Pink Pajamas Penguins On The Bottom

South Africa tomorrow!

At 0500 I will be out the 7th deck forward, watching the landscape come into view.

At 0545 I will be watching the sun rise behind Table Mountain over South Africa, and blasting Circle of Life on my iPod.

At 0600 the pilot boat will come to guide us into port.

And at 0700 we will be alongside the dock and I will be waiting to get off the ship.

In other news we are approaching the Cape of Good Hope and the ocean swells have steadily been growing. All day things have been falling over left and right. In the Garden lounge we have these incredible floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a dazzling view of the gleaming ocean surrounding us. As the ship rocked back and forth we seriously watched as the horizon disappeared over the top of the windows, and then swung all the way down until all that was visible was the sky. My room has a mirror directly facing the window and every now and then I see the reflection of a giant wave rolling away from the ship. The creaking sounds from the ship started getting eerie and so I am sitting here now with my roommate and our friend listening to Disney music.

And The Monkey Jumped Over My Head

School Visit

So Many Cute Kids!

Monkeys and Bananas

Forgive me if my descriptions become a little scant but if I don't finish writing this today it will never get done. Because tomorrow we arrive in South Africa!

Day 4

We were told to be up at 6 to go see the monkeys, but once again, 6 in African time means 7 or 8. After our entire group was assembled, Emanuel led us through the village and onto a path leading though a small bit of forest, until we were told to stop and handed bananas. One by one the monkeys appeared in the trees, lured in by the scent of their favorite fruit. Some of them were mammas with baby monkeys. For some reason this group was shy this morning and so after a few of us had fed them bananas, we relocated to another group of monkeys. These were much more friendly, and jumped right up onto our arms to claim their treats.

The T-Shirt Artists

The View From Mt. Gemi

Day A10

I'm still working on writing down all of my Ghana experiences, don't think that they are over, but I just wanted to add a brief interlude.

I am so excited for South Africa!!!! Today is day five at sea which means we've spent the past five days in class discussing everything South Africa. The more I learn about this place the more I am determined that I will need to return for an extended period of time. There is so much to do and see and learn about! And the culture sounds absolutely insane! I mean Cape Town, where we are going, is practically a European city by design, and yet apartheid only ended 20 year ago, which means there are still remnants of it everywhere. I've heard countless people who have been there before say that is their favorite place in the world. It is supposed to be incredibly beautiful, and yet there is so much corruption there, and endless violations of human rights. The tourist industry has implemented countless thrills, from safaris and shark cage diving, to bunjee jumping and sand-boarding. And while all that carelessly goes on there are still people living in these Townships, or "makeshift housing," which basically consists of a little metal roof. It is hard to believe that so much wealth and poverty can coexist in such extremes. In fact there is this thing called the "Gini Index," which calculates the difference between the extremely wealthy and the severely impoverished in each country and guess who scores the highest? South Africa. I can tell you now for certain that you will not be hearing from me for the six days that I am there; I don't want to miss a minute!

Life at sea has truly become my home. I love it here. I am living with 600 other students who share in my passion of traveling, and not just share the same desires, but actually turn them into realities. So often we talk about the things we want to do in life and they never happen. We succumb to society's expectations of the lives we should live: go to school, start a career, settle down, support your family. Not that there is anything wrong with that as long as it's what you want. But it's so refreshing to be with this group of people who wanted to travel the world, and made it happen. It's also been really incredible living with and interacting with all of our professors and lifelong learners and staff and crew members in the manner that we have. And this ship has become a safe haven for when the chaos of being in port comes to an end. After near a week of living in the conditions of these third world countries, it is always nice to know there is a hot shower waiting at the end. Of course after experiencing the living conditions that everyone else has to endure, I also feel overwhelmingly spoiled, but it is a luxury that I will not resent in the least.

Every few days at sea we lose an hour as we travel east. It's usually every two days when we are at sea. It is funny because I am used to traveling, and jumping through time zones, and normally you get a good night's sleep and are back on track. Losing an hour, so consistently every couple days though is really beginning to catch up with me. Every two-day time period is 47 hours now instead of 48, and after a while you really begin to feel it. It's also crazy to think that I am now nine hours ahead of Colorado time. I'm getting ready to go to bed and you all are just finishing lunch. Anyway. Goodnight.

Tafi Monkey Sanctuary

Day 3

I was just talking with a group of my friends up on the 7th deck over a round of icecream about how hard it has been to write about Africa. We write down these words that relate what we did, but how do you even begin to describe the ways in which it impacted you? I can relate to you my stories of the schools I visited and the kids I played with, how I did this and went there and saw that, but how do I explain what it truly meant? How do I go about describing the horrifying realization that comes along with actually experiencing something that you've only ever heard about? Parent's always chide their their kids to finish their plates by saying "There are starving kids in Africa." But does anyone really know what that means? Of course not, we have been sheltered in wealth our entire lives. And don't get me wrong, I most definitely will not pretend to know what it means after spending a mere five days in Ghana, but I do know that we have no idea. As I told you yesterday, we watched a little girl gnaw a chicken bone until it was completely clean. I went without access to drinking water for a night (that story comes later), something that many people back home would never consider could happen, and yet it is not uncommon here. I don't really know where I'm going with this, just that as I relate my experiences, know that they are so much more than that.

I woke up to the cock-a-doddle-doo of a rooster (I kid you not) on a piece of foam covered with a dirty blanket. I'd tossed my pillow aside at some point during the night because it was worn and musty and lumpy and just much more comfortable without. We had been told that we should be up at a certain hour, but of course in African time, we didn't actually get going until a couple hours after schedule. Breakfast consisted of three large slices of white bread, covered in eggs, which were incredible (I can't help but wonder how often they actually get to eat eggs though).

The plan for the morning was to hike Mt. Gemi. So we walked back to the town center to meet up with our other group, drop our bags off on the bus, and fill up on water. I don't believe I've mentioned yet about the water. They sell water in these little square, sealed, plastic bags. Since these bags are drinking water, we just automatically assumed that they were safe. After drinking them the entire trip though, our guide had informed us the night previous that they are not actually all safe. There are some companies that package the water that don't properly purify it. You have to look for a seal that the government stamps on the bags to make sure it is actually safe to drink. So at some point in the first couple days, I likely drank contaminated Ghanian water. On with the story. We set off on a path that led to the edge of town and up the mountain (which by Colorado standards really hardly even qualified as a hill). The view was phenomenal though, with Amedzofe down below, and winding dirt roads in the distance, and the entire green hilly landscape. At the top of the mountain was a large green cross, which ironically enough was actually a secret telecommunication devise used by the Germans during World War II. I never even knew the Germans were located in Africa during the war.

After our hike we said goodbye to the townspeople, piled back on the bus, and began the drive towards the waterfalls. I really couldn't tell you how long any of the bus rides were during our trip. I spent most of them napping. Along the way we decided to stop for lunch. Our guide ran up to the first restaurant to see if they would be able to accommodate our large group but no luck. You have to remember that we were in the middle of subsaharan Africa. There are no fancy large restaurants with half a dozen chefs in a large kitchen. A restaurant consists of a room with several tables and chairs, and a little cooking area out back where one woman prepares all the food. We stopped at a second restaurant but that one didn't work out either. Finally, on our third attempt, our guide came back to the bus and said he'd found a place for us to eat. The name of it was Virgin Lips. As we all crowded in, the woman who owned the place was there to greet us all with a beaming smile. I ordered red red, a traditional dish that consists of beans and fried plantains. While we waited for our food to arrive (it takes a long time to prepare over 20 dishes) we decided to go explore the surrounding area. There was a school nearby, and we waved to the kids over the fence and asked the teacher if we could come in. She agreed, and we went to greet the kids. Such a thing could have never happened in America. The police would have been called. But there we were, a complete group of strangers going to play with little kids and no one payed us any mind whatsoever. These kids were so adorable. I don't even have words to describe it any more.

After we left the school we went to a few of the little shops/stands, bought some local snacks, and then, hidden amongst the little stalls and stands selling fabric and spices and other ordinary, everyday purchases, we found one stand decorated with these beautifully tie-died hand painted t-shirts hanging out front. There is no end of artwork to be encountered in the markets in Ghana, and when asked if the salesperson is the actual artist, they will all respond in the affirmative, which you will want to believe until upon closer inspection of the canvases you will realize that none of the paintings actually bear the same signature. This place was different; the artist was standing right there working with his latest piece. Everything was bright and textured and just bursting with color. From first walking up to the shop I'd had my eye on a purple and yellow tie-died t-shirt with an elephant on the front. It's a really sweet t-shirt. We browsed around, and shopped, and talked to the artists, and finally decided that our food would probably be ready soon and headed back to the restaurant.

It turned out to be quite a while longer before lunch actually made an appearance, but it was worth every moment of the wait just for the fried plantains alone. Between Brazil, and Ghana I have become simply obsessed with fried plantains. They are divine. Sometime during lunch two very obviously non-native white girls strolled in and we learned they they had been backpacking all over West Africa for the past month. As it turned out we were heading in the same direction, the waterfalls, and so we offered them a ride on our bus which they gladly accepted.

The ride to the falls was relatively short. I actually had no idea when I was packing that we were going to waterfalls. The updated itinerary including that information seemed to have missed me, and as such I had not thought to pack a swimsuit. Plus, we have these "fright night" pre-port presentations by Dr. Bill about each and every disease, bacteria, and overall medical horror that we would ever have to worry about while in that particular port. For Ghana, we were told to avoid swimming in fresh water because they have these parasites... I'm not even going to go into detail. So swimming was out of the question. We ambled off the bus into a little area with a dozen or so little shops, waited for everyone to change, and then began our hike through the beautiful lush mountains. I love hiking at sea level. It's such a breeze. We came out into a clearing after about 30 minutes to find a breathtaking waterfall towering high above us, all the way down into the pool before us. I couldn't miss out on that. Bathing suit and parasites aside, I went in fully clothed, stood under the waterfall, and enjoyed the crisp, clear water after the hot sticky atmosphere we'd become accustomed to. It was perfection.

Being in no hurry to leave, I waited until the last minute possible, until all the rest of the group had started the hike back down, and finally left with our guide, Emanuel. Emanuel actually lives in the monkey village where we were heading to next, and I spent the hike asking him about his life there, the languages of Ghana (everyone is multilingual and speaks at least four languages), and every sort of cultural question about himself and Ghana in general that I could think of. It was really nice to have the chance to talk one-on-one with a local. I love the experience of traveling with friends, but at the same time, I feel like some of the experience of immersing yourself in with the local people is lost. Of course five days is not enough time to do that anyway, but it was nice to break away from the pack for a little bit. Emanuel was extremely informative, and told me everything I could have wanted to know and more. We reached the shops at the end of the trail where we had stared, I bought a handmade bad that I bargained down to ten cedi, and we loaded back onto the bus for the umpteenth time. Next stop: Tafi, at long last.

I'm sure you've realized by now that Tafi Monkey Village was always the overarching goal of this trip. A local village inhabited by monkeys, what could be more fascinating? Once again I just napped the entire way there, and by the time we arrived night had fallen. This was not like the previous village though where everyone went to bed with sundown. I don't actually know if the festivities were planned just for us, or if they were a common evening-time occurrence, but either way, Emanuel assured us that we were in for a late and fun-filled night.

Once off the bus, we were split into groups and led to the places where we would be spending the night. Some people stayed in extra rooms in people's houses. My group stayed in the local "hotel." I say hotel for lack of a better word. There were three little brightly painted huts with a couple rooms apiece and a padlock on the door. Lizzie and I walked into our room to find a concrete floor covered with a sheet of wallpaper, a severely water-stained ceiling, and two beds (pieces of foam on a wood frame) with actual mosquito nets. I have tramped all over the Caribbean, the Amazon, and now Africa, and here in this little village was the first time I had come across an actual mosquito net.

Once we had dropped all of our belongings, we reconvened and made our way to the village center. There, beside a completely unlit building (actually the entire village was completely unlit) a circle of plastic lawn chairs had been set up for us. We all found seats and an old storyteller proceeded to tell us the traditional village stories, many of them relating to the legends of the monkeys that live there. Emanuel sat next to him and translated for him. After a few of these stories, the drums began, and we were entertained with traditional African dance, which was incredible and unlike any dancing you've ever seen before. Several dances later, we were all invited to join in, and danced around in a giant circle, led by the dance troop.

When the performances came to an end, Emanuel informed us that we were going to the bar where they had prepared a party for us. What ensued what exactly the same scene you'd see at a bar back home, except we were in Ghana. Men in Ghana are exactly the same as men anywhere else in the world, they have a few drinks and can think about nothing but picking up girls, except here they are slightly more formal and actually give you a marriage proposal. One of the dancers spent the entire evening proposing to me, which I tried to brush off lightheartedly at first, and when that didn't work, started making up fake boyfriends back home who were football players and giants and would not be happy with him at all. He still was not convinced and spent the remainder of the evening holding my hand and refusing to let go. I was relieved when the first of our group decided to head back and turn in for the night. Goodbye dancer. Sorry it didn't work out.

Also, the water story, after a drink or two I headed back to the bar to buy a bottle of water, not wanting to get dehydrated. The bar informed me that they didn't sell water. I found Emanuel and asked him if there was anywhere I could find water. He pointed out one of the locals, to whom I gave 2 cedi and asked for water. He hopped on his bike and was gone. A good ten minutes later he returned. Sorry, no water in the village. What do you do when you are in the middle of subsaharan Africa with no access to clean drinking water?

After we headed back to our rooms, we stayed up for a while talking, watching as giant bugs landed on the mosquito nets and lizards ran up and down the walls, until even the fear of swallowing a spider during the night was not great enough to combat sleep.

My Country is the World, My Religion is To Do Good

Amedzofe

Day 2

After the terrible first impression that Accra had given us of Ghana, we were all extremely glad that we had signed up for a trip to get out of the city and see some of the villages. It's a good thing too that a few of my friends had also signed up because apparently there were a few emails circulating with information on where to meet up that I never even received. We got off the ship and took the shuttle to the port gate and began the wait. 0700, the designated meeting time came and left and we all attributed it to African time. African time is even slower than island time, and you can always expect things to be at least an hour late. 0800 approached and we began to get concerned that perhaps we were in the wrong place. It was also around this time that I realized I'd left my money back in my room on the ship. We began discussing the various emails and itineraries we had received and realized that all of them, save for the latest one, had said that pickup time was 0900, and realized that 0700 must have been a typo. Hopefully. So I decided to take my chances and walk back to the ship with my friend to retrieve my money. As we were leaving the ship for the second time, a few girls from our group were coming back. They had given up. Three down. We walked back to the port gate and waited. And waited. And waited. People slowly began to trickle away. 0900 came and left and we decided to give it until 0930. As the chances of our trip working out began to fade away we started making plans to go to Cape Coast instead, find a hotel, spend a couple nights, see the slave castles and some of the beaches. By this point we were all sitting around in a little waiting room area playing cards. And then we heard someone call from outside "They're here!"

There was a man and a woman there to greet us, both extremely apologetic for being 40 minutes late (apparently the meet up time was indeed 0900, and they didn't realize we had been waiting for nearly three hours). We strolled onto the bus and began our journey. About an hour into the trip we stopped for lunch. Where we stopped was this breathtaking little lakeside restaurant with lizards running around and little covered decks out on the lake, called Aylo's Bay Garden Restaurant and Lodge. It was a scene out of movie. I ordered Banku. I've learned over the course of this trip that it is really an American thing to bring everyone's meals out at once. Different dishes take different amounts of time to cook. They are always served fresh, and you are not expected to watch it get cold until everyone else is served their food. No, when you are served you eat it. In groups as big as ours, when we went to restaurants many people would usually already be finished eating by the time the last of our food arrived. Well, on this particular occasion, my food still hadn't arrived by the time it was time to get back on the bus and move on. The tour guide felt terrible and so had the restaurant pack up chicken and yam fries to take with me. I didn't have the heart to tell him I didn't eat meat.

There was a long drive to the village where we would be spending the night and so many of us fell asleep. When I woke up, we were on a dirt road winding up a steep mountain path. I don't think the road was built for vehicles as large as our tour bus. It was a rather terrifying experience. I watched out the window as various villages passed by. A staple to the scenery were little miniature goats running around, almost wild everywhere. As we passed, every eye of every person around would be glued to our bus; we were clearly not a sight that they saw every day. It felt a bit like being an animal on display in a zoo, but at the same time here we were in their country, and they were out in the sweltering heat trying to sell their wares so as to make a cedi or two, and here we were rolling through on a giant, luxurious (by their standards) air-conditioned bus. It felt so bewilderingly backwards.

Our bus finally came to a halt in a little village called Amedzofe, which as it turns out is the highest human settlement in Ghana. We grabbed our belongings and were off. We were divided into two different groups and led to two separate guest houses. Our house was on the edge of the hill, with a spectacular view out over all the surrounding area. There was a little porch area, which led to the dining room and a closet of a kitchen. There was a hallway with several rooms jutting off. Lizzie, my roommate, and I were surprised to find that we had our own bathroom and even a TV, although there was extremely limited electricity and no running water. The man who owned the house led us outside with a stack of buckets and turned on the tap in the back to start filling them up. One by one, we brought the buckets inside to fill up two large basins of water in the main hallway. That was our water supply. Even though we had a toilet, we had to pour a whole bucket of water down it to make it flush. There was a shower area, and showers consisted of a bucket of water dumped over your head. Once we had deposited our bags and filled the water basins, we walked back to the village center to meet back up with the rest of our group. At this point I should apologize for having referred to this place as a village. One of my friends called it such and was told that it was a town, not a village. So we walked back to the town center where many of the locals were already gathered. We spent a long while playing with the kids, giving them stickers, taking their pictures... They were positively delighted by our cameras, having never seen pictures of themselves before. We'd take a picture of a group of them, switch the camera to playback mode, and show them the picture, which would result in a chorus of laughter. At one point I gave them my camera to allow them to take their own pictures and they went crazy. After a while though I had to take it away because they were all fighting over it. But looking back at my pictures I have dozens of photographs of blurry faces and hands where one kid tried to take a picture, and another kid snatched it away.

One of my friends brought a Polaroid camera that prints out stickers of the photos. She went around taking pictures of all of the mothers with their children. It was amazing to see their reactions to the small gift; many of them had never owned a picture of their family before.

Dinner time rolled around and the entire group of us headed back to our guest house. A few of the local women were in the kitchen busily preparing what turned out to be rice, pasta, and chicken. I am nearly positive that the chicken had just been slaughtered. There is no place else that they could have gotten it from. One of the little girls from the town had walked back with us and we gave her one of our chicken legs. She ate the chicken leg, to the same extent that any of us would have. But when most of us where finished with our plates, she kept gnawing at the bone, eating every last scrap of meat, and when that was gone she began chewing at the cartilage. By the time she was finished with it there was literally nothing but the bare bone left. I think it gave us all a bit of a reality check.

When dinner was finished we walked back in the pitch black to the town center. I emphasize in the pitch black because electricity, as I've already mentioned, is extremely limited, and there literally was not a single light outside. It was like a blackout. There are so many things we take so for granted, like light illuminating a street, and when you don't have that anymore it is a bit of a shock. By the time we arrived in town it was pretty much dead. The people who live there live very traditionally: up with the sunrise, and to bed with the sunset. We split up and went to two different bars that our tour guide pointed out. And by bar I mean a little shack of a shopfront on someone's home where they sell liquor, with a little patio area for sitting. The bar seemed to be deserted, although there was music playing. So we danced around on the patio until a few of the kids started poking their heads around the corner and a couple people in the group figured it would be a good idea to ask them for alcohol. Turns out they actually were the bartenders. We were served beer by an eleven-year-old. At one point their mother showed up, and I figured the little kid was going to be in trouble for serving us alcohol but she acted as though it was completely normal. I guess when it is the childrens job to help out, that extends to bar-tending duties as well. So we drank the local beer (which was really incredible) and danced around with the kids, and every now and then reminded each other with a tone of disbelief, "We are in Ghana!"

I don't know how long we spent at the bar but at some point we went back to to our guest house. The night was not over though, we sat around and played this really fun game, which I will relate here because you all should play it; it's a fun time, I promise. Take smallish pieces of paper, and however many people there are, give each person that many pieces of paper and number them. So there were nine of us, and we each had a small stack of papers numbered one through nine. On paper #1 write down a phrase, it can be anything, but preferably with an action, such as "sailing around the world." Everyone passes their stack of paper to the left and the receiver tries to draw the phrase on paper #2. Again, the papers are passed to the left and the next person has to write out the phrase for the picture on paper #3 (they can only look at paper #2). This continues around the circle, phrase, drawing, phrase, drawing, until you end up with your original stack of papers. And then you go through everything and have a good laugh. Try it.

Accra - Definitely Not My Favorite Place in the World

I've realized that I have no problems with any of the food in port. I eat street food, fruits and veggies that may have been washed with nasty local water, no problems whatsoever. Ironically, it's always to first meal back on the ship that makes me sick to my stomach. My body can handle scary foreign bacteria but not preservatives. I bought a jar of peanut butter and soy milk in Accra thinking they would give me enough protein supply until South Africa. First day back at sea and my peanut butter is already half gone. Oops. Haha sorry, I should really stop whining about the ship food. 

Ghana was incredible, truly life-changing. It's amazing to see how little people need to survive, and it really made me appreciate that even though my family is relatively poor back home, we still live like kings  compared to the majority of the world. But the remarkable thing is that I didn't even see near the worst of it. As I relate my experiences do keep in mind that Ghana is actually the most economically stable country in West Africa. 

So without further ado... 

Day 1

I was up at the crack of dawn, as always, to watch as we pulled into port. We had a larger crowd than usual, but still not nearly as many as I would expect. I mean really, we are seeing the coast of Africa for the first time, many of us will probably never return, and people would rather sleep? I don't understand it at all. I think pulling into port is one of the most exciting parts of the trip! 

While we waited for the ship to clear customs, a group of Ghanaian drummers and dances set up outside the ship and put on quite a performance. It was really exciting because at one point they played Shakira's Waka Waka. 

A group of friends and I jumped on the shuttle bus and took the 30 minute ride to Accra, the capital city. We were originally planning on trying to get over to the slave castles but with the insane traffic that Ghana can have, the drive would have been as long as four hours and we wouldn't have gotten there until right when they closed. So we opted for Accra instead. 

Immediately upon stepping off of the bus we were bombarded with beggars trying to sell bracelets with Ghana printed on them. Their persistence was overwhelming. They would shove their wares into our hands and refuse to take them back, insisting that we buy the bracelet, and if we wouldn't buy it, then they would give it to us if we would give them a little something in return. As soon as one was brushed off a dozen more would appear in his place. If you talked to one, he would tell you a pathetic story about his starving family that he was trying to provide for. And of course we could see the squalor they were living in - enormous gutters filled with trash lining the streets, barely a torn piece of fabric covering their backs - and they all knew we had just arrived off of this beautiful, luxurious ship, and to do so we must have, what to them would seem like endless amounts of money. If you tried to ignore them they would call after you saying there was no need to be rude, and you would feel terrible. 

We finally found refuge inside of the building where we decided to have lunch. We asked a few of the locals where we should eat and they all pointed us towards a restaurant called Frankie's. We walked inside and took one look at the menu and realized they had sent us to an American restaurant, because of course we are tourists; why would we want to eat anything besides our own food? I was relived to find though that there was a Lebanese menu, and ordered a falafel wrap, something I have actually been craving for ages; so it didn't turn out to be a complete waste. 

After lunch we went to a shop called Global Mamas. Global Mamas is a fair trade organization and NGO that helps out underprivileged women in Ghana by selling their traditional craftwork. All proceeds go to their cause. It was a really cute little colorful store with clothing and bags and jewelry and many other beautiful pieces of traditional Ghanaian craftwork. I bought some really sweet gifts and overall just had fun browsing around. 

Our next stop was the art market but on the way there we passed the outdoor Makola Market. A couple of women selling fruit stopped me, and sensing that they were just friendly and not trying to get money from me, I stopped to talk to them. They wanted to know where I was going, and where I had come from. I politely answered their inquiries and then turned away to catch up with my friends. They called after me saying that they wanted a picture with me, which was surprising because Ghanaians are very skeptical of pictures and you really have to be extremely careful and ask before photographing anything. I don't know the exact reason but someone told me it has something to do with a belief that part of your spirit leaves when your picture is taken. I also heard somewhere else that they are extremely paranoid with the explosion of the internet and photos being available everywhere online. Either way, I happily agreed to a picture, and so one of the woman pulled me down onto her lap, and now I have this awesome picture of me sitting in a big black ladies lap, enveloped in her arms like some little kid. It is really adorable. 

The art market was amazing. Row upon row of little stands set up and endless paintings and carvings and sculptures. It quickly became overwhelming though as absolutely every seller there tried to take us by the hand and lead us to his stall. Even after I had spent all of my money, and told them that I didn't have any money left, they would say "It's ok, just come and look" and then I would, after making it very clear that it was only to look, and they would show me a particular mask and say "How much you give me? I make you very good offer." "No, I really don't have any money left." "Come on, only ten Cedi." "I'm sorry I spent all my money." And I'd walk away only to be bombarded by a dozen more shopkeepers. I did get some really beautiful paintings and sculptures and masks for dirt cheap though. Bargaining became a fun game. I got a little ripped off in the beginning but quickly learned that what you have to do is set your final price, and then after they say it's too little, just walk away, uninterested. Pretty soon they are running after you having changed their mind and agreeing to your price. 

We spent quite a while at the market and by the time we left it was time for dinner. Once again, we started enquiring around for a good place to eat, and tried to specify this time that we wanted local food. Everyone told us to go to Papaya, so we hopped in a cab and headed in that direction. Papaya turned out to be even worse then Frankie's. It was a fast food place, bearing striking resemblance to McDonalds. We left and walked around in search of someplace authentic. It was quickly getting dark and we weren't having any luck so we stopped at what was clearly another fast food place, but at least they had a traditional rice dish which turned out to be delicious. 

After dinner we found Koala market, the local grocery store, where I found my peanut butter and soy milk. They also had an entire isle of chocolate for Valentine's day, or National Chocolate Day as it is known here. We loaded up on snacks for the ship and then headed for the shuttle. 

We headed back to the ship and people stared making plans to go out. I was completely overwhelmed by the onslaught of beggars and had no desire whatsoever to be in any such circumstances under the cover of the night. Plus we were scheduled to leave at 7am the next morning so I figured I might as well just get some sleep. I usually try not to waste a moment in port but there was just something about the city that made me super uncomfortable. It's all part of traveling I guess, you find places you love and places you'd be happy never to return to. It's still an unbelievable experience though, and that's what truly matters. 

Zero Degrees Latitude, Zero Degrees Longitude

Just before 1300 today we passed directly through the equator and the prime meridian at the same time. How cool is that?! I was up on the 7th deck, soaking in the sun; the ship horn bellowed to mark our crossing and I announced loud and clear "I love my life!'

Ghana was absolutely fantastic! I had some really moving experiences. All of the details are coming soon.

Doxycycline Disclaimer

Sooo apparently you shouldn't take Doxy before going to sleep, or on an empty stomach, because it will burn through your esophagus. Just FYI.

Day 9 At Sea

Today is day 9 that I have been at sea, and thank goodness, the last day before we reach Ghana! (I'm definitely beginning to feel ill from eating nothing buy empty calories and can't wait for some good Ghanaian street food).

It's really weird because I have absolutely no concept of days of the week anymore. They just don't exist nor matter. We have in-port days and at-sea days. When we are in port its day 1, day 2, day 3, etc. While at sea it's A day, B day, repeat.

I can't believe i'm going to be in Africa!!! It's simply mind-boggleing. My plans are thus: Days 2, 3, and 4 I'm going to this Tafi Monkey Village. That's about all I know. It's some trip I signed up for on Facebook that the Fall '11 voyage raved about. The last day I have an FDP to go learn about the Queen Mothers of Ghanaian culture. That leaves the first day free to explore, and I think we are going to try and get over to the slave castles, which are these castles that were built in the 1600s to hold captured slaves while they waited for the trade ships to transport them to the Americas and the Caribbean.

I don't know yet if I will be back to the ship at all, hopefully not until it is time to depart, and if that is the case there will be no more updates until the end of day 5 (Friday?)

Also, Happy 24th to my awesome cousin Ross!!!!

And Happy (almost) Valentine's Day to everyone. Love and miss you all!

Last Night I Had This Dream That I Traveled Around the World

I've been having the strangest dreams since boarding this ship, I think from the constant rocking, and half of my amusement waking up every morning is remembering them. 

There's a Dr. Seuss quote that goes, You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep at night because reality is finally better than your dreams. Ok, so replace in love, with just overall ecstatic with life and listen to this. 

I had this crazy dream that I traveled around the world. And the dream wasn't about me traveling, it was about that overwhelming feeling when I got home of Wow, that just happened. I woke up this morning and was playing through my dreams in my head and caught that one and seriously thought Dang, what an awesome dream; I wish I could actually travel around the world. And then it dawned on me, full force, 

Omg that's exactly what I'm doing... 

I think that was the first time it fully hit me. 

In other news, last night I had dinner with my "extended family." As I'm sure I've mentioned, our shipboard community isn't entirely students, but we have what are called "lifelong learners" as well. Lifelong learners are older individuals who for reasons that escape my comprehension, choose to spend four months sailing the world with a bunch of college kids. They take classes right along with us and are really the most interesting group of people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. 

So the ship does this extended family program where they group several students up with a pair of lifelong learners and we form our own little family in a sense. I initially didn't sign up for this program but then found out someone wasn't going, and decided to show up in her place. The ship had set aside the 5th deck dining room for us to all have dinner together last night, and I walked over to our table and right away my "mom" jumped up and greeted me with a giant hug. This was the sweetest couple I have ever met, and they had no end of stories to tell about all their travels together. In fact, the wife, Priscilla, was actually the academic dean of Semester at Sea back in the 70s. So I have a "mom" and a "dad," Pris and John, who met on a train in Germany many years ago. I also have three "sisters" and two "brothers." Two of them are exchange students from China which is really cool.  All in all it was a really great evening. 

Fun Facts

The normal year has 365 days. This year will have 367 days for us; one extra day because it is a leap year, and another because we will be crossing the International Dateline.

We don't have real peanut butter on the ship. Due to the risk of severe peanut allergies its made out of soy.

Backtracking to Brazil

Day 1

I was so excited to watch our ship port that I woke up at 0500, only to realize that the sun wasn't up yet. So I waited an hour before heading out to the 6th deck forward. We sailed along the Amazon for a good hour before finally rounding a curve and there was the city on our starboard side, nothing like what I was expecting. I guess I presumed a port city in the smack middle of the Amazon would be more like Roseau, Dominica, small and quaint with nothing bigger than small, colorful two-story buildings. I definitely was not expecting to see a city so massive with a skyline to boot. I mean we went over the population of Manaus how many times in Global Studies and pre-port meetings, but I have never been oriented to numbers and it didn't really register until I saw it for myself. It was incredible. We finally sailed into port and a band set up to greet us. So there we were, up on deck while a group of Brazilian officials serenaded us from below.

Speaking of Brazilian officials, I never did mention that on our journey to Manaus, we made a stop in Macapa for fuel and to pick up a few of the state diplomats who sailed with us to Manaus, joining us in classes and presenting information on the nation of Brazil. It was really an interesting experience having them on board, living with us.

Up on deck I ran into my friend who happened to be going on the same riverboat trip as me. We had two hours between being cleared to leave the ship at 0800 and meeting up in the dining hall at 1000 with our group. What do you do with two hours to kill? Explore the city of course! Don't be fooled into thinking that we were just able to waltz off the ship, walk around for a while, and then waltz back on. All of the SAS trips going to Rio were scheduled to leave at 0800 and so we had to wait in line as everyone swiped their student ID cards to leave, that took a good 30 minutes, and then wait on the dock for a shuttle that would take us to the main port building. Not to mention we had to consider waiting in line to get back on the ship, and clearing customs, all before 1000. But honestly, if you had two hours to kill and not even 4 days in Brazil, would you twiddle your thumbs and wait on the ship? Didn't think so. So we met up with a few other people and ran around the city, visiting as many stores as we could in our quickly dwindling time. Manaus is colorful, and busy, and filled with shoe stores, and the exact same convenience store every forth shop called Shop Dope, and smells of rotting fruit. At about 20 minutes til 1000 we booked it back for the port building, jumped on the shuttle, made it through customs, dashed up the stairs and back to our rooms to grab our bags, and somehow made it to the dining room with a couple minutes to spare as they called out attendance.

Our riverboats were supposed to meet us at the same dock that the ship was at, but due to some change in security they had to dock farther along the coast. So our group of forty some students walked along the busy streets with our luggage in tow, through the city in the dizzying heat until we reached a small port bustling with colorful riverboats. We walked down the concrete ramps, and up a dangerously rickety and narrow wooden plank, held up by nothing but a tire hanging from a rope to get onto the larger of our two boats. The larger of the boats held 30 students, and the little boat was just big enough for the other dozen of us. For some reason though our little boat would be meeting up with us later so we all crowded onto the bigger one to cruise up the river to our first destination: the 'Meeting of the Rivers.' Once again, I had no idea what to expect, one river branching off of another one? Ok that's cool but what's the big deal? There is no river branching off of another, merely one turning into the other, but the thing is they are both completely different colors, and due to the different sediments and minerals in each river, you can see the distinct division between the two: the Amazon, the color of mud; and the Negro, black like earl grey. Looking at the two looks for all the world like cream being swirled into coffee. It's really cool.

Next up was the Victoria Regia Water Lilies. At this point I will admit I was getting a little concerned with what the next four days were going to entail. I booked this trip through Global Citizens, a group comprised of Semester at Sea alumni who wanted to put together a trip of all the top destinations and most popular things to see in each port. They have gotten a wide array of mixed reviews so I knew going into it that I was gambling with my time in port and it would either turn into an incredible experience, or a complete disaster. We reached the water lilies, climbed off the boat, walked on a little wooden path through a patch of light forest, and came out at an observation deck over a sea of gigantic water lilies. It was really cool but a bit too touristy, with our guide stopping at random spots in the forest to educate us on this or that tree, and then the lifespan of the water lily blossoms. I wanted a real experience, not a safe little walking tour. A few of us stopped at a little food stand on the way back and bought what I can only describe as deep-fried squares of dough stuffed with cheese. Omg I've never tasted anything so delicious! But that is probably the influence of a constant diet of pasta and potatoes speaking. But seriously, it was like the perfect combination between a donut and a grilled cheese sandwich, which was exactly the comfort food I've been craving after days of iceberg lettuce. So after my first real meal in what felt like eons, I felt a million times better.

By this time the small boat had caught up with us and so our little group moved all of our bags over. These riverboats were so cool. They were completely open air, no windows whatsoever, just tarps that were pulled down when it would rain. On the bottom deck the captain's area to steer the boat was at the bow, followed by a small dining area, and the kitchen in the stern. The bathroom was also down there and comprised of a closet-sized room with a toilet, showerhead, and drain. The top deck was completely empty to make room for hammocks to hang from the beams, and a small deck in the stern. When we boarded, our hammocks were not up yet and so we sat in plastic deck chairs with our feet up on the railing and just watched the scenery and enjoyed as we sailed down the Amazon. I have to say, it was really cool not having any technology (cell phones, laptops, etc.) for the entire time. We hardly had a light for that matter. There was one small neon light on the top deck but we were only able to turn it on when the boat's engines were on.

We sailed up the river for a few hours, until well after dark before we finally pulled over to the other boat so that dinner could be passed over. Normally we would stop and rope the boats together at meal times so that we could all eat together, but we still had a significant amount of distance to cover before docking for the night and so only stopped long enough to collect our meal. Our chefs for those four days were incredible: three home-cooked meals per day with a wonderful assortment of fresh fruit, fish, rice, beans, and other traditional Amazonian foods. For breakfast they would make these flat, white, chewy, tapioca cakes, which really didn't have a whole lot of flavor, but they would spread them with butter and roll them up and they were really delicious. That first night for dinner we also got cake, because it was one of the girl's birthdays. The fact that we got cake and the other boat didn't caused a fair amount of resentment.

We spent the evening playing out on the back deck in the pouring rain and then just sitting around talking while we drank what I believe were called caberiñas (my spelling is probably off). Caberiñas are a traditional Brazilian drink, comprised of sugar and lime pulp, mixed into nothing but pure rum. So yeah, you may think of a drink as a shot or two of liquor with a mixer, but not the Brazilians, they don't mess around with their rum. An entire glass of rum with a bit of sweetener is all you need.

We hung up our hammocks after a long hot day and after a while found our destination and docked with the other boat. No mosquito nets, just a hammock swaying in the open air on a riverboat with the sound of the jungle in the background.

It's Neptune Day!

For those of you less familiar with the maritime traditions of Semester at Sea, Neptune Day is a day of celebration for everyone who has crossed the equator for the first time.

I woke up this morning to the banging and clanging of pots and pans and whistles as the crew marched up and down our hallways to beckon us up to the 7th deck. It was a blast. How often do you get woken up at 0730 to party out in the middle of the ocean? So we all gathered onto the outside deck to await the arrival of King Neptune, who was greatly angered by our crossing the equator without his permission. To pass our initiation we were showered with fish guts and forced to kiss a fish. The other tradition is to shave your head, which many did, girls and guys alike. Our ship is going to look like a Make A Wish Foundation ship when we reach our next port. Perhaps a party filled with fish guts and freshly shaved hair flying around doesn't sound like your cup of tea, but we were all ecstatic. It's a right of passage after all.

Lunch time came around and after nice long showers we ambled down to the dining hall to find (drumroll please), it's also Taco Day! Taco day is all anyone ever talks about. Because they are the few and seldom days that we are served something besides pasta and potatoes. And they were the most glorious tacos ever! (Yes, I stopped being a vegetarian for an afternoon. That's how excited I was for real food).

Oh yes, and as for whether or not I'm currently rocking a bald head, I guess you'll just have to sweat that one out.

This Is the Life

...And Then I Ate It

Mmm Piranha!

These Kids Are So Cute!

The World is My Campus

Grapes and Atlantic Waves

Last night I was dreaming that we weren't actually on a ship, but rather a train, and we had reached some country that couldn't afford to put railroad tracks all the way through, so we had to use the roller coaster tracks instead. So there we were, on this massive roller coaster, twisting our way upside down and every which way. Somehow I fell overboard, and that was not a concern, because we have really advanced technology to detect should anyone ever fall overboard. The concern was finding a supermarket and stocking up on food before they discovered that I was missing and found me. So I was scrambling around, dodging the train that was tracking me, trying desperately to buy food at this convenience store before they picked me up again.

I woke up to the ship swaying more violently than we've yet to experience. I guess that explains the roller coaster dream. It was actually kind of nice because work was dead. I guess I've yet to mention anything about my work study. I work in the field office, which is the office that handles all of the trips you can buy through SAS. This also includes all of the FDPs, the trips required for classes. It's been a complete nightmare, because there has been an insurmountable amount of confusion regarding what FDPs people need to be signed up for, and what to do because they booked this super expensive overnight trip that conflicts with this little day trip they need to pass their class. So anyway, everyone was seasick in their cabins when I went into work this morning and I had to deal with relatively few people.

And now, an update on the food situation: they brought out grapes at lunch today!!! All I ever think about (well not really) is how much I miss my morning quart of grapes from Whole Foods. It was the best meal I've had aboard this ship.

So I Bought All These Magnets Before Leaving

...because the walls are magnetic. But I totally forgot to bring any pictures to hang on my wall with said magnets. So if you're ever bored one day, you should write down my next address which is listed under "Contact Me" over there on the right, and send me a cool picture of your lovely face so that I can decorate. =]

Heading Across the Atlantic

Sometime after noon today it was obvious that our journey down the Amazon was over and we are back on the Atlantic. You see, while we were on the Amazon the constant rocking of the ship ceased completely and it was smooth sailing. And then about halfway through work today everyone starting stumbling around again, trying to regain their sea legs.

Our journey will take us nine days total. Nine days of pasta and potatoes and iceberg lettuce. I'm already sick of it and bought a muffin from the snack bar for dinner instead.

Rumor has it that five students from our Amazon adventure (yes, the one I went on) have been quarantined. It's a little concerning.

The Amazon

I'm in Brazil. I'm sailing up the Amazon in a river boat. I'm in Brazil... I keep repeating that to myself over and over again and no matter how many times I say it, I can't comprehend it. My life has become something out of a book. Or a movie. Something you dream of constantly but somewhere in the back of your mind seem to accept that such adventures don't actually happen in real life. So you can't blame me for believing that I'm about to wake up back in Boulder, school five days a week, two jobs, barely enough money to pay rent... And yet here I am. The past four days have been more of an adventure then I ever could have imagined. I lived on an open air river boat with twelve other students and a crew that became our family. We slept in hammocks as we sailed up the Amazon river. We hiked three hours through the rainforest, visited a local village and played soccer and drew pictures with the local kids. We camped out in the jungle and roasted chicken skewered on sticks that we found and ate it off of palm leaves. We actually slept in the middle of the Amazon rainforest with all sorts of terrifying creatures from your nightmares, with nothing but our hammocks, but hey, it was the most unbelievable night of my life. We bathed in the river. We swam with pink dolphins. We fished for piranhas out in the pouring rain with bamboo sticks in a little canoe. I actually caught the biggest piranha you've ever seen, which we brought back to our cook on our little boat who prepared it into a gourmet meal for me. We went back out in the canoe at dusk to spot caimans - a smaller species of alligator. I actually held one. We visited an indigenous tribe who were kind enough to preform some of their ceremonial dances for us, and then invited us to dance with them.

I'm in Brazil. I'm sailing down the Amazon in a river boat. Forgive me for laying out nothing but the bare-bone facts but to go into depth of what I've experienced would take an entire novel. Maybe I'll post everything on here once I write it all down, maybe not, depending on how long it is. But ask me someday and I will tell you the complete story. It's a good one; I promise.