Food Poisoning and Serentity in India

As the ship approaches India everything on decks 5 and 6 gets wrapped in plastic, and anything in the close quarters of the gangway is shrink wrapped and covered in cardboard in anticipation of the onslaught. As each nautical mile carried us closer to the epicenter of humanity, the MV Explorer prepared. The crew and ship braced themselves by wrapping the ship in plastic as protection and the faculty and staff attempted to prepare and brace our hearts for what we were about to embark on.

Nothing can prepare you for India.
Nothing.

Professors and the two wonderful inter-port students alike attempted to give us a taste of India, to prepare us for what we were about to experience. Nothing can prepare you for India. India seeps into the cracks and crevices of ourselves that cannot be covered by plastic or guarded by shrink wrap. India awakens a part of you that had previously been dormant. India changes you.
Or, at least, India changed me.

Due to budgetary constraints, I was confined to Chennai, the port city in the southern part of India. Chennai is a working city- there are no tourist attractions- just Indians going about their everyday lives. Even the Lonely Planet guide book I consulted before arrival had this charming diddy to say about Chennai- "you would be hard pressed to find anything to faun over in Chennai". And yet- my love for India blossomed in Chennai, this unlovable working city in the south of India- a love that blossomed against all odds.

Stepping off the ship in India is even a shock- the mere act of taking your first few breaths on Indian soil is an experience. I was reminded of the line from Lord of the Rings "One does not simply walk into Mordor- it is folly. The very air you breathe is a poisonous gas". So it is in India. The country has industrialized so quickly that it is evident in every inhale that the environment is suffering painfully. Upon a closer inspection, India bares other scars of rapid industrialization; over-population, extreme poverty, rivers soiled with human waste, streets lined with large piles of trash everywhere. India is a country of vibrant colors, Bollywood and promise, but it is also a land of decay and waste.

On our first day in India a few friends and I took off for a shopping area call T-Naggar. The only way around Chennai for the traveler on a budget is by auto-rickshaw. Eight of us left the port and divided into two rickshaws. Now, the first thing you should know about India is that the most unlovable part of India is the auto-rickshaw drivers. Getting them to take you where you want to go is nearly impossible. They take you to gas stations, shops you have no intention of shopping in and you often end up at a location that is not the one you requested. Plus, haggling over the price of the ride is exhausting and can turn hostile. Not to mention the roads in India. Just like the rest of India- the streets are filled with people, animals, trash and human waste. In order to be a driver in India I think you need a lot of aggression and an approach to life that is a combination of reckless abandon and a maniacal death wish.

That being said, I never felt more alive than the moments I spent in the back of an auto-rickshaw, frightened for my life, unable to breath (between the polluted air the sheer number of us squished in the rickshaw), the driver, a man named BaBa, swerving around the packed road to get us close to a bus so that he could shout "Touch it! Touch it! Touch the bus!" until we complied and reached out to touch an equally packed public transportation bus. There is something about that kind of mayhem, that feeling that you could die at any moment so you might as well enjoy the ride, is unlike any I have ever felt.

The next day I made a fatal mistake. After another long day of haggling with rickshaw drivers, bartering for prices and walking around in the hot Indian sun, I decided to indulge in one of the great loves of my life; Chinese food. I am not one for spicy food, something that is difficult to avoid in India and my love for Chinese food knows no bounds. At that particular moment in my life China felt like an age away and the ships asian inspired meals were... not too inspiring. As I ate my food happily, I had no idea that I would come to regret the choice of Chinese food more than I would regret any choice I made on the trip.

It hit me just after I had laid down to go to sleep. That intense discomfort that can only mean one thing- I am about to vomit like I have never vomited before. I practically fell off my top bunk and ran to the bathroom and settled in for what was about to be one of the worst 36 hours of my life. I'll spare you the details, dear readers, but know that I have never been that disgusting or disgusted in my life.

By the time I was healed enough to venture out into the city again, armed with a pepto and an intense fear of Indian cuisine, I had only one desire- to visit a temple.

Here, I will give you a short history of me and my religious beliefs. Be prepared to be offended (though I do not intend for this to be so).

All throughout my high school career I had been a devote Christian. I led the worship band for youth group, mentored other students, went to bible study and church camp every summer. My senior year, a friend of mine was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. By my graduation she had gone into remission and we all thought she was on the road to good health. I was slated to attend a Christian university, Palm Beach Atlantic, when the unthinkable happened. Before we knew it, she was gone. She was only 19 when she died. I self destructed- I spiraled into a depression that I was helpless to escape, and for two years I struggled with my faith as I tried to tread water. I left the church and haven't been back since.

It wasn't until I moved to North Carolina in an attempt to get my life back and attend Appalachian State that faith re-entered my life. by some off chance I signed up for a class on Genocide Studies that was immediately followed every Wednesday with a class on the history of Christianity. More than once that semester I called my mother in tears, wondering why the world was such an awful place to be. Despite the depressing semester, I found my major with those classes (Religious Studies with a minor in Peace Studies... so pre-poverty with a minor in depression) and met my wonderful academic advisor and his wife, two of the greatest influences in my life. I also found Hinduism.

I'm not claiming to a Hindu by any stretch of the imagination. I cling to the label 'agnostic', unable to abandon belief in something and unable to pin that belief to any one entity. Hinduism is the closest thing to what I believe that has a label and so, I was very excited to go to a Hindu temple.

The Ramma Krishna Mutt temple is like a small oasis in the world, tucked away behind a large gate a even larger trees. I spent the morning and afternoon there, meditating on faith, on my friend, my family, and on hope. There are only two places I have ever felt that in touch with myself, my faith, and (as corny as it sounds) the universe, and they are a Buddhist temple in Malaysia, and the MV Explorer. The Ramma Krishna Mutt temple was a reminder to me that in the (literal at that moment) shit-storm of my life, there is still peace, there is still hope and there is still serenity.

India is a place of extreme contradiction, poverty and wealth, beauty and destruction. The very sad and the very happy are neighbors in India- but it remains, without a doubt, a magical place.

I know I'll be back to India soon, and this time I'll stay away from the Chinese food.

Friendship in Mauritius

Hi! Remember me? I'm that girl, Mallory, who used to write on this blog. I should be publicly shamed for my negligence, but instead I am coming back to beg forgiveness. I'll spare you all my apology and just dive right in.

Mauritius is like a dream- a super short dream filled with clear blue water, pina coladas and good friends. Semester at Seas time in Mauritius is severely limited, thanks to the thoroughly charming behavior of past voyages (who mostly just get super drunk and destroy things). Thanks to that truly diplomatic behavior of past voyages, our time on the island was very short- only one day. So, I had to make it count. This was the first port where all my new SAS family members had nothing planned, and so it was the first place that felt like a home away from home with the best people on the planet.

I began my day with my friend Joe. Joe's brother is married to an Indian woman who grew up in Mauritius and had a request; to find her childhood home and take a picture of it for her. What we didn't know is that her old home is on the same street as the Prime minister's primary residence on the Island. So, we make a wrong turn and there are armed guards- oops. BUT, eventually we did find it and creepily took a picture of the house (I never quite as creepy as a do when Im with Joe).

After our trist into creeperland, we finally made it out to the star destination of the day- the beach. Mauritius has some of the best beaches in the world and the beach we landed on, Flik'n'Flak Beach, had to easily be one of the most beautiful beaches I have been to in my life (and I grew up in Florida, so I have some expeirence with this). The heart inside my lifeguard chest rejoiced in the crystal clear water and the weak currents. Plus, with the help of SPF 50, I remained pastey white and sunburn free!

The true star of the day were the people I was with. These people have become my family here on the ship and I will be eternally changed because of them.

Ubuntu in South Africa

        We all have those cities or places that we feel drawn to- pulled to by some higher power. South Africa is one such place for me. Anticipation for South Africa was intense- the crew told us stories of past voyages and places to go, movies and seminars on the culture, beauty, and history sparked our imaginations. I began to worry that hype of South Africa would somehow out do South Africa, a phenomenon that occurred for me in Ghana. I began to fear that this place I had dreamed of visiting would somehow be… less. 
        In anticipation, we all rose at 5 am to watch the sun rise over Africa as we approached Cape Town. As the sky was stained orange with the early morning sun, I felt like I was coming home to a place I had never been before. I felt more spiritual watching the skies slow progression from star-studded blackness to cloudless blue than I have in any mosque or cathedral. There are no words to describe the beauty and feeling of that morning, as I watched Table Mountain rise in the distance and Cape Town come into view. Just know that it was probably the most magnificent morning of my life. The hope that I would come to associate with South Africa lived in that sunrise.
       
        South Africa is a land of juxtapositions. It’s a land of beautiful waterfronts, and tin siding slums. It is a place of decaying buildings and electric fences.  It is a place where there is, simultaneously, tremendous wealth and heartbreaking poverty. It is a place where the poorest of neighborhoods have tremendous hopes.
        On my fourth day in South Africa I met a cab driver named Phira. Phira is a native Cape Towner, having been born in Langa, a large township. As he drove us from the V&A Waterfront to Langa on a township tour, Phira explains to us that Langa was the first township for settlement when District 6 was disbanded and forcibly removed. Langa, he says, means the sun, so that the sun will shine and bring prosperity to the people who live there. Phira is hopeful and optimistic as we turn into Langa. Immediately it is clear that Langa, too, is a land of contradictions. We drive in and immediately pass the small one or two room brick structures that are the government built homes for those living in the townships. The lawns are clean and houses seem well kept. We drive on, maybe twenty feet, and the brick structures give way to shacks of all different colors and sizes, leaning on each other for support, covered in many layers of dirt and grime brought on by years of human habitation. This is where the majority of the people of Langa live.
        The unemployment rate in South Africa is estimated to be between forty and fifty percent, a fact that is painfully obvious as we get out of the cab and walk to a bar that brews a traditional South African beer made from wheat. It is only two or three in the afternoon, yet adults of all working ages are sitting in the shady spots near the bar. No one has a drink. We walk into the bar and buy the beer for the people we meet. It’s a traditional beer that is brewed in what appears to be an oil drum and is served in metal pails. We pay our twenty rand for the group and pass the pail, waiting for the stories to begin. It takes only a few minutes, our driver, Phira and a friend of his named Luke, were freedom fighters in the fight to end the apartheid government in South Africa. They show us scars from their youth, scars from the fighting, but quickly the conversation turns to Ubuntu. South Africa is clearly a country weary and tired of violence, even in memory.
        I had heard the theory of Ubuntu in a religious studies class a few years ago, but I hadn’t been prepared for its presence amongst the poorest of South Africa. One of the girls I traveled with asks Phira and Luke how they could forgive those who had tormented them for so long. Their reply is simple- we must. They say that the white Afrikaans were victims of the same system they were subject to and that they must forgive. After all, Luke says, Does God not forgive those who betray and lie and steal? How can they withhold what God gives freely? I’m not sure I buy into the God bit, but even without it, the statement is deeply profound, moving.
        Hope is the driving force in the Langa. People are hopeful that they will get a house, hopeful that they will have work soon, hopeful that their children will get an education, hopeful that their circumstances will get better. That kind of hope is truly inspirational from people who have next to nothing, especially for a westerner who feels so little hope in her country for the future. After all, if these people can have hope when they have nothing, how can I withhold hope when I have had everything?

        I think that is what I learned most in South Africa. I learned to have hope. When we went whale watching off the coast of the tiny little gorgeous coastal town of Hermanus, we sat in a silent boat and watched three Right Whales dance not 20 feet away. The awe that those beautiful creatures inspired was one of hope. The whales continue to be nearly extinct, but the beauty of their presence off of South Africa fills one with hope.
        Hope lived in the cell of Nelson Mandela on Robben Island. Hope danced on the face of every child who played jump rope with me and in every person I met smile. Hope is so palpable in South Africa I though it might become tangible at any moment.
        It’s pretty contagious, too, the hope of South Africa. On a couple of nights some friends and I decided to go out for dinner and drinks. Any of those who know me are probably choking on the very air they breath. I don’t go out in Boone, North Carolina, let alone strange, exotic destinations around the world. But I was soaked with the hope of South Africa and braved an Irish Pub call The Dubliner, and a gay bar called Crew. Both were amazingly fun. I sometimes worry that I don’t enjoy being 22. I worry that I focus too much on the future or the past, without remembering to have fun. But, as I danced with some friends as the technicolor lights flashed at crew, I knew I was exactly where I am meant to be- even when I’m being cautious. I may not have sweet dance moves, but I am learning to enjoy myself a bit more, and for that I will always love South Africa in a special way.
        I was incredibly sad to leave South Africa. Both parts of South Africa hold a special place in my heart. It felt like home the same way the MV Explorer felt like home. I know I can’t wait to go back.

The First Bus to Accra (Ghana)

The ship is buzzing with tales from Ghana. Mostly for me Ghana was a mixed bag; I enjoyed my time there and I didn’t. More than anything I was astonished. Astonished by the people, by the smells, by the cities, by the trash, by the children. I was just astonished.

The ship docks in Tema now, which is a good 22 miles from the capital city of Accra. There is a closer port but the good ole’ MV Explorer can’t dock there anymore thanks to the drunken escapades of students from past voyages, so SAS was kind enough to rent us buses to take us to Accra every two hours. However, Ghanaian roads are not set up to handle the number of cars driving, so traveling the mere 22 miles from Tema to Accra can take anywhere from one hour and forty minutes at best, and over four hours at worst.

After getting my passport on the first day docked in Tema, I head out to the bus ready to experience a true sub-Saharan African country. A group of African singers and drummers were outside the ship playing music and dancing, welcoming us to Ghana and a series of vendors had set up in the port right outside the ship, but I passed both and boarded the first bus the Accra. The time was around eleven o’clock in the morning when we left, but even with a police escort, it took nearly two hours. That first two hours were fun though, as people waved at us from outside the country felt far friendlier than Morocco had on that very first night.

As we pulled into the parking lot of a club and restaurant called citizen Kofi, however, it was clear that the big green bus and the police escort had warranted us some unwanted attention. A large group of young Ghanaian guys were dancing along side the bus, jumping up and down and shouting. I came to learn that Semester at Sea has only been coming to Ghana since 2009, but a new profession has emerged because of it and that is a special kind of mobile street vendor that caters almost specifically to Semester at Sea students.

We got of the bus and walked straight into the hands of these street peddlers or hawkers and immediately they are all smiles. My brain was reeling- I was being hugged and hand shaked everywhere I turned and before I knew it I had a bracelet that said “GHANA” on my wrist, sporting the Ghanaian colors of red, gold and green. Having learned my lesson from Morocco, I instantly gave the bracelet back- I had no money yet (I still needed to find an ATM) and really didn’t want the tacky bracelet. “No, no,” the man said, “it’s free free. Akwaba!” Akwaba means ‘welcome’ in Tri, a local Ghanaian language. I protested again, Morocco also taught me that nothing is ‘free free’. Nothing. But the man insisted and I went on my way in search of an ATM. 15 minutes later, after successfully procuring money, I turned around and there was the vendor who had slapped the bracelet on my wrist, now demanding 20 cidis for the bracelet (that I hadn’t asked for and had tried to give back). The man was smiling, but wouldn’t accept that I was not going to pay for it. Eventually I thrust it back into his hands and somehow got away. But as we stopped for a traditional Ghanaian meal of Fou-Fou (a play dough like substance with no taste and a strange texture) we all spoke of how much we liked the guys we had met and who had tried to sell us bracelets. Sure, they wanted to rip of off, but they were friendly about it! In Morocco the people were relatively straight forward, the small talk and flattery only lasting a few minutes before hard-core bartering began, but here they wanted your money and they wanted to be your friend! How fun!

By the third day in Accra something about their sales method had begun to rub the wrong way; they started to feel distinctly predatory and aggressive. They still smiled and called me sista, but something was wrong. We would duck into shops or restaurants for a coke hoping to lose the salesmen, but they would gather just outside the door in packs, waiting. I had begun to feel weary and hunted, like those cute baby animals in discovery channel documentaries, running from a predator. I began to feel like I was constantly being hunted.

The streets in Ghana are surrounded by little stands that are charitably called shack, selling everything from fish to candy to clothes. In all the parts of Ghana I saw, these collections of shacks are everywhere, the preferred means of commerce for the people. No matter where we were, the middle region, Cape Coast, Tema, Accra, everywhere the shack malls spread out in the hot African sun. The streets are lined on each side by a trench about one foot (maybe a foot and a half) deep. This is the sewage system. Uncovered in most places, people stop on the street and defecate or urinate right there. Unlike Morocco, the smell never leaves. The ever-present smell of human waste and trash is always present. Speaking of trash- I was unprepared for the amount of trash. Even in the countryside, there is trash everywhere. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.

On the Second day we decided to say so long to Accra and head out to the coast. Along the coastline of Ghana sit three slave castles- two in Cape Coast and one in Elmina. We rented a car and driver and set out around noon. Once we arrived, the same bracelet hawkers waited outside our car for the doors to open, and we ducked into the castle. Once you walk through the gates an instant solemn quiet overcomes you. Other than the group of guides gathered smoking just outside the ticket desk, no one smiles or laughs here. We went to the slave dungeons/castle at Cape coast, a former Dutch and British Slave post. I wont say that the visit was fun, but it was without a doubt meaningful. I believe that places have memories, and that place without a doubt remembers (Id like to think that any remaining vestigages of spirit in that place have moved on to a happy place). You walk into the dungeons and rooms where the people were kept and you can feel like many people suffered a lot there- the suffering presses in on you, suffocating you in darkness. The reminder of the great atrocities that human beings commit against each other is hard to witness. I took some pictures, but mostly I felt like taking pictures was some kind of injustice to the memory of the place. It’s not a tourist destination, but rather a place to confront humanities truly dark and demon ridden past… and how can you capture that in a photograph?

Our drivers name was Ali (pronounce All-lee). He was a truly awesome person. He didn’t talk to us a whole lot, he was very professional, but at one point we got stopped at a Ghanaian Police checkpoint, where they waived us over to the side of the road, not letting us pass and keeping Ali’s drivers license. He pulled over to the side of the road and got out of the car to talk to the police. A few minutes later he came back to the car and explained to us that the police wanted a bribe. When he refused to pay, they gave him back his license and sent us on our way. But as Ali explained what happened he said, “This is beneath Ghana”. I am sure he is right.

On the third day we went back to the area of Accra called Osu. It’s the place I met the little girl the other day. We went back to play with some kids we had met on the first day and give away some of the candy and things we all have for children. However, it quickly turned into a sad affair. The children we encountered were doing laundry in buckets near the sea. They were 9 and 10. School wasn’t supposed to be out for another hour. It broke my heart that these two little girls were not in school, but were washing the clothes for their large family (5 younger siblings). We talked with them for a while (they couldn’t play) gave them some candy and coloring books, but it all felt wrong. These girls don’t need candy and coloring books, they need to be in school. They need to have bathrooms, not trenches. They need new shoes and proper food and mosquito nets and houses that aren’t falling down shacks. Candy and coloring books feels too small. They feel like nothing in the scheme of things, as I suppose they are.

We left the candy with a mother of a large family and left shortly after to make the bus back to the ship.

Despite all the books I have read and documentaries I have watched on Africa, nothing seemed to prepare me for what I saw. The diplomat that gave us a briefing before we left the ship said that Ghana, as one of the only stable democracies in Africa, is Africa-light. If this is how the most developed Sub-Saharan African country is (with the exception of parts of South Africa), I can’t imagine what the rest are like. I can’t fathom that kind of neglect and poverty. I just can’t.

Ghana had its lighthearted moments. We saw a Spanish soap opera called, ‘In the Name of Love’, badly dubbed in English as we ate ice cream, laughing with the young woman who ran the shop at the cheesy lines. We shared stories with a barman over Cokes as we ducked away from some street vendors. We banded over the play dough like Ghanaian food of fou-fou. We marveled at the women who balance everything from stacks of toothbrushes to sewing machines on their heads.

Ghana has made me think long and hard about my life; about the comforts I enjoy, the home I am lucky to have, and just how much I am fortunate to be born when and where I was. It also made me think about my aspirations to join the Peace Corps- is it still something I think I can handle? After Ghana, I believe I can. I also have emerged with my desire to help others, and to meet others in this great wide world in tact. Morocco started hard and got easier, Ghana began easy and got more difficult. Traveling continues to be a true learning experience.

Here's Looking at You Kid (Morocco!)

We arrived at Morocco and I didn’t really know what to expect. I knew two things; I knew I was scared out of my mind, and I knew I was more excited than I have ever been in my life. Anything outside of those two things, I did not know.

Morocco is a land of juxtaposition; Billion dollar Mosque across the street from total poverty; men who are dressed like any other man on the planet and women who are in full head to toe coverings; nothing about Morocco makes sense if you think about it too much. That’s just how Morocco is.

I went with a group of students who traveled to Marrakech independently. Marrakech is an incredible place, though getting there was quite a challenge.
My group boarded a train to Marrakech without much of a game plan. We have the address of our hostel written down on a few sheets of paper and didn’t think we would have a problem getting to the hostel. But, as Semester at Sea keeps telling us, the ‘F’ word of the voyage is ‘flexibility’, and the 20 of us had no idea just how true that was going to turn out to be.

Outside the train station in Marrakech we were immediately overloaded with sights and sounds. The 20 of us stood outside the train station and just marveled for a few minutes- and that was a mistake. A group of 20 western looking college kids with overnight packs, standing looking lost is a temptation no self-respecting Moroccan cab driver can pass up- and they didn’t. Since we didn’t have a clear plan or any person in charge, we were easy pray to get hustled into cabs and way overcharged to get dropped off into the hands of more Moroccan men waiting to relieve us of our money. The cab drivers deposited us in a busy intersection in the dark Moroccan evening, pushing us into the arms of 3 young, 25 ish) Moroccan men. They offered to walk us to our hostel (which, we came to learn, is down an ally that is not accessible my car or donkey, just by foot). We knew that this was a sketchy plan, so tried to tell the guys la shukkron (no thank you in Arabic), but they weren’t having any of that. Having to choice but to walk in the direction of the hostel behind the guys, we began our 15-minute trek down creepy urine smelling allies in pursuit of our hostel. We kept tell the men that we would not pay them, and they would reply that they just wanted to help out their ‘American friends’ and would not require payment. ‘What is money?’ one of them asked me, illustrating that he had desire to take payment. Ha. That was a joke. By the time we reached the door of our hostel the group of 3 guys had swelled into 5, and now they didn’t seem to remember that they didn’t want money. They barred the door and now demanded a payment of 100 Dirham each. We argued with them for what seemed like an eternity, growing more frustrated with Morocco every minute. Once the threats of violence began to fly, we each paid the 20 Dirham and eventually than left, laughing as the disappeared out of the ally.

As we entered the hostel, we had begun to hate Morocco.

Luckily, our hostel was a fortress inside; an Arabian palace from one of those old black and white movies, it was like stepping out of a nightmare and into a dream. The hostel that night served as our safe place in Morocco that felt hostile and frightening. We went up to the rooftop that night to look up at the moon and stars, sharing a bottle of wine and eating couscous.

The next day we decided to give Morocco another chance and headed out to the medina (the old market place filled with shops and souks). In the daylight, Morocco wasn’t nearly as frightening. We did some shopping and had lunch at a small food vendor (tarjine aux les legumes! Yum!) now that we had splintered into smaller, more manageable groups. We even made an attempt at bartering. Walking through the medina was like walking through a real life Aladdin (though it smelt pretty bad in certain areas). The narrow alleys and winding roads have laundry draped across, drying in the sun. Music plays from street performers and shops. It was truly magical.

But if the medina during the day was magical, I have no description for the medina at night. The medina at night is a whole new place. The main square, empty during the day, is now wall to wall with food carts, selling everything from strong mint tea to rotisserie pigeon. Street performers, magicians and story tellers gather crowds in large circles, and without the sun beating down on you, you feel like you can actually breathe at night (the guys in our group didn’t know how lucky they were. We ladies were in long pants or skirts, long sleeves and head scarves often, just cooking in our own skin).

Bartering for taxis is horrible for women. Darrell, a fellow male student who live on my deck, decided to adopt our group, gets his way all the time. Every once and a while, however, one of the taxi drivers waiting outside train stations, port gates or hotels wont see Darrell to approach him and will instead approach one of the girls. Earlier today one saw us and immediately started bartering with me, until he saw Darrell, who doesn’t speak French (French is super helpful here). Darrell (who is called Denzel Washington by all the merchants and venders) was using me to translate and the man kept trying to get me out of the conversation. Unable to do so politely, he eventually turned to me and said in broken English “In Morocco the man makes the deal”. Darrell then took my arm and walked away from the driver. Darrell has been nice enough to take care of our group (now splintered into only 6 or 8 girls depending what we are doing) while in Morocco. Last night while in the Old Medina (a street square with performers, food venders and shops) a man put a monkey on my shoulder, and immediately demanded payment for the pleasure of having the monkey there. I refused to pay, and Darrell stepped in to get the monkey off my shoulder. He watches over us like a mother duck, leading our caravan through the markets, turning around occasionally to count and make sure we are all still there. He even tries to keep all 8 of our butts from being harassed in crowds- a harassment that is a mixture of pick-pocketing and copping a feel. It’s a near impossible task, but poor Darrell tries really hard.

Anything can happen the medina. A monkey was placed on my shoulder by a street performer who offered to take pictures with it (to which I said no thank you), snake charmers wave snakes around, draping them on unexpecting passers-by. The square is crazy and magical all in one.
The next day we said goodbye to Marrakech and took the train back to Casablanca, and returned ‘home’. It’s amazing how quickly the ship has started to feel like home.

On our last day in Morocco was spent exploring Casablanca. We went to the King Hassan II Mosque, the third largest mosque in the world (the first two largest are in Saudi Arabia). The mosque is located right on the water (in fact one third of it is actually built over the water) and is beautiful. A life long learner told me that, no matter what religion you were, you would feel the presence of God in the mosque. I felt disappointed when all I felt was anger. The mosque is built right across from so of the worst poverty I have seen in my life. The giant, beautiful mosque felt more like a monument to mans own hubris than a holy site. Don’t get me wrong, it was beautiful, one the most beautiful buildings I have ever seen with its 56 chandeliers and Moroccan marble floors that stretch out for miles. But while I was there I couldn’t help but wonder if it wouldn’t have made God happier if they had spent the billions of dollars they spent to build that Mosque, on the poor people right there across the street. Wouldn’t that be more of an honor to God?

I guess I don’t know.

On the whole, I loved Morocco. The place is so different from anywhere else I have ever been to; so uniquely its own. The biggest lesson and struggle I have had in Marrakech is coming to terms with what being a woman, and more specifically a western woman, means here. The men either look through you or are grabbing your butt and calling out to you in broken English that is rude at best. I have never ever been able to let a man do something that I can do better. And even more of a struggle is, when you do feel someone grabbing your butt, knowing that turning around and confronting the pervert will likely get you arrested or worse. I have never felt so helpless, and the fact that the feeling is entirely based on my gender just makes me furious.

We are now sailing through the Canary Islands on our way to Ghana. As we said goodbye to Morocco I couldn’t help but feel like I wasn’t saying goodbye, but rather ‘see you soon’ to a new friend. As my first really different travel experience, I’m sure Morocco will always have a special place in my heart.

I’ll do my best to post some pictures up here as soon as I can find some free Internet in Ghana. We’ll arrive in 5 days.

Here’s looking at you kid,
Mal

The Overwhelming Ocean

I will start this entry with this warning; I have never been out to sea for more than an afternoon. Never cruised or sailed beyond the bay in Clearwater, Florida (and even that was only once, a very long time ago).  I was totally unprepared for the crossing of the Atlantic. Unprepared for the constant motion of the sea, unprepared for the seasickness, unprepared for the beauty, unprepared for the insecurity, unprepared for the sheer magnitude of the experience. There are no words to describe how you feel when you look out in any direction and see water, water as far as the eye can see. You feel powerful and weak, but mostly you feel small. The sheer amount of water is almost overwhelming if you think about it too long. Yet, there is something magical and beautiful in feeling that small- like you could disappear into the water and essentially disappear into another world.

Life on the ship is a surreal experience. I wake in the morning to a pitch-black cabin. With no windows or lights on- you can’t see anything. I feel my way down the bunk ladder (I’m on the top bunk to break a fear of heights) and rustle myself over to the shower.  Thirty minutes later, I’m up in the Dining room, wet hair and little makeup, eating breakfast before I have to report to work at the campus store. It’s strange to think how freeing it is to simply be liberated from blow-drying my hair every morning.

Work and classes are the same; you have to fight the rocking waves. The waves rock against the ship, seducing your mind into thinking one thing; it must be naptime. The gentle waves rock you back and forth, making sleeping on the ship easy- I have yet to have an issue falling asleep. The waves do, however, act as a sort of sedative during class. They make you feel like the most import thing you could be doing at any given moment is napping. My professor’s classes are very interesting, and yet I feel like I have eyelids that weigh 70 pounds each.  During the day as you fight sleepiness; you also have to fight the waves walking around. I’ve been told our seas have been uncharacteristically calm, but even still, walking around can be hazardous. Students and faculty (the crew seem to be the only people immune) can be seen at any time, walking around looking slightly drunk. Like, not drunk enough to be wasted, but drunk enough to be feeling warm and fuzzy. We must look like a ship full of drunken people.

Some students are here to be a serious student. You can tell who they are after talking to them a few minutes. Majors, home institutions and course loads can tell you lots about a person. But even the not so serious students who are along for the ride and opportunity to get drunk in every port are nice. The community, all in all, is friendly and accommodating.

On a somewhat house keeping note, you will not see pictures accompanying my post while I am blogging at sea (I will try to post pictures in port). I have super limited internet access and loading pictures is impossible.

I hope you all are doing great. I miss you all more than I can articulate, but know you are all in my heart.

Also- should you feel inspired to email me (which you should!) you may email me at mlharrell@semesteratsea.net
Until Morocco!
Mal

Bon Voyage! (0 Days!)

Well... here we are.

Boarding the MV Explorer in a matter of hours.

It's been a long road here, full of the ups and downs that the passage of time generally holds. It has been a long journey, but it has also been a spectacular one. It's unnerving to know that this first chapter- the waiting , the stress, the endless planning- is coming to a close. The voyage is beginning. Stepping onto the ship is the first of many steps into a new life, a new understanding, and a new Mallory.

But mostly I can't believe it's real.
Seriously, someone should pinch me.

New York City and Montreal have felt unreal- more like a very vivid dream than my actual life. Both cities have been wonderful.

a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBTcPbWIuk1poEB7surrLdRZcG68ba-S27Dr3VaGM41cBPHnzqTMKTvkR_qCUMYVpHTQSIwwTy_B-ziUsH13bTwMcOydArK2EUElLbxagO0wCLmv0SpAcQpXL5Q6mYSa6tXxhMqY64e0RI/s1600/IMG_0563.JPG">A friend of mine once sang "NYC, what is it about you? You're big, you're loud... I'm spinning" in my middle school production of Annie as he spun around in a desk chair during a rehersal. We laughed then, but it turns out that is not far from the truth. New York City was larger than life. The lights, the sounds, the smells, the people, all too much for my imagination to have created- but there they are. The city moved and ebbed and flowed in a way no place I have ever been to in my life has. I loved the city, and saying goodbye to NYC to board my train was more like saying 'see you soon' to an old friend. I feel like my life will lead me there again, and probably soon.

If New York City were to have a cleaner, smaller younger sister it would Montreal. The people move in similar ways, but the french speaking and distinctly Canadian relaxed vibe of the city makes it less stressed- more like a fancy Parisian lady who is running late, but stops to have a drink anyways.

Last night, my last night in Montreal, I hiked to the top of a mountain (I use the word mountain liberally... it is more like a large hill). Up at the top, the view of the city was beautiful, lights as far as the eye could see. It was one of those moments in life when the world seems to stretch out before your feet, just waiting for you to answer its beckoning call, and all you have to do is move your feet and be open to the universe of possibilities.

As I prepare to drag my super large suitcases down the flight of stairs to check out and then into a taxi, I would be remissed if I didnt take a moment to thank the people who have made this voyage a reality for me.

Thank you Mom for pushing me to continue to work hard even when all I wanted to do was sleep in. Your support has meant nothing short of the world to me, and as I head out into the world, know that I take you with me in spirit everywhere I go.

Thank you Mamaw for making this voyage a reality. Your help has assisted in so many ways- I could not be here without you.

Thank you to Matthew and Christine Quiat. Your kind words, guidance, and help has opened my mind to the wiser possibilities of the world (and inspired me to read Lord of the Rings again).

Thank you to my Dad, who has contributated to getting me in ways that have been a huge help.

Thank you to DR. Reed and Dr. Ammon of ASU. You guys have opened my mind to ideas I had never considered before.

Thank you to all my friends- there are simply too many of you wonderful people to list by name. I will miss you tons and can't wait to see you come Christmas. Start listening to Christmas music in October for me ;)

See you soon!

It's a good feeling (28 days!!!)

Holy Smokes (33 Days!!!)

I just want to share this little tid-bit with all you lovely friends, family, voyagers and bored people out there in internetland; I will be on board a ship leaving Canada to circumnavigate the globe in 33 days. I will be boarding a train that will take me to New York City for a day before boarding my train bound for three days of Montreal exploring in 28 days.

Holy smokes.

I'm not even kidding. The major plans are made, the luggage bought, the lists written down and recorded, the vaccinations complete, the malaria, motion sickness and antibiotic medications in hand. The final plans are being made- what snacks do I want to bring with me? What items of clothing do I still need to purchase? What school supplies do I need to get for my classes? I'm beginning to work in the details and that is extremely satisfying. It feels like all the hard work I have been doing since the days of getting my application materials for the study abroad office of ASU in August of last year, and the endless parade of forms that I completed for both ASU and SAS in the snowy winter months since my acceptance into SAS in January are coming to fruition.

I feel like I am standing on the edge of a precipice- that moment of pure adrenaline and excitement you feel just before you jump.

I pulled my suitcases out from the back of my closet, where they had been stashed to avoid the inevitable layer of cat hair that will dawn the black fabric, to eye the space I need to keep in mind. All of my possessions- toiletries, snacks, school supplies, clothing, laptops, EVERYTHING I will need for the next 4 months must fit into these bags. And I have only 28 days to play the even more ludicrous game of tetris to fit my life into 3 bags. I simply cannot believe how much time has passed, and how close this whole thing is to beginning. My first blog entry was at 221 Days, and I began my computer countdown at 385 days. And now, a mere 33 days remain.

Holy smokes.

I just came back from watching the last Harry Potter movie with my mom (her first time and my third). As we were walking out of the theatre my mom said something that truly touched me. She said "You know, your trip with Semester at Sea will be like your own Platform 9 and 3/4. It is going to change your life and who you become". I think she's right.
Just as a sappy side note about Harry Potter- I grew up with the characters- each book coming out so that Harry, Ron and Hermione were roughly the same age as I. They were friends to me when I started a new school or had boy troubles or friend troubles. But mostly I think they have helped me become who I am today- and have built me up to be the person looking for adventure that led me to SAS.

Mischief Managed!

I HATE needles (47 days!!)

My life is beginning to feel like a sprint to the finish line, and the finish line is a marathon of its own. With a mere 47 days until I board the ship that will carry me around the world, and only 42 days until I leave my home for a 2 day train trip and a day in New York City, I am feeling as if I am closing in on my finish line- and that is a weird feeling.

I got my Yellow Fever and Polio vaccines yesterday- something that is both gross, painful and exciting. I hate shots, and needles. And not like people hate onions or country music. I mean I hate needles. They are the stuff that plagues my nightmares and makes me weep. I have, however, been working on my fear of needles (I did get acupuncture this past year that went swimmingly) but it's still something I hate. I still have 2 shots to go (TDAP and Hep A) and the Typhoid pills, but the truly horrible ones are over (and the 2 super expensive ones). I would like to thank my Mamaw for sponsoring the vaccines. It was very nice of her to do so (even if I hated them).

I also got my Visa's and Passport back in the mail earlier this week! I look at those three travel Visa's in my passport and marvel at how expensive they were.

My Mom and I will be setting out on a number of tasks today- the first is to start aggressively making lists of the things I will need to pack for this trip in one of the 3 rolling duffel's I have and to pack for the imminent move into my position as an RA when I return from Semester at Sea. Trying to make sure nothing gets overlooked for a nearly four month trip is exhausting and scary. The second task will be to clean up the house for the arrival of my best friend from Florida for my birthday! I turn 22 on Wednesday, and that happens to be the day that one of my bestest friends, Oriana, arrives to visit from the sunshine state! Which is very exciting. The very last thing that must happen today is catching up my mother in preparation for the VERY LAST Harry Potter Movie!! My mom hasn't really paid any attention to the 6th movie (despite the fact that I have forced her to watch it hundreds of times) and has never even seen Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1! And since the last movie comes out this next week, these two movies must be revued.

Until next time!

Great big beautiful tomorrow!!! (59 Days!!)

I just receive some AMAZING news from my wonderful Student Services Advisor, Kestrell. After an appeal, explaining my personal financial situation, the financial aid director has awarded me an additional $2,500 to my need based grant, bringing the total to $7,500!!!!! This leaves me with a balance of $1,385 left!

Dear readers, I cannot tell you how happy this has made me!! This voyage is real!!!! I am going to go Semester at Sea, it is no longer a leap of faith, it is an actuality! I am really going!

The first thing I say every time one of these wonderful occurrences has happened for me is this "I am going! I'm really going abroad!!" (usually while jumping up and down or hugging my mom to the point that she cannot breathe... or both). Every day this voyage feels more real than the day before. It's a feeling I never think possible, and then, like a miracle, it just gets better. The feeling pulses through my body and elates me even more than I thought it could just the day before.

More than anything, I want to say how wonderful the people who are at Semester at Sea are. They are truly wonderful and I cannot say enough nice things about them.

Just as a kind of side note, the title for today's blog post comes from a Walt Disney World ride called the Carousel of Progress that was a mantra for much of my middle and high school careers. I thought it was fitting for today's outburst of joy! Here's a youtube version of the ride in 2 parts!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A3eJHvO83_s&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pbFUggYn89E&feature=related

PS- Sorry for all the exclamation points in today's post. I just can't help it!

2 months away!! (60 Days!!)

Semester at Sea is a mere two months away. I can't believe that. I cannot understand how time can pass so fast. Was it really only January that I got my acceptance after near death on the uphill slope of stadium drive? Did I really survive the semester? Have I really sent off for my Visa's and begun drafting packing lists?
Is this real life?

Yes.

Unfortunately for those people I live with, work with, or see on a regular basis, Semester at Sea consumes nearly all of my waking thoughts (and sleeping thoughts now that I think about it). I carry around a notepad in which I write down Semester at Sea thoughts; things to pack, forms to fill out, things to write about, or just words like '60 DAYS!!' or 'OMG EXCITED'. I'm afraid of talking to people, for fear of going into an over-excited, never ending explanation of what I am doing with Semester at Sea and how I am preparing and where we are going. It's a problem, but one I think all of the prospective voyagers are experiencing.

The really exciting things about my planning process are how it is quickly coming to an end. I am making final arrangements to get to Montreal! Which is great! I decided to take the train. It will be less than half the cost of flying, and I get to spend a day in New York City with my Big Brother from high school, Andrew! This news is particularly exciting to me since I have never been to New York City, and want to attend Columbia University for Law School someday in the future. Then I get to continue on to Montreal and spend a few days at a hostel and exploring a city that is has a very large french speaking population! Finally, a chance to immerse myself in a language I love!

As for the Diversity Abroad Scholarship, I am sad to report that I did not receive the scholarship, but I did receive a couple other scholarships and I think I have most, if not all of my voyage paid for. I am confident and excited.

Until next time,
Best Wishes,
Mal!

A Leap of Faith (81 Days!!!)

Because of the way the Diversity Abroad Scholarship decision has affected the awarding of my financial aid, tomorrow I take a gigantic leap of faith. Tomorrow I send in the VISA applications. The applications for VISA's into Ghana, India and China are due on June 11th, the day after I will receive my financial aid award. I've had the applications filled out for over a month now, but I have waited to send them in because I wanted to know if I will actually be going on this trip, something that my financial aid award was going to determine. But, because of the somewhat jumbled schedule I, and the the other finalists are finding ourselves in, it is time to take a leap of faith and hope that the universe will provide the appropriate path and means to do this.

The VISA's cost a total of $515, an expense that my wonderful grandmother has offered to pay as a reward for good grades this past semester. Aside from my grandmother and a few other smaller expenses, I am paying for this trip solidly on my own. The trip will be expensive, but I am certain that I can pay for it. This is just the stress talking.

This entry into the blogland I have here for my voyage is in no way meant to be seen as a cry for help or a pity party for one; but instead just a catalogue of my emotions as I move forward. The stress is begining to set in, and set in big style.

So, tomorrow I take a leap of faith.

5 more days until... you know... Friday, June 10th.

Getting the Chills (82 Days!!!)

So... now for a REAL blog post...

Today, as I was driving home from work I decided to play the K'naan song that seems to be iconic for my voyage, called Waving Flag. Sitting in the drivers seat of my car, driving the winding roads back to my house through the Appalachian Mountains, I couldn't help but get chills. For the first time this voyage is starting to feel real.

Not only is the voyage beginning to feel so real I can almost taste and touch it, but thanks to the voyage, the rest of my life is starting to feel like something more than a plan or a thought bubble that I have over my head like a comic strip; it is instead beginning to feel like my life. The K'naan song has a line the says 'When I get older, I will be stronger, they'll call me freedom, just like a waving flag'. Someday I hope to be an international human rights lawyer working to be stronger, working to help the people in the world that get forgotten, who are hungry and neglected, and who are often taken advantage of. The song made me feel like I can do all these things, and that feeling, which is helped by my voyage, is the best thing in whole world.

So, here are some of the details about the Diversity Abroad Scholarship. I received the email saying I was a finalist yesterday (it was a day of much squealing). The email stated that, since I was a finalist, I would not be receiving my financial aid awards yesterday, as was planned (and as everyone who wasn't selected as a finalist did). Instead, I will find out about the Diversity Abroad Scholarship as well as all the other scholarships I applied for (which was every single one) on Friday, June 10th. Now, anyone who doesnt know me wouldn't know the following information: I am borderline obsessed with Josh Groban. I find his voice and his music enthralling and the work his foundation does with Nelson Mandela's 4664 organization, as well as a number of other charities, inspiring. He is a reminder of what talent, compassion and passion can do for the world, and I have tickets for my mom and I to go see our very first Josh Groban concert on Friday, June 10th. Friday, June 10th, the same Friday, Junes 10th as the day I will find out about my scholarships.
I think I may explode with happiness and stress before Friday, June 10th.


It is an honor to be selected as a finalist for the Diversity Abroad Scholarship, an honor that is still setting in. I am a firm believer in Karma and the power of positive thinking. To thank to universe for the wonderful honor I received yesterday I decided to find a way to put that kindness back into the world. When I walked into Wal-Mart yesterday I noticed they had a Red Cross bus outside. In my traditional way of paying-it-forward I decided to donate blood. I can only hope that my actions reflect my belief that we can all make the world a better place.

As a final word before I go listen to some Josh Groban music, I ask that everyone reading this send me some love, light, pleasant thoughts, good karma, prayers, or whatever it is that you do. I thank you all in advance, and you can expect to hear from me soon.

<3

Joy!!! (83 Days!!!!)

I am so happy right now I don't know what to write.

I got this in the good ol'inbox today when I got home from work.

Dear Mallory,

Congratulations! You are one of our Diversity Abroad Scholarship Finalists!



More tomorrow when the joy and stress subsides.

:D

Where is the time going? (92 Days!)

Today's date is May 25th and for any fellow voyagers or for returning readers to my blog, this day a fairly significant day. Today I registered for class on board the MV Explorer and today is also the final deadline to submit application for scholarships and financail aid through ISE. This particular day marks a very big step in my journey toward Semester at Sea.

I woke up early today to register for classes. This was a whole ordeal (just as t usually is on my home campus of Appalachian State). I woke up at seven thirty to make sure I was up and ready to attack the classes I am dying to take before they had the chance to fill up. I do this every semester because classes fill up fast no matter what your major is or where on the map of academia you are studying. But at eight o'clock there was no course registration to take part in. in fact, there wouldnt be for another hour and a half, thanks to the many on the ball students who were eager to register for classes on what is likely to e the best semester of college, period. Yes, the students brought the registration site to its knees, were it begged for mercy before being consumed by students. This wouldn't have been so bad if I hadnt had to be at work at 9:30. Dont worry dear readers, I registered and made it to work on time, but man, it was a close call.

This whole ordeal also posed an unexpected pleasure; after the initial problem at eight, I decided to go check out the Semester at Sea Fall 2011 Voyage facebook page (a page I turn to often to see my fellow voyagers, share excitement, and check for information). I realized I was not alone. For the next hour and fifteen minutes I watched and participated in what I can only describe as pure hilarity; the kind of hilarity that only ensues when a large number of highly stressed out college students get together online. Here are some of my favorites from the morning:



It made me realize how excited I am to spend three months around the world these people.

On a more serious note, today is also the last day to turn in applications for financial aid. This is a major source of stress for me. I have had all my stuff turned in for some time now, but I am sincerely concerned about paying for my voyage. Any well wishes and good karma sent my way would be most appreciated.

The last scholarship I turned in was for the Diversity Abroad Scholarship (that pays HALF of the tuition for the program). I worked really hard on my scholarship video essay submission (which can be found here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3jV9kDOJfrk&feature=channel_video_title ).

All in all, the voyage is getting really close and there are only a few things left to tend to.

Till next time :)
Mal

It's Summer Time! (111 Days!)

Well, it is done. My last semester as a sophomore is complete, grades are posted and I am officially a junior. This past semester has easily been the most challenging semester of college I have yet been crazy enough to undertake. Yesterday while I was on the phone with my mom she patiently listened to me as a stressed out about my final grades. She listened to me say how I would never ever take 19 credit hours again, and the laughed at me. Upon hearing this declaration my mom said "Yes you will". I hate to admit when my mother is right, but I imagine, now that grades have been posted and I didn't fail any classes, she will be right. I came out of this semester bruised, beaten and with significantly less sleep than a person should have, but with 4 A's, and 3 B's. The semester was hard, but ultimately worth it, like all things that are difficult.

I am both relieved and saddened by the close of this year. It has been one of the best years. I took fun classes, learned a ton, met awesome people and had a great time. I have to admit that I will miss my lovely roommate, Rebecca. I wont know what to do with myself without her zaney antics (though my dishes will be cleaner). I hope I'm as lucky with roommate assignments on semester at Sea as I was this past year with Rebecca.

In other, somewhat more stressful and relevant news, today is the day that the Presidential Scholarships are announced. If everyone could do me a favor and send me some helpful vibes and nice, happy thoughts my way, I could use them. For real.

So, it's now summer time, which means sun, sleeping in, and summer music. Summer also means the last of the major Semester at Sea preparations are beginning. VISA applications should be sent out within the next week or so, we register for classes May 25th, and Financial Aid will be announced and posted on June 3rd. It's crazy to think how much closer I am to Semester at Sea and how quickly the summer will fly by.
Since I will have more time now for sleeping and cultivating my sanity, you all can expect more frequent blog posts. Semester at Sea is just around the corner and I cant wait to make it into this last home stretch.

Until next time!

The Spirit of Exploration (130 Days!!)

Today is the 41st anniversary of the landing of the Apollo 13 mission. As anyone who knows me can tell you, I am a huge space nerd, and specifically am a NASA fangirl. The picture on this blog is of me at the Kennedy Space Center a few summers ago. I love NASA. I love the spirit of exploration and excitement that encompasses the projects NASA has put forward in the past, and has done within my life time. Having lived in Florida for much of my young life, I know the feeling of staring up wide eyed at the sky as I watch a tiny spec of light disappear into the sky. It is a feeling that I adore, and as the NASA program comes to a close, I am truly saddened. I think that we have a lot to learn from NASA, and specifically the Apollo 13 mission. The Apollo 13 mission has been described as a "successful failure". Though the ultimate mission of landing on the surface of the moon was not reached, I feel like we, as a fellowship of humanity, learned something even more valuable. The value of trying. That attempt, to launch humans into space, and then to fail is intensely brave. The fact that we brought back those men, alive, after all of the hardships that were faced, shows the true ingenuity of the human spirit. And ever more than that, is the fact that even after failure, we went back, and tried again.

I feel very similarly about my upcoming voyage. I am filled with the spirit of exploration, the need to leave my bubble and explore, the same pull that has us going to space. I am sure that at times while I am abroad I will have problems. I will fall short of the perfection I demand of myself, and I have issues. But the important thing, the thing that I have learned from the Apollo 13 mission and NASA in general, is that when I fall down, that I must get back up and try again. Instead of crawling back into my comfort zone, I will get back up and try again.

Speaking of attempts and getting back up, I sent off an very important scholarship application a few days ago and I would really appreciate some good Karma and lucky thought waves coming my way. I'll know on May 6th if I have been awarded the scholarship, so any pleasant thoughts would be awesome. Thanks in advance :)

In other news, I am a mere 2 weeks away from the pure bliss that will be summer vacation! The next 2 weeks will be hard, I have homework stacked up to my eyeballs and I may go crazy under the incredibly heavy workload that I now find myself under. But summer is so close, I can taste it!!

The next steps of my journey are going to be the VISA applications (which I printed off and am now looking at with an expression akin to those found on shocked LOL cats faces). They want to know everything about me and the form are super long and a bit pricey. I'll keep you all posted on the continued progress of the never ending paperwork that is my journey to Semester at Sea.

So... back to the never ending parade of homework that will be my next two weeks.
Until next time!

News, news, news!! (168 Days!)

Do you ever sit back and think 'there is no way my life could get more busy or more wonderful?'

I thought that to myself shortly after writing my last blog entry. The weather has been sunnier and spring feels like it is just hiding around the corner, I was feeling excited (albeit a bit stressed) about everything in my life, and I was in a place where I was truly happy.

Jack Johnson has this line in one of his songs that says "You've got to be careful when you've got good love, because the angels will just keep on multiplying". I think the same is true for happiness. When you are happy with life and with yourself, the happiness will just keep on multiplying. And so I find myself half way over with spring break, happier and busier than ever.

Semester at Sea has added two new ports to my itinerary, and Morocco has thus far remained on the itinerary as well. The two new ports are Port Louis, Mauritius and Havana, Cuba! After the State of the Union a while back, in which President Obama included the idea of healing relations with Cuba, Semester at Sea said they were going to try to make a visit happen for our voyage and voyages in the future. It may not be 100% official yet, but it is up on the website, which is solid enough for me to begin getting excited! I believe that a dialogue between the US and Cuba will be a good thing for the future of our part of the world. It is time we begin to heal the wounds that were left by the Cold War.
As for the other port, I know nothing about this place (indeed, I had never heard the name until I saw it on the website for my itinerary). I'm looking forward to learning about the new places I am set to travel to (really, I am looking forward to learning. Period.)

I am also excited to announce that the Visa and Vaccination information went up as well! Much of my stressing has been alleviated! I will only need a total of 4 Visa's (Ghana, India, Vietnam and China) for an estimated total of $357! And only a Yellow Fever vaccination and a prescription for malaria medication! Dear readers, you cannot see my happy dance, but you better bet your bottom dollar that I am happy-dancing my way around the room.

This trip is continuing to feel real and possible and in that feeling lies the true magic of this whole thing.

Insanity and playing the waiting game (186 Days!!)

I should be studying for my Chinese Medicine mid-term that takes place this Tuesday (holy crap, mid-terms already?) but I'm taking a break. Study breaks are important. They are important because they keep your brain from working so hard that it somehow liquefies itself and begins to ooze out of your ears. Yes, this is bad, and I am a mere term or two away from brain liquefaction, so I am taking a break to allow it to re-congeal into the brain matter I need to retain the bazillion different acu-points I need to have crammed in head by Tuesday.

So there.

In the past week I have looked at airfare to Canada and sent in my last readily completable scholarship application. It's not much, but it is certainly an important step. It may not have been during the month of January (as the more discerning readers may remember was my goal) but my taxes and FAFSA took a little longer than expected.

So, now that all that is done, what must I do, you ask?
Wait.
I hate waiting, but for now, I must. I am waiting on Semester at Sea. I am waiting for them to announce what Visa's I will need to acquire and what vaccinations I will need to get before I leave, information that probably wont be posted for another month. I am also waiting on the financial aid disbursement notifications so that I know how much more money I will need to raise in order to sail in August, information I wont know until June 3rd.
So, I wait.

Waiting sucks. It makes me feel like there is something I should be doing. Which, short of booking flights and hotels, there isn't.


I guess waiting is good though, since I need extra time to remain sane and do the work that I have to do for my classes this semester *cough* Chinese medicine and french *cough*

Until next time, I remain insanely yours.

The Infamous Purse Library (197 days!!)

Anyone who has ever hung out with me for any extended period of time knows exactly what my title to this entry means. I am required to carry around a very large purse. Not because I carry around makeup (I don't) or hair products (the hair tie on my wrist is about it), but because I have a problem. I have a book problem. More than once my mother has picked up my purse to hand to me and remarked "what do you have in there? A dead body?"

I have a book problem. When I move into my dorm every year I spend several afternoons staring at my bookshelves in my room, trying to pick the books that will travel with me to my new dorm. This process takes days, maybe even weeks (it should be noted that my mother now only lives a mere 30 minutes away, but the decision still takes forever). I spend more money on new books than I do on food or clothes and I treat my books the way some people treat their children. They are to be loved, protected and regularly used (I am a big fan of rereading a book, just because I loved it the first hundred times I read it). At any one time I am usually reading 3-5 books (a number which will easily double during the school semesters due to the massive amounts of readings my professors assign to me). And at any given moment it is impossible to predict which one of those 3-5 books I am in the process of reading will strike my fancy. My answer to this problem has been simple; just carry them all around.

So, one night while I was talking to my mom about my upcoming voyage with Semester at Sea she asked me "how will you handle being away from your books?"

I don't think she intended to send me spiraling into a frenzied combination of anxiety and depression, but that is what happened. I'm sure that I would miss my books more than I would miss any of my other of my worldly possessions. They are almost an extension of myself. How could I see the world without the books that have been my gateway into that world?

My room mate, Rebecca, and I have a mutual love for books (though she is, perhaps, less obsessive than I) and when she came back after Christmas vacation with a brand new Kindle in hand, I immediately mocked her electronic book impersonator. I have steadfastly denounce ereaders since they have become mainstream. Nothing, I repeat, nothing feels like holding a book between your hands, feeling the crisp paper under you fingertips. Ereaders don't have the smell that books have (glossy paged books and old library books have different smells than a new paperback. They are all different and all wonderful).

But the more I saw her with her Kindle, the more I began to wane in my dislike. The more I got to know her Kindle and what books were available to it, I started to fall for her Kindle.


So, dear readers, I now own a Kindle, so I can take all my favorite books around the world with me. This really was the only reason I broke down and bought it. I love it. I love that I can instantly buy books from my Kindle, I love the instant whisper delivery of the New York Times every morning, I love the fact that it weighs next to nothing. But mostly, I love that I can now carry 30 or 40 books in my purse without getting an arm workout.

Don't get me wrong, I will still buy books by the truck load, but for something like Semester at Sea, my new Kindle will really be a comfort and a friend in a world that will be changing around me daily. In this one way it will be nice to have a piece of home with me all around the world; my bookshelves.

(Pictured: Dot Bear, Chicki, and Sock Monkey settled in for a nice night of Kindle Reading on my bed)

The world is changing (200 Days!!)

Guess what came in the mail!?


If you guessed my passport, then you would be correct! Yes! My passport got here today! The first small increment of time I set for myself has finally come to end. I feel like I should celebrate in some way. In all honesty, I have been more than a little impatient for it to arrive. I have compulsively been logging in to my blog, desperately wanting something, anything, to write about, but I only end up looking at the pictures of the Economy rooms and finding my own misspellings and typos. But today, I got my passport! It is the first step on a long road to getting ready for SAS. I really look forward to filling up the pages of the passport with the future adventures I will have.

With my passport the helpful folks at the passport place sent me a little leaflet that says 'With your U.S. passport the world is yours!' and, as corny as that little phrase is, I am really beginning feel that way, both about my education and, naturally, my new passport. I'm really beginning to feel like I am standing on the edge of becoming the person that I want to be and that Semester at Sea is going to be the event that pushes me into who I want to be for the rest of my life.

Wow. This got to be a mushy, public service announce-y entry. Oh well.

In other news, I have been watching the events in Egypt unfold with rapt attention. I am in awe of the courage of the Egyptian people. I have always loved Egypt. I was taken at a very young age to the Denver Museum of Natural History to see a King Tut exhibit, and as I gazed at the mummies and golden tombs I was hooked by the terror and mystery. I have always been fascinated by the histories of ancient Egypt, and the sheer volume of their history. And now, as they throw off the shackles of an oppressive regime, I get to watch and read along. The fact that something of this magnitude is happening in a country that I have adored since my childhood in my lifetime, I feel as though this is another defining moment in my young adult life (if not for the entire world).

It has become clear to me, now more than ever, we need to be citizens not just of our home countries, but of the world. Watching what is happening in Egypt on television and reading about it in the news has really re enforced my view that global education is going to make a difference in the world.

The world is changing, and I intend to help be the cause for that change. In my own small way, I am standing for the people of Egypt. I'm rooting for you, Egyptians. Thank you for being an inspiration in a world that needs your voice.

Being Productive! (221 Days!)

Time for me seems to be moving at the pace of a lame turtle while simultaneously moving as quickly as a lightening strike. In the past few days I have done so much, and yet August 26th seems like a lifetime away. How in the world is this possible? How can I have too much time while seemingly having too little time!? Am I about to rip a hole in the fabric of time (or does it just seems that way?)

So, I have decided to measure time in small pieces for now. I filed my passport paperwork yesterday, and the man said that I should have it in around a month or tow. So, My first real tiny chunk of time has been sent by the passport office (and I imagine travel Visa's will follow that). getting my passport application filed really makes me feel as though this is real (a feeling that gets more real every day and with every new task I do). I am the first member of my family to get a passport or leave the country. It's kind of a big deal :)

In a somewhat related story, here is a letter I drafted to the snow storm that blew through town Wednesday. Enjoy!

Dear Snow Storm,
Thank you for picking this particular time to slow down the clock. I know I usually complain about your presence in my life, and I know I usually use some pretty colorful language when I do so, but this past Wednesday you got it right! So thank you! Because of you I kicked myself into scholarship mode, because of you I am half way through the ISE scholarship applications and it is because of you that I have mailed most of them. Because of your timing I sat down at my desk, printed form after form, wrote essays, printed resumes and got to work.

Thank you for making me get to work. It is really helping me fell like this crazy journey, that SAS, is really going to happen for me. That I can get myself there.

Thank you so much, and I will try to be more understanding about you trapping my car in the future (but really, don't hold your breath).

Best wishes, Mal

I also got my cabin class assignment in the last few days, which was exciting and frightening all in one. It was exciting having something concrete to pin my excitement to, and frightening because of these:


Yes, these are the photos of possible rooms in my cabin category sent to me By SAS. I am in the lowest possible class for cabins. Your cabin determines your overall price, so I have opted for the cheapest category of cabins; Economy class. These pictures came in an email for SAS, informing me exactly what my category/ class is, with the warning "Flexibility is extremely important when selecting this category." Naturally I accepted right away, since I would sleep in a trash can of it would shave a few thousand off the tuition price, but anyone who knows me at all can see why I am a wee bit nervous about rooms of this nature.

1) I am a painfully introverted introvert. I need time alone to reflect and recharge or I become depressed/upset/moody/generally unhappy. Clearly with a room like that, finding alone time in the cabin will more than likely not be an option.

2) I am a neat freak. If I get paired with a messy person in that close of quarters, I may explode. I need order in my life, and that order is reflected in the tidiness of my room.

3) I have a new anxiety about where I will put my luggage once all my stuff is on the ship.

All that being said, my excitement level continues to grow.

Deposit down!! (225 Days)

It is official! What a nice word that is in this context (it's not so nice when its an official traffic ticket or official bill from my university). I am now $500 worth committed to my Semester at Sea voyage for Fall 2011! The word excited doesn't begin to cover how I feel now that it is that much more certain that I will be on the voyage of a lifetime.

In my excitement I went through the website and printed off every scholarship/ work study application I am eligible for and will have every one I can done by the end of this month (while my classes are relatively slow). In addition to this, I will be taking my passport application down to the office this weekend (Monday at the latest). For now, I have the time to do so, so lets get it all done.

In other news, today was my first real day of classes, and wow. Firstly, Ratemyprofessor.com is amazing. I love it. All my professors this semester are great, which is the only way I could survive a semester of 19 credits. If it wasn't for the ability to ensure great professors, college would be like an even high stakes gamble, like Vegas. But instead of money, you wager your sanity and well being. Secondly, I am not sure, between schoolwork and getting all my SAS stuff in order and work, when I will ever sleep. I'm just saying, this semester is going to be amazing and exhausting.

Hey, guess what?
I AM OFFICIALLY GOING ON FALL 2011 SEMESTER AT SEA!!!
Its pretty amazing, isnt it?

I will be getting my official cabin assignment in a few days, and hopefully my pre-departure paperwork shortly after. Pinch me! Is this really happening?

Let the madness begin!!