The Opposite of India is Malaysia?

I’ll let you actually judge if India and Malaysia are, in fact, opposites. They certainly felt pretty different to me.

Fun fact: In Malaysia, if you are caught trafficking drugs, you will die. That’s right, folks. You will be put to death. In Malaysia, if you are caught trafficking drugs, YOU WILL DIE.

For the second port in a row, I did not wake up to watch us pulling into port. I blame it on Lily, Alden, and others for keeping me up late. I will wake up as we pull into Vietnam, mostly so I can shout “GOOD MORNING, VIETNAM!” Anyway, actually getting into Malaysia took more time than the other countries because their customs and immigration procedures are run differently. Rather than their officials boarding the ship and inspecting us there, us passengers had to get off to get cleared. Nobody was allowed back on the ship until everyone was cleared. Sounds simple, right? I had a specific plan to meet up with Susie, Ryan, Natasa, and Ash in Tymitz Square after we all got cleared so we could set out on our adventure in Malaysia, which didn’t happen as quickly as it could’ve because it takes quite a while to clear over 800 people from a ship, especially when some of them like their sleep. After what seemed like far too long, we all finally met up. Lucky for us, there were Malaysian travel agents waiting nearby who helped us figure out our mode of transportation to KL. I’m kicking myself for using precious internet minutes the night before. We decided upon a bus at 12:30 from Penang. As the time drew close, we got a ride to the bus station, very briefly explored a nearby mall, and then grabbed our seats and set out on the 4 ½ hour ride south to the capital, Kuala Lumpur, fondly referred to as KL.

If you have ever taken a long distance bus in the United States, it was likely with Greyhound. You may or may not have not the fondest memories of the Hound, as I recall often feeling like I need to sleep with one eye open and my arm around my stuff in order to protect my possessions (and my life). Sure, I’ve had some positive memories, but the less-than-flattering stereotypes of Greyhound often come true on my ventures. Luckily, in Malaysia, it is very much the opposite. The bus we took was clean, comfortable, and carefully driven. You were even able to put your seat down far enough to sleep serenely. Greyhound, step up your game!

The ride was relatively uneventful. I mostly slept. What I saw of the scenery was ridiculously beautiful, though, featuring jutting mountains, green forests, and deep valleys. I wish it was less cloudy, but it’s rainy season in this part of the world, so the weather is damp and humid. We stopped at a gas station at one point and took advantage of Malaysian snacks. They had ice cream flavored soda that tasted like old cotton candy. County fair material? Almost. At the same time, however, we found a lot of American snacks like Kit Kat and Pringles. Also, there were things like hot dogs, so it certainly was reminiscent of a 7/11. If only they had the taquitos from the gas station I frequented this summer in the Springs. At the end of the day,  it’s a gas station, which isn’t exactly the pinnacle of culture (sorry, gas station employees!), so I’m not really sure why I’m writing about it in such detail.

When we arrived at the station in KL, we weren’t exactly in the middle of the city. After figuring out the taxi station, the five of us split up into two cabs. My cab driver was very talkative, telling us all about the political and social climate of Malaysia and the rest of the region. Did you know Malaysia and Brunei are both oil producing countries and that Malayan oil is extremely expensive in Malaysia? In fact, it’s the most expensive country-produced oil in the world in terms of the cost of it in the country that produced it. In other words, Malaysian oil costs a lot in Malaysia. I’ll think about that next time I’m filling a tank at the gas station, which may not be for a long time from now. Now that I’ve committed it to writing, though, I will definitely remember. Global citizenship, here I come!

Also worth mentioning is that Kuala Lumpur is extremely developed. Malaysia’s economy is very well run; the country, along with Indonesia, the Philippines, and Thailand, is considered one of the four Tiger Cub Economies. These four countries follow the economic model of an export-driven, highly developed economy of the Four Asian Tigers of Singapore, South Korea, Taiwan, and Hong Kong. There is also a large emphasis on education, manufacturing, and tourism, leading to this little pocket of the world feeling like a well-oiled machine of economic excellence. With that in mind, I encountered almost no poverty, crime, or dirt. Culture shock coming from India, much? The two countries could not have been more different, so it was interesting being thrown from one side of the spectrum to the exact other.

Our taxi driver dropped us off at our destination, the Ritz Carlton Residences. No need to read that again; my friends and I got to stay in a five star hotel during our three days in Malaysia. Thanks to the glories of Facebook continually shrinking the world, I reconnected with Chris, an old classmate of mine. Okay, not really, because he actually started attending my high school after I graduated, but we had many mutual friends, so we may as well have been classmates. Chris lives in KL, having relocated there about a year ago, and he offered to let us stay with him in his 34^th story apartment with him and his family. This marks two countries in a row where I have been able to stay in hotels for free. And I got to go to Robben Island in Cape Town for free. My bank account is thanking me.

Chris was still at school when we arrived, so we met up with his mother, Sylvia, and relaxed and showered while waiting for him. Ali, his father, showed up, too, so he and Sylvia told us a bit about KL and what there was to see and do. When Chris arrived, we set out to grab a bite to eat. We went downstairs and toured around the pool, spa, and gym areas. As you might expect, it was pretty swanky. The Ritz Carlton knows how to go big. We then walked next door to a huge mall. Notice how this is my second mention of a mall in Malaysia and we are still on the first day. Malaysians love their malls. Shopping and dining are very high quality, perhaps leading to the high emphasis on tourism in the country. We found the food court and ordered different traditional foods. I enjoyed some noodles and chicken cooked in traditional Malaysian style (I think). When we were finished, we left our trash at the table for janitors to clean up. They have specific job positions for people to clean up food trash. I guess that allows for more employment and a bigger job sector. Seems sensible enough, but it felt rather odd having someone else clean up after me while in public.

After our meal, Chris showed us around a few different parts of the city. For having only lived there for a year, he made a damn good tour guide. He had the swagger and panache of a well-seasoned local, something that often takes more than just a year to acquire. We were taken to both the KL Tower and the Petronas Towers, the buildings that are immediately noticed when looking at the KL skyline. The Petronas Towers are the tallest twin towers in the world at 1,483 feet and 4,252,000 square feet of floor area. A giant bridge connects the two towers between the 41^st and 42^nd floors. Unfortunately, the towers are undergoing repairs, so we couldn’t go inside, but we still took awesome exterior shots. Afterwards, the six of us went out on the town. Our first destination was Reggae Bar, an awesome local and backpackers bar with great music, drinks, and hookah. They also let patrons sign the walls, so we all signed our initials and such, as well as drew the SAS logo. If future voyagers go there, they will see us! Chris then left us as we explored the main strip of Chongka (spelling?). Similar to Long Street in Cape Town, there were many bars and clubs. We drank some more and enjoyed delicious street food for less than $1 and made it back to the Ritz sometime very late in the night.

The next day, Sylvia walked us around the Golden Triangle, the main financial and commercial district of KL. Some of us commented on how similar to Times Square in NYC and Piccadilly Circus in London it was. Gotta love that westernization. We bought a few trinkets and souvenirs before heading back to the Ritz to hop in our private car. Getting driven around in a Mercedes really made us feel far away from India. Our first stop was the International School of Kuala Lumpur (ISKL), where Chris goes to school. The campus was absolutely gorgeous, full of gardens, ponds, and lots of open space. We walked around the grounds, touring the sporting grounds, cafeteria, theatre, and offices. We spoke with some of the heads of the school about our adventure with Semester at Sea and they sounded totally amazed by the concept. Their school mission also includes “global citizenship,” so it’s no surprise to me that they were interested in speaking with us. For a private school, it has a shockingly low tuition, and over 60 countries are represented. Though not representative of the education most Malays are receiving, it was a wonderful tour.

After we left ISKL, we went on to visit the Batu Caves just outside the city. Malaysia is a Muslim country, but there is a heavy Hindu influence. As such, there are many temples devoted to gods like Vishnu, Shiva, and others. The Batu Caves is one of those temples, except, like the name implies, it is inside a cave. Outside the cave is a giant gold statue of Murugan that reaches as high as the cave itself. To actually enter the cave, you must climb 272 steep steps. CC fans, it’s the much shorter version of the Manitou Incline, because even though it only takes a few minutes to climb, it’s tiring. It doesn’t help that there are ridiculously cute monkeys running around all over the place distracting you. Once inside the cave, we explored the different shrines and statues. It was terribly humid and the ceiling was dripping, so we couldn’t stick around for too long.

Our final stop on our impromptu tour of KL was to the Central Market. Although it wasn’t as outdoors as some of the other markets I have been to this year, it featured many fascinating shops with Indian, Chinese, and Malay influences. I bought a handful of things, including some holiday gifts, and I had the tastiest milkshake ever. Also, much to my dismay, there was no bargaining; everything was a set price. BORING! In the end, though, it was a unique shopping experience which all of us enjoyed. I would like to go back to shop at a more authentic market, though. Chinatown is supposedly pretty great in KL.

Our final night was basically a repeat of the night before except we had a more formal sit down meal at a Turkish restaurant named Bosphorous. Andy, Chris’s older brother, and his friend joined us as well. We also drove to Putrajaya, the federal administrative center of Malaysia, which is somehow different than capital. Though it was late at night, the lights from the bridge we were standing on were beautiful. When we got back to KL, we played some games and tried to watch a movie, but most of us passed out. For me, the night didn’t really end. It evaporated into the next day. Chris and I stayed up all night watching the sunrise from his 34^th story apartment. It reminded me of staying up all night in London, except I got a much better view. I discussed with Chris how much this voyage has meant to me and how it continues to surprise me and shock me. I also thanked him for his hospitality, especially considering we were never that close of friends and were nothing more than simple acquaintances. We recalled with fond nostalgia the people we both used to go to school with and discussed how our lives have shifted since moving away from Virginia. It felt like I had stepped into a weird Twilight Zone where I was reexamining a life I feel even more removed from right now than the one in Colorado. Maybe I’m living three lives simultaneously right now with only one in clear focus. In any event, I was glad I had the chance to chat with Chris, a non-SAS friend, to get some outside perspective on what’s happening to me right now. Plus, the sunrise was one to remember.

Malaysia was a beautiful country, but I can’t help but think I got a very small slice of it. Not many Malays live in the Ritz Carlton and have a private driver. Despite the extravagance of my time, I had a spectacular three days of city life. Though I spent my time in urban areas, the country is extremely peaceful. Malays, Chinese, Indians, and other ethnic groups live together in perfect harmony. It is an excellent example of a 21^st century globalized nation that has maintained some elements of tradition. I hope to return to see the more rugged and rural side of it. Next summer: Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, and Laos!

Vietnam tomorrow! And by Vietnam, I actually mean Cambodia since I’m spending the first three days there. Southeast Asia, I have arrived!

Instructive India

India, more than any other country I have traveled to thus far, was didactic. The twelve hour train rides, the poverty, the extremely different ways of living, all of this and more added to an experience vastly more educational and reflective than previous ports of call. This is not to say the others were not, but India took the entire shipboard community by storm; people are still readjusting to life back on the ship; a new country tomorrow seems almost too soon since not many people are fully back from their own Indian experiences yet.

India, we were told, would be a turning point in the voyage. I feel a difference already. I feel an excitement, a NEED to continue traveling following the end of the voyage. I guess in that regard it won’t be an end, but merely a beginning, but I’ll touch on that in two months or so.

Kerala was interesting.

Growing up in America, I’ve been taught to believe in American ideals, especially in terms of economics. It’s the American dream, isn’t it? Earn your wealth, right? Capitalism and a free market economy have been been imparted into me for a myriad of reasons, and while I may not be studying economics, business, political theory, or anything within that family of study, I like to think I have a pretty decent understanding of American government and economic institutions. I grew up outside of D.C., so it was always difficult to escape it, though I suppose an overexposure to it made me somewhat jaded.

I may not have been alive during the 1950’s, so I don’t have a basis for comparison, but the Red Scare and witch hunt style politics have certainly made a comeback in recent years. Accusations of President Obama not being an American, claiming Islam as his religion, supporting socialism and communism, and a whole laundry list of other claims have sprung up in the media from worrisome Americans foolishly launching attacks against him and other politicians because of an intense fear of a different style of politics. I’m not saying Obama and his administration are socialist, communist, or any other “-ist,” but I definitely do believe they have a different idea of politics as we enter a more globalized world marketplace.

Kerala, where I spent my time in India, is primarily communist. Hammer and sickle flags were everywhere and I saw propaganda posters. We had a cab driver who I identified himself as a communist. At first, I was uncomfortable. America has instilled in me an inherent fear of communism; the idea of it may sound reasonable enough on paper, but the actual practice of it, according to what I have been taught by American society, is evil. As I am entering Vietnam in a week and China in two weeks, I’m wondering how I will feel in countries that completely identify as communist, rather than just a small portion of them.

Does it work? Kerala was a happy enough place. Sure, there were high unemployment and suicide rates, but literacy and education rates are astonishingly high. It’s considered first world, despite communist tendencies. Being exposed to different cultures means being exposed to different ways of doing things, both commonplace and vitally important to the structure of the country.

Actually having been exposed to communism first hand has made me realize just how typically American some of my views are, so hats off to Semester at Sea for getting one of their jobs done.

And frankly, if you think President Obama is socialist, communist, or anything within those families of political beliefs, you are very, very wrong.

Malaysia=TOMORROW!

Infinite India

A 12 hour train ride is a first for me. For sitting for so long, it’s pretty exhausting.  Granted, as soon as I finished writing my entry, I listened to a little music and fell asleep. I use that very lightly, though, because I tossed and turned for most of the bumpy night. My neck was sore in the morning from the lack of pillow. When we reached our destination, Ali, Brian, and I got off with a relatively vague idea of what we wanted to do: a backwater tour on a houseboat. Upon finding a taxi, we asked about the houseboats. Our driver took us on an hour long ride through Kerala down narrow city streets and alleyways and overgrown flora. It rained a few times along the way. There’s a reason why Kerala is so green all the time. The major difference between the rickshaw I took in Chennai and this taxi in Kerala is that this one took us directly to our destination—we did not stop at any stores, we weren’t taken on any sort of tour, we didn’t even get to pass “Go” and collect $200 (I feel like I’ve used that joke before…oh, well). When we reached the houseboats, we asked a few different owners about pricing. There didn’t seem to be that much variation, but there was certainly a range of quality. Some were dilapidated and dirty, others were fancy and fresh. After some deliberation, the three of us picked a fancier boat with air conditioning (a fan), a TV and sound system with speakers, and an upstairs balcony. Living large! We went to pay our taxi driver who we had decided upon a price for with prior to leaving the train station. As it turns out, he wasn’t really a man of his word, and decided to slap a few hundred extra rupees on our fare for his “help with deciding a houseboat.” Begrudgingly, we obliged. It wasn’t too big a deal because the exchange rate here is damn solid for traveling Americans. $1 is equal to 49 rupees, which we sometimes forget, so a 1,000 rupee fee is really only about $20, which is dirt cheap for an hour cab ride. Split between three people equally is about $6.50. Ka-ching!

We stepped onto the houseboat and removed our shoes—being able to walk around barefoot in such humid weather is probably the ultimate blessing; I don’t even like shoes all that much to begin with. Within a few minutes, we already were being pampered with coconut milk. Kerala is a tropical climate, so coconuts are all over the place. While we were happily sipping, we chatted with some British people on the boat next to us. They told us about a few different places in Kerala to explore and do. I also chatted up London to them and how awesome it was and how desperately I miss it (which I do—a lot!). Our boat slowly pulled away from the jetty and we lazed about on the backwaters for the rest of the day and night. We were provided with delicious snacks and meals along the way. Indian food is spicy and delicious, similar in that regard to Ghanaian food. I ate a fish head. It was fishy. I’m punny, I know. Allepey, the town we left from, is known as the “Venice of the East” because of the vast backwater canal system that many boats meander around. While nowhere near as built up as Venice, the Keralan backwater canal system boasted amazingly lush canopies of trees, vines, and other plants. Like I said before, it’s because of the rain. When we weren’t eating, we passed the time by napping, reading, talking, sitting, pondering, looking, arm wrestling, taking pictures and playing cards. Ali also led me in a brief yoga lesson while the sun was setting. The poses plus the humidity made for a lot of sweat. Even without the yoga there was a lot of sweat. Humidity is rough in most of India, but Kerala is especially muggy. So much downtime was perfect; relaxing on a houseboat isn’t something one does everyday…unless, of course, you live in Kerala.

After our houseboat adventure, we met our same taxi driver from the day before. He had given us his card to call him when we were ready to be picked up. Not entirely sure of our next destination, we asked to be taken to an area, any area, with hotels and restaurants. He drove us to Fort Cochi, a small town on the water that wasn’t exactly close to Allepey. We went to the tourism office and an internet café to figure out what our next course of action would be. A two day, one night tour of Munnar Hill seemed ideal—more time in nature sounded fantastic. The issue, however, was money. We debated over lunch what to do and decided to find a place to stay. We peeked into one hotel to try and see if they had rooms available. While they had space available, we wanted to look around some more. As soon as we left, however, we were approached on the street by a man asking us if we wanted to stay in a free hostel. Somewhat skeptical at this too-good-to-be-true offer, we hesitated at first, but being the money-conscious travelers we are, we decided to have a look. As it turns out, there were no but’s, catches, or fine print; we had found free lodging in the middle of southern India. How was this possible? The hostel was just opening and looking for clients to stay for free and write positive reviews about them online. Simple enough, especially considering they had free wi-fi, air conditioning, a big-screen TV, comfortable beds, clean rooms, and an incredibly friendly staff. We had stumbled across the jackpot of Indian hostels.

Much of the rest of our time was spent walking around and relaxing. During our preports about India, we warned about loudness. Kerala is the quiet part of India. That being said, there are plenty of things for travelers and tourists to do. Dutch and British colonial influence is still felt—we passed by a Dutch cemetery and right next door was a British gentlemen’s club. We were also warned that street food will rip our stomachs to shreds. We ignored that, opting to eat must of our meals from vendors. It was always touched by hands, wrapped in old newspaper, but mouthwatering and delicious. Often we would sit on the floor in the lobby of our hostel and eat straight off the newspaper; college has taught us well.

Our final two days in Kerala were especially exciting. We had been considering getting ayurvedic messages to see what all the fuss was about. After exploring several different spas, we stumbled into one that was attached to a cultural center. Stripping down, we donned these bizarre cloth diapers and laid on the tables, waiting for the masseuse. When mine arrived, he began by asking me to lie on my back. He poured oil all over me. Lots of different oils. He didn’t so much massage me as rub me and lather the oil all over my body on both sides. When that was finished, I had to hop in a steam room and let the oil settle all over me. Then I showered in a bucket. Taaaaaaasty. As strange as it was, I was oddly refreshed by the time it was over. I would probably do it again. Afterwards, we decided to take in a cultural show, which included Kathakali, a traditional Keralan dance theatre form that I’ve been learning about in one of my classes. Frankly, it was odd. And a little scary, especially when one of the performers jumped out into the audience. A few girls sitting near us ran out and didn’t come back. By the end of the show, only Ali, Brian, and me remained. I’m glad I witnessed it, though; 2,000 year old theatre is a very special thing to witness.

On our final day, we decided to head to the beach. A slow start in the morning prevented us from getting there as early as we would’ve liked. Once we set out, however, we didn’t look back. We jumped on the ferry and took it across the water to another town. Once there, we took the bus for over an hour up north to Cherrai Beach. The bus stop was about 3 kilometers from the beach, so we had to walk there. Tired and somewhat frustrated, I wasn’t exactly thrilled to have to walk, especially after the long bus ride. Upon arrival, we had to climb over some rocks to the beach. Beyond the rocks, there was the perfectly blue water of the Arabian Sea. I stripped down to just my shorts and jumped in the warmest water I have ever swum in. The waves were enormous and pushed me around all over the place. The water was salty. I realized to myself I was as far away from Colorado as I possibly could be on this planet. After all the weirdness and hesitation and strange emotions I had been feeling, I was finally at peace, in the water, floating far away from the land I love the most.

If there has been a country that has inspired me the most, it has to be India. Everything has given me this sense of ethereal wonderment. We were told it would be “an attack on the senses,” but that implies that it would hurt; I’ve felt such joy from the sensory overload of my past few days here. To be perfectly honest, Kerala is definitely not like the India portrayed in movies and other media. It’s cleaner, quieter, and slower. That’s what makes this country so fascinating to me, though. The people who chose the Taj and other “tourist” destinations are got a completely different India than me. I must come back. India is so big. Any adjective you want to describe India could in some capacity. Yes, it’s dirty. Yes, there’s poverty. Yes, it’s sad. In all its negative stereotypes and connotations, India is ultimately a beautifully complex land that I cannot write about as well as I wish I could; I leave that task to a writer far better than I ever will be. It is an impossible task to succinctly describe. It is impossible to not use hyperbole when talking about it. If Semester at Sea claims to give us appetizers about all the ports we visit, they gave us barely a glass of wine for India.

I will return for an indeterminate amount of time and backpack around the country. For now, we must move forward to Malaysia. I’ll probably write again before that, probably about India. If I had to pick a word for it all, I simply would choose this: mesmerizing.

Into India!

Preface: This was actually written on October 10th, 2011. It's being posted late because it took me a while to find an outlet to charge my computer and a working internet connection. Much has happened since the events of this blog, but that will be described at a later time. For now, here was my first day in India.

Okay, picture this. I’m sitting on a foldout bed in a train above Ali and Brian as we ride our way from Chennai to Cochin, two cities on opposite sides of India, a massive land of over one billion people. Ali is playing cards with a deck I lent her with a friendly Indian man and Brian is reading something on his kindle. We’ve been riding for about an hour and still have about 11 hours to go. How is this my life?

Up until now, I’ve been waiting until the end of ports (or way after, in the case of Mauritius) to write entries about my adventures and musings. I’ve decided to switch things up a bit this time. Everybody that didn’t support Obama’s campaign buzz word of “change” can go ahead and write me a personal letter of complaint about mixing my style to Sam Faktorow, 3^rd Deck Outside, The MV Explorer, Somewhere, The World, and I’ll do my best to respond in a prompt manner. I also expect it to be attached to an owl, simply because Harry Potter is awesome. Anyway, my primary reason to write something on the first day is I feel like I miss things when I wait until the end. Journaling on paper in a diary, for some reason, doesn’t do much for me. I mean, I understand the value of it, but I can’t seem to bring myself to journal on the same level most of my friends do. Plus, my blog here is basically my electronic journal, full of my observations, opinions, feelings, and questions. Second, today has been an adventure in and of itself. We were told there is no way to prepare for India and I already feel unprepared and overwhelmed. I love it, though. Thirdly, I need a way to pass a time on this train that doesn’t involve gnawing on one of the metal bars from my own stir crazy thumb twiddling.

The night before arriving into India, the yoga class I attend every other day on the ship was taught outside on the 5^th Deck. All you yogis out there, imagine sun salutations on the back of a ship as you approach into India, the very land yoga originated. If that’s not the perfect way to enter India for the first time, I don’t know what is. Though the humidity made it difficult to focus at times, it was still a moment of validation in terms of my yoga practice. I am certain I will continue as the voyage ends.

I did not wake up for the entry into Chennai. Frankly, the port is ugly. You can’t even see the city. It’s a huge change from the pink beaches, green mountains, and small skyscrapers of Port Louis, Mauritius and the touristy V&A Waterfront and blanket of clouds above Table Mountain of Cape Town, South Africa. I munched on my breakfast happily until I was called to retrieve my passport and go through customs. I had an SAS trip first thing in the morning, Yoga Demonstration in the Union on the ship. Though relatively short, I enjoyed watching and being guided through several moves and positions I had yet to do on my own. I was able to buy a book and an instructive CD as well, so hopefully those will come in handy.

Afterwards, I wandered out to the reception desk where tour guides had set up a little stand with guide books and maps. While I was there, I ran into Lou. Remember her? The splendid Swede (there’s that alliteration again) who set up the homestay in Senase, Ghana? Yes, her. The two of us decided we wanted to go into Chennai for lunch. I hurried to my room, set my yoga mat down, and changed into different clothes. I met up with her and Jeremy and sauntered off the ship into a brand new continent, a brand new world I’ve long heard about: Asia. Okay, so perhaps you might be thinking India is to Asia as Morocco was to Africa: not “Asian.” Whatever you want to argue, I am geographically and politically on the 4^th of four continents I will be visiting this year. I’d rather not think about how time is slowly slipping away, so I’m going to ignore that I just said that. Don’t bring it up to me if we end up conversing, reader, if you actually exist, that is.

Lou, Jeremy, and I made it to the outside of the port. Some rickshaw drivers met us, offering to drive us places. We were hesitant to take a ride, thinking we could save some money and walk into the city. After some bartering, we agreed to take a rickshaw with Vijay and Morgan. I believe his name was Morgan, at least. They both kept calling me “Sham,” “Slam,” and “Siam,” so for now, his name is Morgan. Vijay and Morgan took us on a brief city tour, stopping off at the beach, a church, a Hindi temple, two department stores, and a restaurant. While we were on the beach, they let us drive the rickshaw. Yes, folks, that’s right. I drove a rickshaw and did not crash. Maybe now I’ll be able to drive an actual car in America without wrecking it. We’ll see. The church we went to, St. Someone-Who-I-Could-Check-The-Name-Of-On-My-Camera-But-It’s-Buried-In-My-Backpack-And-I-Have-No-Internet-Right-Now, was one of the three churches in the world that contained the tomb of an Apostle of Jesus Christ, the other two being St. Somebody-Else in Spain and St. Peter’s in Vatican City. Having gone to Vatican City at the ripe age of 11, I am two for three on these churches. I’m a regular devout Catholic! As for the temple, it was right by a busy market and featured some pretty fascinating artwork. We weren’t allowed inside, but the exterior was captivating; pictures soon, potentially. The two stores, though, were basically the same: big, tacky, and filled with expensive trinkets for gullible tourists. My final stop, the restaurant, was definitely the highlight. Indian food takes the cake (ha) when it comes to all the countries we have been to thus far. It’s spicy, flavorful, and filling. Plus, we are expected to eat with our hands. A messy man need not complain.

The adventure didn’t stop there. Brian, Ali, and I were supposed to meet at 3:45 P.M. to venture to the airport in order to catch a flight from Chennai to Cochin, Kozhikode, or Thiruvananthapuram (yeah, I can’t say it either), one of the airports in Kerala, our destination for the week. Ali ended up being late, mostly because her FDP ran long. We weren’t too worried, so we hopped into a taxi and ventured to the airport, an hour away on the other side of the city. Well, as luck would have it, all the flights we had hoped to catch were sold out or too close to leaving to let us purchase a ticket. Who would’ve thought the last flight out would be at 7:15? Every ticketing agent said the same thing, which ended up getting a touch frustrating. Without even a trace of panic, we researched other ways to make it to Kerala that night. With the help of an airport employee, we found an overnight train from Chennai Central to Cochin via the Alleppey Express. Quickly piling into another taxi, we ventured back across the city to the train station. Through the massive crowds, poorly structured bureaucratic nightmare, and sweltering non-air conditioned heat, we somehow figured out how to purchase our tickets for the train. We scarfed down some food (sidenote: my meal cost less than $1 and filled me up perfectly; looks like my budget isn’t totally screwed from failed taxi rides!) and then found our platform. Inside the train, we set our stuff down, and relaxed as our adventure really started to take shape and come together.

I guess I felt inspired to write this because in this one day, I feel like India as a place, a body of people, and a world beyond anything else will never actually leave me. The smells already have pleasantly poked at and disgustingly invaded my nasal cavity. The people have been far more friendly and talkative than I expected. The beggars, though sad, are as much a part of the experience as anything else. The food cannot even be simply described. I have had to bite my tongue and keep cool at numerous points during the day in order to not let a jaded westernized viewpoint get in the way of trying to understand this confusing place. Keeping cool has been a theme as I’ve figured out how to navigate my way about.

India, so far, doesn’t seem quite real. The mystique so often portrayed and talked about is there and is as wonderful as I hoped for. India, so far, is shaping into an experience, rather than just a place. All of this from just one day may seem premature, but it’s true when people say India is in-your-face from the beginning. It hasn’t let up one bit, and I’m looking forward to more.

This took about an hour to write. Ten hours left in this limbo before stepping off into Kerala! 

Crossing Through the Indian Ocean

Oh. Hello, potential imaginary reader. And Mom and Dad. Hello Apologies for not posting in a long, long time—I wish I had an exciting excuse that involved amazing adventures while traveling in some exotic location, but really I just got lazy and overwhelmed with work. It’s Midterm Season around these parts, and since I haven’t had more than one midterm at a time since high school, I sort of fell off the radar. I don’t really mean that in the nautical sense, but we can pretend.

After we left South Africa, we entered a new ocean—the Indian. I began to feel far away from my world in Colorado, much like Neptune Day and the Equator crossing. I suppose I fell into a world of self-reflection and trying to understand my life from a distance, which probably added to my lack of writing. It’s strange because I was feeling inspired, especially after South Africa, but I couldn’t bring myself to write anything. I’ve only recently gotten back to it. I certainly came to some conclusions, but they’ll probably not be applicable after India and the rest of Asia.

During our long crossing across the Indian Ocean, we did have two days off, one of which was spent on land—Mauritius! Ever heard of it? It’s a tiny island nation in the middle of the ocean with an extremely dense population of 1.3 million. It’s a pretty newly inhabited land, so much so that we were told it’s colonial history is its history. My day there was spent on a catamaran floating around in the water with my friends and drinking delicious beer and swimming and getting horribly cut up by the coral and getting sun burnt and generally being a collegiate hooligan. To say I learned anything about myself in this country would be a bold faced lie, an utter fabrication of reality. You can’t really learn a whole lot in less than a day in a country that was utilized for having some drunken fun. That being said, it was a wonderful day in the sun with my friends. Here’s a little ditty I wrote:

Delicious Mauritius

(Sounds almost fictitious)

Was controlled by the British.

My rhyme scheme is repetitious,

But certainly not salacious.

In delicious Mauritius

I played with the fish

And made a deep wish

To one day bring a Polish

Back to delicious Mauritius.

You dig it? I bet you do, poet. Anyway, that was Mauritius in a beer-coated nutshell.

Many students were hoping for a day off to just rest after the inebriated whirlwind of Mauritius. Instead, we had the Sea Olympics! Divided into seas by where we lived on the ship, there were 12 different competing teams—nine student teams, one faculty and staff team, one Lifelong Learner team, and one dependent children team. I live in the Caribbean Sea and our color was purple. Make a “but where has the rum gone?” joke and I’ll kick you in the shins. We don’t have a Jack Sparrow (or a Zach Luna—I hope he reads this), so it’s hard to really make that joke, despite our mascot being the pirates (again, Zach Luna, I hope you are reading this—you’d be right at home in my sea). Anyway, the events were quite varied, ranging from a reverse spelling bee and trivia, to a popcorn eating contest, to synchronized swimming in the pool. In the end, the Baltic Sea on the other side of the deck from us was victorious, but us Pirates came in a solid fifth. Whattup! In all seriousness, though, we are the best looking sea, so we really won in the end.

Tomorrow marks our arrival into Chennai, India. Unlike many of my friends, I will not be venturing north to the Taj and all the “touristy” sites. Instead, I will be heading west to Kerala, a rural state on the Arabian Sea with many attractions and beautiful landscapes. I’ll be venturing around with no real set plans—just me, a few friends, and my backpack. Yes, I’m nervous, but I know I’ll be reaping incredible benefits from traveling in a small group of people with a level of spontaneity I have yet to explore while on SAS. It’ll be a reminder of London and Spain, but with even less structure. Until next week, namaste, dear India!

The South Africa Chronicles

We’ve come to the end of Africa, the very edge of a continent I have always felt oddly connected to. The constant repeat of Shakira’s Waka Waka has played its final note (her hips haven’t stopped lying, though), the Atlantic Ocean is behind us, and a whole new set of countries in Asia awaits. I will warn you up front, this entry is going to be long. South Africa did not have the same kind of progression or straightforwardness as Canada, Morocco, or Ghana. That’s not to say that those countries were simple, of course, but South Africa was a six day non-stop thrill ride of beautiful sights, complex feelings about myself and my surroundings, and late nights out with my friends. I’m going to split this entry up by each day, mostly because every day was extremely unique, also a differing feature of our time spent in Cape Town. Be prepared for a number of “best of’s.” So, here we go. I hope I don’t miss anything, but I probably will. I have in my other entries, but I’ll never really admit to that…even though I just did. Damn. Also, be aware that I’m going to be talking about alcohol, because it certainly made up a portion of my time in South Africa. Whatever, I’m legal here, so sorry for all you stingy prudes. Future employers, please still hire me, thanks. Mom and Dad, I’m still a good little boy, I swear. Everyone else…yeah, I got nothing. Let’s begin!


Day One, Friday, September 23rd, 2011: Sunrise Over the Table, FDPalooza, and Long Street Lounging


The general consensus around the ship for the couple of days leading up to South Africa was that the sunrise was something everyone should definitely wake up for, especially after the disappointment of the entry into Ghana. To be completely honest, in all its simple beauty and anxious nerves as we made our way up to the port, it was one of the best mornings of my life. Finally seeing mountains again, especially one as impressive as Table Mountain, was comforting and humbling. Plus, in Colorado, it’s just mountains, no ocean. Reflections on the water with the purpley-pinkish red sky left me utterly speechless and extremely overwhelmed with excitement and eagerness. After circling around for a bit, we pulled into the Victoria and Alfred Waterfront, a positively posh place with stores, restaurants, and tourists and locals mixing and mingling. It was a welcomed change from the less-than-ideal ports in Casablanca and Tema. The rest of the day was spent doing FDP’s, SAS-sponsored trips that we have to do for class. My frist one was on the ship in a classroom, so many of my friends got off the ship before I did. That being said, I’m completely okay with that because my FDP, Authors in Cape Town, was very inspiring and encouraging. We had three writers come and talk to us about, you guessed it, my favorite thing, writing. They were all very warm and open and gave great advice about the world of professional writing. Afterwards we had the chance to talk to them one-on-one and they all told me to go for it and to not listen to the people that tell me otherwise. So, all you haters out there, step off! Just saying. Anyway, my second FDP was a visit to the Gender Equity Unit of Parliament. We hopped on a bus to the building in downtown Cape Town. The city is modern and beautiful, a bit of a reminder of America and its cities. When we made it to the office, we listened to the man in charge (I can’t remember his name—oops) of the organization about South Africa’s efforts to bring equality to the genders and those that identify within the LGBTI community. Just like the authorts, he was really inspirational—he does amazing work for the disenfranchised people of the country. Afterwards, we went to Parliament itself and got to go inside the chambers. South Africa has 11 official languages, so they have 11 translators sitting in the booths above that translate for all the members. They also serve 5 year terms. Otherwise, it’s a pretty similar system to ours: its bicameral, members run and get voted on, and there are two other branches, which are located in Bloemfontein and Pretoria. My final FDP of the day was a night out at the theatre to receive a backstage tour, drink wine and eat cheese and other appetizers, and see Fiddeler on the Roof in order to write a review on it for class. Paging London, anybody? The night was wonderful, the show was fantastic (killer design and acting!), and the wine was, obviously, delicious. When the show was over, Gabriela and I decided to hit up Long Street to check out the bar scene. Though it was overrun by SAS students, it was a fun area with lots of lights and music. We met up with Brooke and Dip and tried to find this club they wanted to go to called 31/Atmosphere/nobody-really-knew, but we ended up at KFC instead. We then hopped in a cab and took that to two different gay clubs called Bronx and Crew. An evening to (mostly) remember, we were out until a solid 3:15 in the morning dancing with mostly locals who were completely awesome. And this was only the first day!


Day Two, Saturday, September 24th, 2011: Bikes, Wine, Cheetahs, Brandy, it Must be Stellenbosch!


Following a bitterly short sleep of somewhere in the neighborhood of four hours, I awoke in my bed, still a little drunk, and hobbled upstairs to Tymitz Sqaure to meet Ionna, Ali, and a handful of other people for a combination bike tour with wine and brandy tasting in Stellenbosch. Sounds a little dangerous, doesn’t it? We took a taxi to Long Street, met a guide, hopped on a train, and took it to Stellenbosch, an outer suburb of Cape Town in wine country. South Africa has the perfect climate for wine making, so there are a lot of vineyards and wine farms. When we got to Stellenbosch, we got on our bikes and set out. After a few minutes, we made it to our first wine tasting. Though we weren’t exactly dressed nice, after a couple glasses of wine, we were all feeling pretty nice. A solid buzz made our rides all the more enjoyable, though. Before making our way to the next tasting, we stopped at a cheetah sanctuary. After a small entry fee, WE GOT TO PET THEM. I PET A CHEETAH. HIS NAME WAS ENIGMA. HE WAS SLEEPING AND PURRING, WHICH WAS KIND OF BORING, BUT I GOT TO PET A CHEETAH. As you can see, it was pretty exciting. After my enigmatic cheetah experience with Enigma, we went to a brandy distillery. Ever tried brandy? Well, if you have, you’re probably a rich old billionaire. I’ve never met anybody who has actually tried it, and the stereotype is that it’s a snobby rich person drink, so we were all interested in tasting it. After a brief lecture on how to drink it (yes, there’s even a proper method of brandy consumption—you have to sniff it before you drink it, apparently), we all said bottoms up and downed our drinks. Okay, that’s not true. If you chugged brandy, you would most likely throw up, unless you have a stomach of steel. It is STRONG. The alcohol content was somewhere around 38%, so two tiny glasses that weren’t even half full was plenty to make us all feel pretty loopy. The next leg of our bike journey was the most wobbly. We stopped at a restaurant for lunch and had the most delicious meal outside, after which was followed by our final wine tasting. After all this alcohol, it was nice to have a very short ride back to the train station. When the train arrived, we all promptly passed out in our seats and arrived back in Cape Town in a foggy hangover haze. Later on, I discovered that there was free Wifi throughout the waterfront, so I skyped with a few people and caught up on Facebook and the like. Lots of SAS kids were utilizing it throughout our stay, and it didn’t seem like anybody was judging. Our next chance at free internet won’t be until at least India. The rest of the night was spent drinking in Mitchell’s, a local pub on the waterfront that was full of us students. It really was nice having a solid meeting place near the ship that brought so many people together. I certainly got to talk to a lot of different people each night we were there. Many of us SAS-ers also ended up at a club called Voom Voom for some awesome second-floor dancing.


Day Three, Sunday, September 25th, 2011: Not a Safari, Not Skydiving, a Township


After another long night with little sleep (this was a common theme on the ship for a lot of people in Cape Town), I was supposed to go on a safari for the day. I slept past our meeting time. My next option was skydiving. When I woke up for that, the thought of throwing myself out of a plane made me want to vomit, so I slept through that as well. Thinking my day was shot and my plans were all gone, I found a large group of people going to a township for a party. The idea intrigued me, especially because we were encouraged to visit a township at least once while in South Africa. We piled into a van, turned up the tunes, and jammed our way outside the city to the township. For those of you less in the know about South African social, political, and legal structure, townships were segregated towns for non-white people only during the age of Apartheid. Since white supremacy was the law of the land, townships received extremely poor government support. The townships were shanty towns of rows of shacks, essentially. I shouldn’t say “were,” though, because they still are poor, desolate towns of utter squalor. Driving through them was pretty depressing, but when we got to the party, the people were so happy, much like the Ghanaians. It was at a restaurant called “Mzoli’s Meat,” in which the meat was served in giant buckets full of different animals. I’m not entirely sure what I ate, or how much, but it was way too delicious. Messy, too, because there were no utensils or napkins involved. Nobody really cared, though, because once again, drinks were involved. If I’m sounding like an alcoholic at this point, I swear I’m not. Remember the previous countries? I barely drank. After the township party, we returned to Cape Town and I joined up with a bunch of people for Bailey’s birthday. We went to a restaurant right on the water. I didn’t eat much since I had already eaten on the ship, but I went for the experience. We were sang to by a South African band, including Shosholoza and their version of happy birthday. It was really entertaining and I’m very annoyed my camera died. Then, I went out again to Bronx and Crew. This time I went with Briana, Alden, Kevin, and quite a few other people that I don’t remember. It was fun going back with a different crowd, especially since there were a few other guys.  We left quite late once again. However, I didn’t go right to bed when we got back. Kevin, Alden, and I (but really just Alden and I) went and tried to play with the giant seals hanging out right outside of our ship on the dock. They were not happy, especially when we approached them. We ran off after they flashed their giant fangs. I then hung out with Alden for a bit and went and visited his sister who is also on the ship. We all stayed up pretty late just talking and chilling, but most of the details are a bit fuzzy. I think I went to bed around 5 in the morning?


Day Four, Monday, September 26th, 2011: The Peninsula


You guessed it—I woke up after only a little bit of sleep. Instead of blowing off my plans and figuring out things later like I did the day beforehand, I rallied myself and got up to visit Cape Point and the rest of the peninsula. From the moment I sat down in the van until our first stop at Camp’s Bay, I was passed out, which was somewhat worrying because I didn’t want to miss anything. However, when I opened my eyes when we arrived, I was blown away and promptly stayed awake for the rest of the day. There’s not too much to say other than that all of our stops (Camp’s Bay, Hout’s Bay, Long Beach, Cape Point, and Simon’s Town and Boulder’s Beach) were gorgeous. Hout’s Bay was one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. The mountains and cliffs rose perfectly from the crystal blue-green water and pleasantly touched the sky. Cape Point was really unique, too, because it is the most southwestern point of the African continent. We were literally at the edge of the world. They had a sign post with mileages of other major cities, so that certainly put it into a larger context. Also, just before we arrived there, we saw ostriches and baboons. Yeah, just chilling on the side of a road in a farm. Whatever. No big deal, right? Ostrich farms are real things in South Africa. Boulder’s Beach was fun since there were lots of cute little penguins. It’s currently their mating season, though, so we didn’t get to get up close and personal. However, since it’s their mating season, I’m relatively sure I heard two penguins getting up close and personal with each other. There were some pretty satisfied shrieks coming from behind the foliage as I was rounding one corner. That’s a noise I won’t be forgetting anytime soon. As the day was winding down, I thought about how lucky I am to be able to see such beauty all around the world. Then, that night, I went out again to a club with a bunch of other students on the other side of the city called Mercury and stayed out far too late again. Great success.


Day Five, Tuesday, September 27th, 2011: Robben Island, Table Mountain, and Dinner in the Trees


Robben Island is much like Alcatraz—it’s a former prison on a small island off the coast of the mainland. Nelson Mandela was imprisoned there for 18 of his 27 year imprisonment. 27 years is not even my entire life yet; I’d still have seven years to go before being released. Scary thought. Anyway, my favorite thing about the morning was that I got to for free. You heard it here first, folks, I weasled my way in without dropping a single South African Rand. It wasn’t easy, though, especially considering the ferry was sold out. I treid talking to the ticket office, but they were pretty unhelpful. As a final resort, I went and asked the people collecting the tickets. They had three extra. I asked how much one cost, but they said I could just take it and get on. The Jew in me was pleased. The ferry to the island was even choppier than the MV Explorer, but that’s mostly because it was much smaller. Even still, it was a fun reminder of rough seas and what we can expect between South Africa and Mauritius. When we got to the island, we were directed to a bus with a tour guide to take us around. To be perfectly honest, I found the tour to be a little lackluster. It was hard to understand our guide and too much of it was spent on the bus. It was interesting seeing Mandela’s jail cell and hearing our guides personal narrative—he was an ex political prisoner on the island. Since they rely so much on that, they don’t have placards or signs, so that makes it hard to follow along. Despite all this, it was still a pretty moving morning. It served as a reminder of humanity’s power to both destroy and forgive—although we can do horribly painful things to one another, we have it within us to look past that and move on sometimes. I really don’t have much room to complain anyway since I got there for free. After a small meal on the ship and changing into different clothes, a group of about eight girls and myself (piiiiiiiimp) took a taxi to Table Mountain, the magnificent constant backdrop of Cape Town. Standing at 1,084.6 meters above sea level, it’s that high in comparison to the mountains in Colorado, but it is a damn steep climb. For all you hipster/bro-y/hippie/Block Plan loving Colorado College folk out there, the hike up is a lot like the Manitou Incline. I huffed and puffed my way up while thinking about everything and made it up in about one hour and 45 minutes. Speaking of CC, while I was at the summit, Marek and I took pictures with my Colorado state flag. We know how to rep! In the middle of our improptu photoshoot, a couple came up to us and asked if we were from Colorado. We obviously said yes, to which they said that they were as well! We asked where they were from and they said Colorado Springs! I then said I go to CC and it turns out the woman used to work in the Res Life office! We rattled off a few names to each other and I knew a good handful of them. It really is a small world. The whole moment reminded that I do still have a life back in Colorado. I may not be there, and things may still be going on, but it’s comforting to know I have that a world to return to and not something totally unfamiliar and scary. The top was absolutely spectacular. 360 degree views of the water, the harbor, Cape Town, and the South African landscape. We spent about an hour and a half walking around up there and taking pictures and watching the sunset and just taking it all in. Other SAS students were up there, too. Some of them climbed, some of them took the cable car, but we were all glad we did it. For me, I wouldn’t have been able to leave Cape Town without having hiked up Table Mountain. Since the sun was nearly set by the time we were leaving, we took the cable car down. It was really scary actually because it rotated 360 degrees and dropped at a very steep angle. We made it, though! Unfortunately, we returned back to the ship later than we expected, so we had very little time to shower and get ready for our dinner at a treetop restaurant in Stellenbosch. Maria, Gabriela, Alden, Adrienne, Brian, Marek, Jordan, Connie, and myself all piled into our van and trekked it out there. The restaurant was right by one of the wineries I went to on the second day, so it was vaguely familiar. It was built into the trees, so we had to climb a staircase into the canopy of flora to our table. We placed our drink orders and then meandered downstairs to the buffet, a giant cafeteria-style line with giant plates of all different foods. I filled my plate up with meats, veggies, and so much food that it would make a fat kid at fat camp cry. I took the longest to eat, but that may have something to do with that I’m a slow eater. We also got serenaded by an a cappella group. They sang Shosholoza and a rock song. Dinner theatre, anybody? A woman also painted our faces with white paint, so we all felt pretty bad ass when we returned to the ship with our faces covered.  It was an excellent meal, shared with some truly wonderful company who made the experience that much better. After we payed the bill, Alden, Adrienne, and I wondered downstairs before everyone else and warmed up next to a fire. Some locals were there and they taught us a few words in their language of Xhosha. Total pronunciation fail, but whatever, it was fun. All of us left and then returned back to the ship. I spent some time with Gabriela. Then Alden joined us. Then Maria. Then Alden and I left and wandered around for a bit on the ship, greeting everyone as they returned from their nights out. It was my only night not really going out and getting silly from drinking, and I am okay with that.


Day Six, Wedenesday, September 28th, 2011: Saying Goodbye to Cape Town


I spent my final day with the Amy Biehl Foundation Trust. Amy Biehl was an anti-apartheid activist who was stoned and stabbed to death at 26 by the very people she was trying to help. Her parents then founded the non-profit in order to keep her memory alive and aid the poor townships of South Africa. Sad and moving, her story is ultimately a tale of triumph and the power of forgiveness in the context of post-apartheid South Africa, a place still plagued with inequality, racism, and many other disparities and problems. I urge everyone to read up on her story more and support the organization. We watched a video at their office before actually heading into the townships and visiting their schools. Disappointingly, the kids weren’t as excited to see as the Ghanians were, but they may have been because they are more used to white people. Again, it was all very depressing seeing all these houses that are no bigger than the room that I sleep in at home. I felt pretty helpless, but when you are only in a place for such a short amount of time, there isn’t much you can do. The most exciting part of the day was when we visited the final school. The kids there were in an after school arts program, so they put on a music, dance, and theatre performance for all of us. These kids are TALENTED. They have got some serious dance moves and vocal cords and acting chops. It very obviously made them happy, too, so it looks like the ABFT is doing its job well. Upon returning to the ship, everyone filed into the Union to hear the Archbishop Desmund Tutu address us. Yes, that’s right, Nobel Peace Prize Desmund Tutu. That guy. He gave the most powerful and uplifting speech, talking about how we have to keep dreaming and remaining idealistic in the face of adversity. He also talked about the story of Adam and Eve and how that is a great lesson in the interconnectedness of humanity and our constant desire for companionship. I was reminded of Adam Braun at a few points because he talked about how when we return to America, people won’t recognize us. People will wonder who we are because we will be so moved by injustice and not be able to be indifferent anymore. I’m feeling that already. He was quite the kooky old man, telling a lot of jokes and always smiling and giggling. He ended his speech by saying that God looks at Semester at Sea and cheers. He then called all of us awesome and ended it. Afterwards, he allowed us to take pictures with him. I got a great one of me cheesing like a complete goon, but whatever; how often do you get to meet Desmund Tutu and shake his hand? Not very often, if ever. I ate dinner and then watched the ship leave port, which I had yet to do. I stayed up at the front, which ended up clearing out pretty quickly. It was cool, though, mostly because I got to be by myself and reflect on not only South Africa, but the entire past month on this amazing, inspiring, and life-changing continent that is so vastly misunderstood, portrayed incorrectly, and wonderfully complex that I can’t imagine not returning.


And that, my friends, was Cape Town, South Africa, in the best possible way I could describe. I have so much more to say about it, and just Africa in general, but it’s 1 in the morning and I’m exhaused. Goodnight, Moon.

Just Dance

We could all learn a little from Lady Gaga. No, I’m not saying to wear ridiculous outfits made of meat, Kermit the Frog, bubble wrap, or any other zany material, and I’m not saying to make inappropriately long music videos featuring coarse nudity, themes involving murder and/or suicide, and excessive alcohol consumption, but I think she said it best during her early days to “just dance, it’ll be okay.”

Dance is a great way to release pent up energy, get some exercise, or just shake what your mama gave you (otherwise known as your booty). On SAS, there is certainly no shortage of dancing, and last night was a prime example. One of my bosses in the Communications Office, Spencer (the photographer!), has conceived the “SAS Dance Tribe,” a group of students devoted to silently boogieing down through the corridors of the MV Explorer. Yes, silently. But Sam! You need music to dance! What has the ocean done to you crazy fools? Well, a lot, but that’s another story.

It’s not entirely silent, but it’s titled that because there’s no sound system involved other than each individual persons iPod. Basically, Spencer created an hour long playlist of various songs that we were to all play at the same time and get down, shimmy, cha cha, tango, groove, or any other variation of simply dancing, or moving your body to the beat. We busted our moves from the Union, in and above Tymitz Square, in the Library, past the classrooms, in the Piano Bar, through the Garden Lounge, outside on the 6^th and 7^th Decks (despite ridiculous winds), wherever our perpetual beats took us. The best parts were the looks people gave us. Honestly, though, Shakira’s hips don’t lie, so why should ours?

Upon completion of the not-actually-silent silent playlist, some of us joined the shipboard community at large for a dance party in the Union (with a DJ and speakers and a single rhythm to dance to, mind you). Already drenched in sweat, I kept on dancing through the night, schooling a few poor souls in the occasional dance off. For a skinny white Jewish boy, I can really shake my tailfeather, though my mother probably would disagree. I’m really feeling it this morning; I’m quite sore. Was it worth it, though? Absolutely. Why pass up the opportunity to have some fun and release some steam after our first Global Studies exam and discussion day? There’s no reason, I say! No reason! Well, unless you have a broken foot or some horrible terminal disease, of course, but I’m pretty sure that doesn’t apply to anyone on the ship, which is a good thing.

Interesting feature of dancing on the ship: the motion of the ocean. Seas have been rougher than sandpaper, so we’d all shift a few steps throughout the Dance Tribe and the party in the Union. (I know the ocean to sandpaper is a weird comparison, but that’s all I’ve got right now. Work with me here.) Let’s be honest for a moment, though: that was part of each of our individual improvised routines, and it looked really, really awesome, despite making things a bit tricky at times.

T-2 days until South Africa. Even though I used it in Ghana, it still applies: Waka waka! This is Africa!

P.S. I'm at work right now, using my other bosses Internet. I'm a sneaky sneak, I know.