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