think you all would believe me. It kind of looked like the inside of a muscle shell on the beach. Anyway, that was weird, but off topic. The animals. So we dined like royalty, buffet style with all kinds of foods, and PIZZA. I also tried ostrich and alligator, neither of which I’m a fan of, but at least I tried it! My sister is probably shaking her head right now in disbelief, but hey, when in Africa right?
Well, then we went on a game drive. Our tour guide, Timbre (or at least that’s what it sounded like) was a very nice, but serious type of guy. He told us right away that we might not see every animal we want to. They are in their natural habitat and we have to track them. If we were disappointed about that, we should have gone to a zoo. I liked his attitude. I was not signing up to see lions in fake plastic rock beds behind a fence. So we start driving along the dirt road and on one side of the reserve were the giraffes, impala, zebra, wildebeest, water buffalo, and some others that I can’t think of at the moment. On the other side were the lions, elephants, rhinos, hippos, and food for the lions (more impala and such). Over the course of the 3 days I saw all of those animals! Sadly, the first night I didn’t feel so good after the food and went to bed early but didn’t sleep much, and when I did I’m fairly positive I dreamt of Pepto-Bismol. So I missed the morning game drive and didn’t get to see the warthogs which is actually upsetting since I had just rewatched Lion King a couple days before (greatest decision of my life, I swear) and I really wanted to see Pumba. Oh well, I still had a great time and got to see the lions and the cubs, who were like teenagers in size. It was definitely a once in a life time experience that I want to have again someday.
Every morning was a 5am wake up call, and we were up late seeing nocturnal animals, so I was really tired the day I got back to the ship, but still managed to walk around Green Square Market and get some really cool crafts. I’m stalking up on gifts for Christmas and I’m really excited about my purchases from the market. The people are so nice and pretty fun to bargain with. It’s a fine line between getting the price lower, and not robbing them of the little money that they do make. It’s also good to get out there early in the trip because SAS takes over every city we go to and the locals learn that they can actually get a lot more money out of us than then usual European tourists.
The last most exciting thing I did was pet a Cheetah! Sadly, all of my friends had safaris the last 3 days so I really didn’t know anyone who was around Cape Town when I got back, so I probably didn’t “do Cape Town” right. I couldn’t safely travel on my own and it literally was like everyone I even just sort of knew (like well enough to tag along with them) was gone. So I didn’t get to go to Boulder Beach which was crawling with penguins, and I didn’t get to go to the aquarium, etc. But I did do one more SAS trip to a Cheetah reserve. And surprisingly, I think the best part about it was the owls! They are my new favorite animal. The Cheetahs were majestic don’t get me wrong, and learning about how endangered they are was moving and petting one was mind-blowing, but the owls. They were so soft and so loving and SOO cute. Some of them looked like Hedwig (Harry Potter reference for you deprived adults) and one was only a month or two old and still covered in its fluffy feathers. They were just all over these tables for us to pet and hold and I can’t even describe how cool it was. Then we put on a garden glove and learned about birds of prey and they landed on us! Someone even got a video of this hawk like bird landing on me and me petting it.
I am so lucky.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Halfway Away From YOU
To my lovely west coast readers, I just wanted to let you know that we officially read the same time on our analog clocks. (Note to younger readers, analog means the ones that are hard to read, if you invested in a digital one so that you wouldn't be wearing glasses like your adult counterparts (ie parents) then we still read the same time, but you might have a dot near a marking indicating "PM" while that dot isn't on my close right now.)
I also wanted to mention that the South Africa blog post is coming soon, tomorrow soon, I've been a little under the weather (quite literally in some respects, more on that later) and have been busy getting 100%'s on my two tests WOOT WOOT. But as my old babysitter used to say (or actually Tigger.. but I'll give her the cred) Ta-ta for now!
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Ghana Returns
Day 2: I woke up early after a good (long) night’s rest and packed up for my SAS trip. We were going headed to an amazing hotel that was more like a full-fledged resort and were treated to a supreme meal of Ghanaian food and lots and lots of Fanta. Turns out, most of the world enjoys bottled Fanta like we drink Hi-C (or is that just me who drinks that at Taco Bell mixed with some Baja Blast! Mountain Dew? Yeah maybe just me) and like Mexico drinks Tequila. We sat under an overhang with a pool and bar area to our left, our rooms to our right, and overlooking a sandy beach and ocean waves. So this is what paradise is! After our bellies were full, we loaded back onto the bus to head to Kakum National Park to walk amongst the canopies of the trees on a thin, rickety, wooden bridge. Oh you thought I meant thin like 3 feet wide! No, no, no, I’m sorry let me clarify. We walked on a series of really long planks of wood. So we’re talking 6 inches wide. Now mom, once again I am going to have to save you from a heart attack. On either side of this “bridge” (or sorry excuse for one) nets extended past the height of my waist which allowed me to have no fears about stepping out over the trees, some 40 meters high and…RUN! We walked across at least 7 of these bridges in the rain forest; get this, while it was RAINING. Now that’s a rain forest. Ghana just does not know how to disappoint. The view was breath taking--looking out AND looking down (and across and side to side and backwards and upwards…). Well it started raining the moment we stepped foot out of the bus, so naturally it stopped raining the moment we stepped foot back on the bus.
Yet another unbelievable native dish was served for dinner (I’m actually enjoying the food, look at me mommy, all grown up!) and a bon fire on the beach followed. The ambiance reminded me of a mix between Stanford Sierra Camp’s Wednesday night family camp fire and again, Survivor. We stripped our shoes and walked about ten feet into the ocean and climbed up on some rocks that revealed themselves during low tide. We stood, chatted some, but mostly just tried to absorb the pure and utter awesomeness of where our lives had brought us. You could see it in people’s faces, in their stance and in their voice: dream-like delight. After we climbed back ashore, dessert was served--some kind of amazing tasting ice cream with strawberries and watermelon at the bottom--while some Ghanaian dancers and musicians entertained us with African dance and music, AND fire breathing. The dancers wore hay skirts, much like the ones Hawaiian hula dancers wear, but let me tell you, they were still pure MAN. In the black of the night their bare chests camouflaged and their lean muscles glistened with sweat in the firelight. These guys were all strength. They jumped and shock and flipped and spun and NEVER stopped moving. Unbelievable! Honestly dumbfounded. Please scoop my jaw off the floor. These kids were talented.
Sadly, I need to wake up in 4 hours for my Safari in South Africa! And thus the third installment of this Ghana blog will be coming soon. But for now: To Be Continued :-P
Friday, October 1, 2010
Ghana: Snails, Slave Dungeons, Street Soccer--Sensational
Day 1: I get off the boat at 11am with a group of friends. We start walking in the direction of “downtown” and within a few minutes the humidity and sun take their toll and everyone is sweating. But no less excited. I think a lot of us were excited because we knew the price of everything was going to be a fifth of what we are used to paying, and because we are finally going to get to see Africa the way it is depicted on T.V. But no television show or movie could have prepared me for the real thing. It was a long walk into town but well worth it. The sweat in our hair and dirt on our skin was actually probably a good thing since it made us stick out just a tad bit less. Granted I have blonde hair and white skin in a country where Black is black, not the mix of races we are used to seeing in the US. So yeah I stuck out. It reminded me of Europe when I was younger and the waiters would rub my head, excited to see the stark contrast of natural blonde hair from their own, and not on a rebel teen trying to look American. Anyway, I can’t even describe the scenery but think: Africa. Housing was unassuming, the bare minimum. Women were on the sidewalks cooking meat or frying plantains. And then men didn’t holler at the girl tourists like they did in Morocco. No harassing, just smiles. When we got further into the town people only became friendlier. The people at the banks, the people on the streets, the cab drivers—everyone was just so willing to take some time out of their day and talk to the new comers. Sometimes if they didn’t speak English they would just shoot us phrases like, “Yay Obama” or “New York, California, Florida!”
One young man who started talking to us decided that he was going to show us around in the market. If I thought the medinas in Marrakesh were a maze and fascinating, boy was I in for a surprise. Again, no one harassed us. They just kept cutting up their meet or peeling their fruit or laying out their (massive) snails and fish heads for the locals to buy. This was not a tourist attraction. This was their life. We walked and walked and got deeper into the thick of it all. There were so many little kids and they all smiled and waved enthusiastically. And all the girls and women over the age of about 10 carried huge baskets on their heads, both hands free to use. I was in awe the entire time. I knew from the first hour of stepping foot on Ghana soil that I was coming back. And then, later, when we took a lunch break, I met some kids, boys about 8 or 9 playing in the street with an orange. It rolled my way and I stood up and kicked it back to one of them and then ran to get open again as the other boys bee hived around the orange. “Quick, quick, I’m open!” I yelled. Turns out soccer is a universal language and the boy in the yellow shirt was on my team. And we made a stellar team. We took on the others and avoided the cab drivers we finesse. It was soooo much fun! 3 more days, bring it on!
Sadly, I need to break this blog up into 2 parts. I have a lot of work to do and need to allocate time better. The next couple days I was on an SAS trip, the Cape Coast Historical Tour. We went on a canopy walk in a rain forest (or ON a rain forest since we were at the top of the trees!) and saw castles and slave dungeons and walked on a beach covered in, get ready for it, human feces! Stories to tell, just hang in there :D
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Evenin' Readers
Or for some of you it may be mid-afternoon, or somewhere around there. But for me its late. Night time, sleepy time, squeeze in one more movie for the day time, etc, etc.
I have so much to report on my journey through Ghana. Sadly, you will have to wait until after my first test in a couple of days to get the detes. If I tried to write now, I wouldn't be giving it justice. So far the countries have been getting more and more phenomenal. I can't wait to go back to Ghana in the future :)
Talk to you all soon!
Monday, September 20, 2010
Lost At Sea
Oh where oh where did my blog post go? Oh where oh where did it go? It’s probably in an old green wine bottle floating across the Atlantic back to the States, but that could take awhile, so ‘til then I’ll catch you up on the happenings at sea.
Well, Morocco was amazing. I want to go back. For some reason I think I’m going to like the poorer countries more than the “developed” ones. What would be the point of traveling to new places if you still ate at the Hard Rock Café and shopped at H&M (both of which were in Spain)? In Casablanca and Marrakesh there were these medinas, which would be like a flea market or bizarre in the US. They are very culturally rich places and a great spot for people watching. Well male people watching to be more specific since the local women are mysteriously absent. I actually found them while walking through the maze (and I literally mean maze) of shops full of Disney’s Aladdin gear. The women were under the shops, or under the counters with their kids surrounded by pillows and blankets and they were watching T.V. I think I’d like being a woman in Moroccan society. 1) I would never have to deal with styling my hair, 2) I get to watch T.V. all day and 3) I wouldn’t get the same opportunities as men. Wait a minute, that last one doesn’t sound that great to me. That’s beside the point. Let me continue with the story of my travels.
The first night in Marrakesh, after the trip to the medina (after seeing snake charmers and henna artists), my group ate at this AMAZINGLY romantic little restaurant. We walked down alley after alley while people on motor bikes zoomed past us until we reached a huge door in the wall. But the door didn’t open. Instead a piece of the door was cut out to be another little door that we ducked down and walked through. We followed a hallway towards an amazing smell and rose petals and dim red lights. We entered this beautiful room with candles and tables decked out in stacked plates, multiple wine glasses and too many forks than any one person could feasibly use in one meal. During the entire meal a man in the corner played some sort of instrument that looked like a steal guitar which I thought topped off the whole ambiance very nicely. That is until a belly dance came out and stole the show! She was very fun and got some of the shyer guys in the room to get up and attempt to swivel their hips in the correct manner, and failed epically much to the audience’s entertainment. The night ended and we went home with full bellies and happy hearts.
The next day we traveled up into the Atlas Mountains. We were going zip lining! The guys who worked there were some of the happiest and excited people I have ever met. They were great. We were given an info session that lasted about 5 minutes. This didn’t really seem like enough time for me to really understand not only how to zip line, but how to feel safe doing it. But hey, when in Morocco right? (My mom might be having a heart attack right now, so someone please check on her for me, k?) So we get up to the first obstacle: a wood plank bridge that was about 150 meters long and A LOT higher up. Or the way I thought of it, A LOT further down that you would fall to your untimely (and unsightly) death. So I clip myself onto the wires that are on either side of the bridge and take one step at a time. Each plank was a couple feet apart, and I didn’t really want to test my gear quite yet so I went slow and steady. Apparently childhood fables lie and the instructor behind me didn’t think that would make me win, so he decided to swing the whole bridge and bounce on it until I started a light (hopping) jog. I tried to repeat the mantra “don’t look down” over and over in my head, but apparently psyching yourself out doesn’t work both ways. So I looked down, across, around, and up until I felt thoroughly comfortable with the idea that I was out of my mind. But I made it across. Onto the zip lines! Four of them to be exact. I remember doing one small zip line during a Girl Scout trip when I was about 10 and figured if a little girl could do it, so could I. I was sooo stoked. And while I still wasn’t quite sure how to technically do it, I figured “hey, what’s the worst that could happen?” then I told myself that that was a rhetorical question.
IT WAS AWESOME. (excuse my language but…) it was fucking INSANE. Like blow your mind insane. I was flying from red rock mountain to red rock mountain, landing on a little strip of land cut out of the mountain’s side. The final one lasted about 40 seconds, which, going that fast, is a LONG way. And then of course we had to walk back to our lunch area across a tight rope.
Now for lunch. Do you remember Survivor? I’m not sure what season 44 and 45 are like, but back in the day they would have 2 challenges. One for a prize, and one for immunity. Well the one that I partook in was for a prize, and the prize was the best meal I’ve had yet. AND it was set up just like the ones on Survivor. In the middle of seemingly nowhere, under a canopy tent-like thing, sitting on embroidered cushions, with 4 courses, lots of plates and silverware and glasses. So gourmet.
So all in all, successful port stop. And now that I’m back on the boat, I’m trying to get back in the flow of classes and all, but really I’m just counting down the days ‘til Ghana (day after tomorrow, woot woot).
I’ve still never been sea sick (knock on wood) and I think I like walking on a moving floor more than still land. Less boring. And I like living my life on the edge—or off the edge on a zip line :)
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Casablancan Limrick
There stood a great big mosque outside,
It touched the sky and brushed the tide.
Because of my gender,
I was unable to enter.
Yet I could feel Allah without stepping inside.
Mojitos, Margaritas and Meringue (dance)
Even though the ship has already docked in Morocco, I have tales to tell from Spain. Before my pre-arranged trip with Semester at Sea (SAS --> remember that, if you chose to remember anything from my informative blogs) my friends Brian and Emillio (who coincidentally also go to Stanford, but no we didn’t really know each other before SAS though we had heard of each other, but weren’t really friends, and no we didn’t just group together because we go to the same school, we all just happen to be legit people who get along…can you see how many times I’ve had this conversation? Haha). Now you are so lost, and that wasn’t a full sentence, but there were so many details in parenthesis that I’m starting over. My friends Brian and Emillio and I planned a trip to Madrid for the first 2 days and one night. We took a very expensive bullet train to Madrid and explored the down town square after dropping our things off at the Hostel. It was the first Hostel I had ever been to, and lived up to my expectations, creepy old, metal, rickety elevator to boot. But it was safe, thanks to Brian’s mom for doing so much research for us (taking note mom :-P hehe). Anyway, we’re walking around and we get to a supermarket and they had some sample foods like at Costco, but since this is SPAIN and not dumb ol’ America, their samples were Mojitos! Of course us eager Americans line right up and get some of the first ones. They were really good! And I’m not a minty alcohol fan. So we walk out of the store (which was huge by the way) and start walking down the main street again back to our Hostel for some food then a Ciesta (nap time!!). Well we are all still holding our cups full of ice and some street performer is made up to look like a hair monster and he’s under a table with his head popping up through a hole. Two fake heads lay on either side of him. Now, I see what’s going on. He’s going to pretend to be a fake head then jump out at us! Thanks to my keen sense of observation, I also saw the whole crowd part way for the three Americans with their little cups pass unsuspectingly. I try to get Brian’s attention and save him from humiliation, but it was too late. Not only did the center head move and roar at us, one of the head I was sure was not going to move was attached to a stick and also jumped out at us. I stayed calm and controlled (of course) but Brian, my goodness. Brian yelped and jumped about 10 feet sideways away from the sound of danger all the while spraying ice and some Mojito out EVERYWHERE. It would not surprise me if he reacted in the same way had his leg also been blasted off.
So that was the start of Madrid.
After our meal of Tapas (little sandwiches with random stuff in it, anchovies, cured ham, Spanish potatoe tortilla, etc) and after our Ciesta, it was time to go out and see Spanish night life. We made our way to the famous younger’s club Club Capital (say “club” as “cloob” and “capital” as “capeetal” where the “a’s” sound like the “o” in “cop” and then you’ll get the right Spanish affect). But the lame boys I was with were denied entrance because they were in flip flops and tennis shoes. Tisk tisk. Time for plan B. Ask the locals where else we could go. Everyone was super friendly, and finally we stumbled across this group of men and women in their forties. The women were being pansies and wanted to go home, but these two men (who we have since conclude to be gay partners) were still ready for a hoppin’ night. So they brought us to a little local Salsa dancing club/bar. Unfortunately, us American’s have only been taught to “freak dance” or grind up and down on each other. Luckily, the two Spanish men were Salsa instructors! So we learned how to Salsa and dance to Meringue music and had an absolute blast. Upon crawling into bed, with insane blisters, around 4am, we were dead asleep. In the morning, or afternoon we had some Paetas (weird, gross mix of seafood) and I had some bread, we went to see the Museo Internacional de Prado and La Palacio (where the King lives…sometimes!) and felt like good American tourists. Then I left the two boys and made my way back to Cadiz via train so that I could make my SAS trip the next morning. Take that Holly and Madre, bought my ticket and made a train change all by myself. And in SPANISH. I couldn’t believe how easily I got along with three years of high school Spanish. I have a newfound faith: after Spain I pray to the God’s of Myndi’s memory.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Matadors, Madrid, Macarenas, and Sleep Deprivation
Getting super close to the first port.
I wrote that yesterday. I'm already showing signs of blogspot fatique. But today I AM HERE! I see land, I see birds, and I see some friendly construction guys. Remembe the game "sweet and sour" that you played in those awsome cars that had the back seat facing the rear window and you awkwardly stared at the car behind you? Except that it WASN'T awkward because you were 9, and it was flippin sweet? Yeah well that's what I did with the constuction guy. And he was sweet (for those of you who are like WTF? that means he waved hehe). Well, Brian is yelling at me that we have to get our passports and that this better be a quicky. But when I get back from Madrid tomorrow I will fill you in on all the insane deets of my trip. And then, the moment you have all been waiting for: PICTUIRES! (technically I haven't taken any yet, but they will be phenemonal and Coming Soon to a Blog near you)
Monday, August 30, 2010
Exploring the MV Explorer
You might be wondering to yourself, did Myndi ever make it on the ship? Well, I am finally here to give you the much anticipated answer: yes.
End of Blog
Just kidding! I finally have to some time to write. Popularity is such a time consuming religion, and I apologize for that in retrospect and in advance, since I’m sure the nature of the popularity will not decrease, in fact it is like to continue at an exponential rate of growth starting at 2am tonight. Unfortunately, since we have to continually lose an hour of sleep every couple nights, 2am will never come for me. This is a very long and convoluted joke in case my sarcastic tone hasn’t jumped off your screen and into your ears the way I trained it to. Like my dog Duke, maybe you can’t teach and old dog new tricks, but you definitely can’t teach a stupid dog new tricks. So in continuing with this winded joke and now extended metaphor, you also can’t get a computer on one end to relay tone in text to another computer simply because that kind of technology doesn’t exist…
Whew, glad I got out of that one while I was already down. What you might have learned from all that is that I am busy with meeting people, going to lectures, unpacking etc. You may also have picked up on the frustration I feel for the habitual loss of sleep that I will have to just accept and deal with. However, for any of you that have spent significant amounts of time with me should know that a) sleep is like a dear friend to me, and b) complaining is what I do, even when I’m actually having an amazing time. So even though I keep losing 2am, I am staying up late getting to know some truly amazing people.
I’ve just had two full days of class (and by full I mean all my classes once across two days, and thus only two and a half hours of class each of those days) and I loved them. I’m taking Cognitive Psychology, Comedic Styles of Performance (a class on figuring out what makes something funny, more on that another time), World Art History (and by world they mean the 10 countries we are visiting) and Global Studies (the required lecture class for everyone on board so that we aren’t dropped in these countries as culturally insensitive American pricks). Great professors, great students, manageable course load, you get the idea. I probably won’t be talking much more about those classes but I’ll mention things here and there.
So my social life. Try to remember back to freshman year at college, the first couple days. Now I want you to have that image in your mind, but strip away a few things. First subtract parents. So now you can’t meet people because your parents and some other scared little freshman’s parents awkwardly introduced you to each other because they met in line at the book store and both were holding a set of T’s that read “Proud Stanford Parent” and they just found it hilarious, and they started listing out what their respective kids accomplishments were and guess what!? It was revealed that you both played the trumpet for two years in middle school, or dressed up as Strom for Halloween 15 years ago, or whatever the strange connection that your “helpful” parents discovered and thought would just be the beginning of a bright friendship. So yes, strip that away from your image. Next, take away the comfort in knowing that everyone is starting over—that no one really came with anyone else. What do you keep then? The overt friendliness. The first meal that is a free pass to sit ANYWHERE and not be rejected or looked at oddly by the current occupants of that table. So how does this all play out? Well, luckily for you I took Social Psychology last spring. Before people start finding friends, the people who know each other group up, they aren’t exclusive yet, but they are definitely finding solace in the ability to always have a table to sit at, just in case. So the first real clues people use with where to sit or who to talk to is proximity. Who you’re next to in line, etc. Next is physical appearance. It’s not necessarily the case that people that look the same hang out, however people feel more comfortable around people they feel look similar to themselves. Thus it is a subjective process and you end up getting people confident in their looks (regardless of their actual appearance, though there is an obvious correlation) mentally picking through the crowd for attractive people to sit with. And the cliques begin. The point of this all is basically that I somehow missed it. But I am fairly certain that a lot of people felt that way, even if they were standing near other people. Anyway, I liked my roommate a lot. So I would always be standing with her. Then I became one of those people that found comfort in knowing a couple of Stanford kids. One of them in particular became a fast (fast) friend. We still question whether or not we were friends at Stanford because the mood and the ease of conversation is one that takes more than 2 days to develop, yet Brian and I have mastered it. Everyone assumes we were besties at Stanford. Which is great for me, he’s fun, outgoing, and I like to think that I am to, so we make a great team when venturing out into the dinner world and penetrating groups that look fun to hang out with. Along the way we have met some…interesting…people, and some that I’m sure will become our closer friends. It’s all working out perfectly in all honestly. My roommate and I get along really well but don’t have that similar of personalities, thus we won’t get sick of each other because I’m sure we will find separate (but overlapping) groups of friends, but still get our dorm time together. I’m sure my mom is ecstatic by this point in the blog because it’s so nice knowing that everything is going smoothly for your child.
Last point before I sign off, not a bit of sea sickness! I’m loving that the ground moves. I don’t want to walk on land. And at night is just fascinating. The first night I lay down to go to bed and closed my eyes I started connecting the feelings I was having to other experiences that I know. For example, laying on a trampoline while someone walks in a circle around you. When they do that, the trampoline moves underneath you in certain areas relieving pressure in some areas and adding a feeling of weight to others. That is kind of how it feels when the ship is rocking back and forth and side to side. Then you get the rollercoaster feeling sometimes, that lift in your stomach that’s always surprising and always cool. And then visually (even though my eyes are closed) it’s like and airplane moving walk way that you aren’t on. Instead you are looking at people moving and you start to think they are the ones staying still and you’re the one gliding. Even with my eyes shut, my mind tries to explain the movement and visualizes this type of scene where you can’t really tell what is moving, the rest of the world or just you. Very cool stuff, and I am enjoying it thoroughly. Hopefully my next update will be before docking in SPAIN!
Friday, August 27, 2010
KIT and SIT
Au revoir (Canada, french, get it?)
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Mom Boards the Ship Before I Do, Awesome
How I'm going to manage lugging my 70 lb luggage (alliteration anyone? Haha) to the ship you may ask? Good thing I didn't forget to pack my rippling muscles, can't just buy those at a Quicky Mart.
Okay so my humor is lacking, I can admit this. Which means bed time.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Hail Canada!
I'm not looking forward to the moment I get in the car headed towards the airport and I get that feeling that I'm forgetting something. Oh yes, we all know it very well, and it is not pleasant. In fact its nerve racking, and frustrating, and annoying, and there's no avoiding it. And sometimes it was an honest warning, and sometimes not. BUT what happens in the latter case is that we get to our destination and find something that would have been nice to have, but wasn't on our packing list, but we can then say with relief, "Oh! That's what I forgot, good thing I (FILL IN ENCOURAGING WORDS HERE--ex. really don't need that; I can buy it easily and it'll be good to have two of them; etc)" Anyway, I guess I'll just have to suck it up. Like my mom used to always ask: toothbrush? Yes. Underwear? Yes. Okay you're set. Thanks mom.
Time to get off my lazy butt, get pumped for the experience of a lifetime, get another shot, declare my major, print out a million and one documents, and PACK.
Til next time.