Ganbei to Shanghai!

        I met up with the ship in Shanghai via an overnight sleeper train from Beijing. Another bed of rocks if you ask me. I mind as well have been sleeping on ancient stone like the night before. It was still a cool experience. It was four people to a private cabin with two bunks. It was clean. There was a built-in t.v. at the foot of every bed. I really shouldn’t complain. When we got to Shanghai, we were met by a China Guide bus that brought us to our ship. It literally took a full hour for us all to get our bags searched, have our passports checked, and swipe into the ship. Then another two hours for them to make copies of our passports for immigration. I did not get off the ship until 2pm that day. However as fate would have it, as I was getting ready to head off into Shanghai on my own, I ran into my roommate and another friend. My roommate happens to speak fluent Chinese. Definitely someone to hang around when in China. She took care of communicating with taxi drivers and getting directions. She also knew of a great and famous dumpling restaurant for dinner AND a rooftop bar with one of the best views of the city. I would say the day was a success.
        My second and final day I did go off on my own. I’ve really become a fan of independent travel. I’ve found large groups can often be a hindrance. This solo day ended up being exactly what I had hoped for when I tried the solo thing in Singapore for the first time. I got off the ship with a plan and a map of Shanghai to make that plan possible. I started with breakfast and free wifi at a coffee shop on the Bund, which is a long waterfront stretch with some beautiful old, European architecture. Then I walked down the major shopping street of Nanjing Rd, where according to my map I would find the Shanghai Art Museum at the other end. About 10 minutes from the museum I was stopped by a group of three Chinese people about the same age as me. They were really excited to practice their English. We talked for a while and they invited me to the tea ceremony they were heading to. I absolutely love spontaneous decisions and this was definitely one of them. The Shanghai Art Museum could wait. We went to this tiny tea shop where we were led into a tiny room set for four tea tasters. Our tea master (?) didn’t speak any English so my new friends had to translate everything. I learned about the different teas and how some help digestion, some reduce wrinkles, some are great for your heart. I learned the traditional way to drink the tea and hold the tea cup. You grasp the cup with your thumb, pointer, and middle finger and the other two fingers stay tucked if you’re a girl and point out if you’re a boy. Before you begin the tea tasting you are supposed to swirl the tea three times, then smell it, then finish the cup in three sips, then breathe in to fully experience the flavor. I learned how to toast in Chinese (ganbei = cheers). I tasted about 6 different teas and ended up buying two to bring home. I don’t even like tea but this stuff was really good. My new friends walked me to the Shanghai Art Museum and we said our goodbyes after we exchanged email addresses. What a great first couple hours of the day!
        As I was wandering around the exhibits of the art museum, I was approached yet again by a local. His name was Johnson and we ended up talking and walking through the rest of the museum together. He works in Shanghai and was in the area of the museum for a few meetings so he’d thought he would take a look now that admission is free. He was such great company. The funniest part was when we got to this exhibit titled “Encounter.” He points to the name and says, “Like us!” Then we both proceed to read the description (I took a picture of it so here is the exact wording): “There are many encounters in life, invisible or visible. But only love could last and continue such encounter…” It was so cute. He turned soooo red. After we had walked around the Encounter exhibit and we were passing by the description again, he insisted that we get a picture together in front of it.
        I almost couldn’t believe how lucky I was to keep meeting so many great people. This is exactly what I want to happen when I go off on my own in these places. I never intend to actually spend the day all by myself. If I was in a large group of people, this never would have happened. You are much more approachable when you’re on your own. My roommate who inspired the first solo expedition in Singapore was so proud of me. These are the experiences that happen to her every time. I have three days in Taiwan next. I’m planning on spending one of them on my own. I hope it can stack up to this amazing day.

Beijing.

       I flew from Hong Kong to Beijing and was greeted by our tour guide, Tommy, waving his blue China Guide flag. Brace yourself. What I am about to share with you is one of the most amazing experiences of the trip and possibly of my life. Every Fall and Spring semester of SAS, students sign up for the China Guide tour. It’s an extremely popular independent tour, not affiliated with SAS. The tour I signed up for along with about 150 other students involved a day in Beijing seeing the sights of Tiananman Square and the Forbidden city, shopping at the silk and pearl markets, sitting down to a traditional peking duck lunch (sooo delicious!), watching an insane acrobat show of unbelievable contortions, motorcycle cages and hoop diving aaaannnnndddd drumroll please……… SLEEPING ON THE FREAKING GREAT WALL OF CHINA!!! Yep I did it and it was so utterly unreal. There I was in subzero degree Celsius temperatures layered up in the North Face jacket I bought in Vietnam, a panda bear hat, some gloves I somehow managed to bargain down to $3 and zipped into a sleeping bag staring up at the Big Dipper and the frequent shooting stars. I actually couldn’t believe I was doing what I was doing. I’ve never been colder in my life and my exposed face was frozen into a permanent expression by morning but it was worth every last numb toe and finger. We woke up bright and early to the sun rising over the wall. We had just spent the night on the Great Wall but we hadn’t gotten to see the beast until right then. It stretched for miles in both directions, up and over hills, towers cresting every peak. It was insane. We had a two and half hour hike ahead of us. Let me tell you it was quite the hike. Some of those inclines were near vertical and the stones to get up them were crumbling and loose. The downhill stretches were definitely the most frightening.
        Along the way, I met a woman named Shushi from Mongolia. Of course she was there to try and sell us the typical touristy post-cards and t-shirts. I usually don’t pay much mind to the hockers but she was so sweet and genuine. I feel badly even calling her a hocker. A two-hour hike to the Great Wall from her small village in Mongolia, then hours of hiking on the treacherous Great Wall EVERY SINGLE DAY to fund her two children’s education. My heart melted and I let her show me her postcards, t-shirts and hand-painted fans and then even pinky-promised her that when we made it to our buses, I would spend 50 Yuen on something. Her English was broken and conversation was a little challenging but I hiked alongside her for a little over an hour and a half. She told me as much as she could about her children and her small village, some facts about the wall, how many steps it was to the next tower, where the best views are. She was great company and I had no problem following through on my promise. I bought the fold-up hand-painted fan she had fanned me with at one point on the hike when the last 150-step incline had practically did me in. I wish there was a way to keep in touch with her but she doesn’t have phone or internet access.
        It was an amazing experience and honestly the best one thus far on the trip. I still can’t believe it was real. Beijing was good to me.

Not Long in Hong Kong

        First of our four stops in China was Hong Kong. We pulled up to the harbour and because none of us have done enough shopping already, we had to walk through a mall to touch Hong Kong street. I was a little under the weather for this port, battling one of the worst colds of my life. The weather was rather wet and gray the entire time we were in Hong Kong. I’m not sure if it’s always like that or if we just caught it at a bad time. The first day we took the Ngong Ping glass-bottomed cable car up to the top of a mountain to see the big Buddha statue. And then later that evening we went up to another high-altitude vantage point called the Peak, where you can supposedly watch the nightly Hong Kong light show. Unfortunately we didn’t get to see the city lights dance from building to building due to Earth Hour but the view was pretty spectacular. We met a 23-year old Israeli backpacker named Bar at the foot of the Peak. We ended up doing the Peak with him and eating dinner together at a Mexican restaurant called Tequila Jacks where he told us all about his time serving in the Israeli army as well as his travels through New Zealand not too long ago. It’s always fun when you run into other travelers. They are usually more experienced than us SAS’ers at traveling the world and have a lot of amazing stories to share. Bar sold me on New Zealand. I think that will be my next travel spot.
        The second day I’m a little embarrassed and ashamed about. I went to Disneyland. I’m traveling to exotic places like Hong Kong and I choose to visit something that we have in America. Can you tell I have some regrets? I just wasn’t strong enough to resist the lure of Mickey Mouse and was naïve enough to believe a day in Disney, with all the sentimental family moments and memories I have of the place, would make me feel at home and strangely connected to the ones I love. Despite the terrible rainy weather and it already being noon by the time I left for the park, I bought a ticket hopped on the special Disneyland Hong Kong metro line (This train was pretty cool looking. The windows were Mickey Mouse shaped as well as the hoops you grab onto when there are no seats). When I arrived at the park all of my old childhood excitement came rushing back. I’m going to Disneyland! After about a half hour in the park, I knew I had made a mistake. Instead of serving as a remedy for homesickness, it only made me feel more disconnected from my family. The park wasn’t even that spectacular. It’s only five years old so it’s still a work in progress. I rode Space Mountain about 6 or 7 times. It was the only roller coaster in the whole park and saw a few shows. The park was literally a miniature Magic Kingdom. So Disneyland was a major misjudgement on my part. Live and learn I guess.
         The ship pulled away that evening without me on it. I had a flight the next morning from Hong Kong to Beijing so I had to stick around for the night. A few of my friends had gone hotel hunting that day. They found a reasonably priced hotel over in the Soho District. The only problem was they couldn’t book me the room and I wasn’t expecting to arrive at the hotel around 6pm. When I did arrive, I found out that it was fully booked for the night. I had a mini panic attack until my friend whom I was planning on rooming with found a hotel with vacancy a few blocks over. It was such a sweet hotel too, very European, modern, and compact. Everything worked out wonderfully. I caught the metro to the airport in the morning and was on a flight to Beijing shortly thereafter.
         Hong Kong was exciting but I wasn’t blown away by it like I have been at the other ports. I blame it on the lack of time. We only had two days. Not nearly enough time to really dive in and see what Hong Kong is all about. Maybe I’ll be back one day and can do it right. 

Back in 'Nam...

        Breaking news: Vietnam just soared to the top of my list of favorite places. It was completely unexpected. I’ll be honest. Looking at the itinerary when I signed up for SAS, I was pretty indifferent about Vietnam. I had no idea how I would spend my time. Plain and simple, I just didn’t know anything about Vietnam beyond its war history.
        I was lucky enough to have a local show me around Ho Chi Minh City on our first day in Vietnam. She was the niece of someone my mom works with. Her name is Halong and she was a godsend. Ho Chi Minh is a big city. Think NYC but replace the cars with millions of motorcycles that don’t obey traffic laws. One of the scariest/most exciting things to do is cross those streets with cars, motorcycles, and busses showing no signs of slowing down despite the fact that you are standing right in their path. As long as you maintain the same pace and have no “deer in the headlights” moments, traffic flow parts around you like the Red Sea. The second scariest/most exciting thing to do is to ride one of the motorcycles. For a dollar or two the moto will take you wherever you need to go. They give you a helmet, you hop on the back and hug the driver as you dangerously weave through the mass of other weaving motorcycles at high speed and more times than not blow through red lights or ditch the road for the sidewalk.
        It’s a crazy, lively place but it all ceases at 1am. There’s a curfew in Vietnam. Most bars and restaurants are shut down by 12 (except a few which I never figured out why).  But the night hours leading up to 12 am are some of the best. One night, I literally went barhopping from rooftop to rooftop of skyscraper hotels. The city has a great bar/club scene and the locals just love to be out. On our day with Halong, she took us to a night market. Along the way we passed a city green or park of some sort. There was a pavilion at the center where couples were learning to dance to traditional Vietnamese music. There were people lining the sidewalks selling exotic fruits, DVD’s, clothing, handbags, and other goods. Young couples parked it along the perimeter of the park, perched on their motorcycles, cuddling and observing the madness around them. According to one of our tour guides later in the week, if a guy doesn’t have a motorcycle, he doesn’t have a girlfriend. It’s imperative to the relationship for the sole reason of these night outings to the center of town.
        One of the best parts about having a local as your guide was having the chance to try real authentic Vietnamese food at non-touristy restaurants. For lunch we had Pho, some egg soup and apricot milkshakes, during which I attempted to eat my entire bowl of Pho with chopsticks. It took a while. For dinner we had Vietnamese pancakes full of mushrooms, shrimp, sprouts and other things I always just assumed I didn’t like. Our side dish was an order of snails. Despite every single thing Halong ordered being things I didn’t like, I ended up enjoying all of it, the only exception being the snails. I don’t think I will ever be eating those again. She also brought us to the coffee shop she works at, Highland’s, for a famous, iced Vietnamese traditional coffee. Best thing I’ve ever tasted. It’s so strong that they don’t give you a lot in a cup. The whole coffee-drinking experience is sadly over in a few sips.
Halong also took us to several marketplaces where I bought all of the seasons of How I Met Your Mother for $9 and a North Face jacket for $30. The prices were insanely cheap at least after you bargained them down. Speaking of insanely cheap, Vietnam is THE place for a spa day. You could just walk into any of the 5 star hotels that occur every other storefront, locate their spa and book a facial, mani/pedi, and massage for a grand total of probably around $30. You could do that and benefit from both the quality of the spa and the inexpensive services IF you are smart enough to book ahead of time. I wasn’t. Smart me thought I could just walk into the spa at my hotel at Nha Trang on the last morning we were there to get a massage, mani and pedi. Nope fully booked. Duh. I was NOT leaving Vietnam without a cheap massage. My first professional massage in my life. Eyeing me from across the street was a flashing sign saying simply “Massage.” Okay that’ll do it. My friend, being just as desperate as I, walked in, checked prices, saw $6 for a Swedish full body massage, and within 5 minutes we were face down on tables. It was definitely no hotel spa. No soothing music. The pillow I was supposed to lay my face down on looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in a while. I could hear everything going on in the lobby throughout the massage. But it was $6. What did I expect? I walked away covered in oil and my next shower was not going to be until much later that night when we were back at the ship in Ho Chi Minh City. Next time I visit Vietnam I will definitely plan ahead and make a reservation. I got my mani/pedi at another small place down the street from “Massage.” I was their only customer at the time and neither of the girls working there spoke any English. I pointed to my hands and my feet and they got the idea. It was kind of awkward. I had one girl painting my toenails and one painting my fingernails. Because neither of us could communicate with each other, we would just smile and then they would talk in rapid Vietnamese, giggle and talk some more. It sure seemed like they were talking about me, probably about the horrendous shape of my feet and fingernails. And there I am smiling at them like a fool.
Yeah so Nha Trang. Confused when I mentioned that above? Nha Trang is the beach town I visited for the middle three days of our time in Vietnam. I had signed up for the trip before I boarded the ship because I had no idea how to spend five days in Vietnam. I am soooo glad I did because Nha Trang was amazing. It was a 45-minute flight away and so very different from the bustling city of Ho Chi Minh. It was the perfect place to just chill out, soak up some sun, shop and eat of course and visit a few Buddhist temples and big fat and happy Buddha statues. It’s basically a beach town but there are gorgeous mountains along the coast. When our flight landed at around 6am, the sun was just rising and the drive from the airport to our hotel was unreal. It was so beautiful it could have been fake. I was probably just dreaming it. The mountains were just a silhouette stretching out into the ocean that was speckled with the fishing boats that were just returning from a hopefully successful night of fishing. The rising sun made the whole scene sort of take on this yellowish-gold hue. The fog hadn’t yet burned off over the water so everything was slightly hidden, but still visible, behind a golden haze. It was breathtaking.
I ate more seafood than I knew was possible in those three days. Every lunch and dinner we were presented with plates of spring rolls, calamari, mussels, fish, etc. It was all surprisingly delicious. This seafood-hater became a seafood-lover by the end of the trip. I am a picky eater no more. That is one thing I will forever be thankful to Semester at Sea for; expanding my tastebuds.
All in all, after spending some time in Ho Chi Minh City and some time in Nha Trang combined with the stories I heard of other people’s travels to Halong Bay and Hanoi, I am committed to coming back. Every city is so different from the next. The people are so friendly. It is one of the most affordable places on earth. There is delicious food. Tons of things to do. I’ll be back, I promise.

s1ngapore

Singapore was more than just another port in the itinerary. I’ve visited seven countries already. Every port brought an evolution of the lessons I was learning about myself and the world.  Our stop in Singapore happened to occur at the perfect moment for me to try something new, something I felt I was ready for based on my travel experience so far. It was an opportunity to challenge myself and take what I’d learned on this SAS voyage and apply it to a full day in Singapore… completely on my own. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to spend time with the amazing friends I’ve met over this journey. I actually would have preferred to do that. It was the safe thing to do, the familiar thing to do. I felt the need to sacrifice a day with friends for a day of personal growth. One day, that’s it. I can spend the rest of the ports surrounded by friends but I really wanted to test myself here in Singapore. It was probably one of the safest places we’d be visiting so it wasn’t insane to go out on my own.
        I’m happy to say I followed through with my plans of independent travel through Singapore and I did walk away with some new lessons learned. For one, I really need to ask for help when I need it. I often try so hard to figure things out on my own that I end up wasting a LOT of time. This lesson was best learned at the very start of the day when I was trying to purchase my EZ Transit card for the MRT, which is the metro system of Singapore. The total of 30 minutes I spent trying to put enough fare on the card to get me to Chinatown could have been sized down to 5 if I had just went up to the service desk and asked for help. I spent a lot of the day making use of the MRT, getting myself from Chinatown to Little India to the Bugis district to Raffles Place to the City Hall area. It was the simplest, most cost effective way to get around town and it was insanely clean. The entire city was in fact. So well manicured. It makes sense when the government is watching everything that you do. There’s a fine for littering, chewing gum, bringing this really smelly fruit called durian onto the MRT, bringing any type of food or drink onto the MRT, etc. It’s a very structured place but if it weren’t I may not have felt as comfortable going off on my own.
        The major things to do in Singapore are shop, eat, and visit the ethnic districts like Chinatown, Little India and the Malay area. I did it all. Without trying to, I ended up at three different shopping malls. Every MRT stop would drop you off at a mall. It was pretty much unavoidable. I began the day in Chinatown where I tried Kaya Buttered Toast, per my roommate’s instructions. Singapore is known for their kaya jam. It’s basically an egg and coconut concoction that tastes absolutely delicious on toast. I bought a jar to bring home.
        Next up was Little India. It was so strange being in a new country, yet seeing the same clothing and trinkets and smelling the same spicy food I had just left in India. There was one notable difference: I could stroll the shops without being hassled to purchase something by the employees.
        After Little India, I visited Bugis street which is a really cool marketplace sort of indoors but bursting with little shops selling really cheap goods from bags to clothes to $5 watches in bright neon colors and big shapes to juices in every fruit you can imagine. It was crazy how crowded it was!
        Then I visited Raffles Place to try and hunt down a phone card. I didn’t mention this before but I only intended to spend ¾ of the day on my own, then meet up with my friends for dinner and a drink later. The plan was to buy a phone card, call their cell phone and meet up. Finding a phone card was not as simple as I thought it would be. I finally tracked one down at a 7-Eleven. Then finding a payphone was another issue. I asked about 10 different people, consulted the mall map and spent about an hour going up and down the levels of the mall until I finally found one. Then the call wouldn’t connect. This failure along with my inability to connect to free wifi at three different cafes left me with the conclusion that maybe I’m not supposed to connect with anyone, rather I should continue doing things on my own.
        Glad I did because after the phone/computer debacle, I really started to enjoy myself. The rain that had been falling on and off throughout the afternoon had finally cleared and it appeared to be the perfect time to go visit the City Hall area. It was so peaceful wandering the streets just outside the heart of the city. The architecture of the buildings was so interesting. Every building had a life of its own. For the first time all day, I broke out my camera and snapped a ton of pictures. The sun was setting, there was a cricket team hitting some balls in the batting cage, the harbourfront was just off to my left and I had a gorgeous view of the Singapore skyline. A Japanese tourist offered to take my picture in front of it. It was the only picture with me in it that I have for the day.
        It was a wonderful day in Singapore that only got better as it progressed. I know that I will definitely try independent travel again but it probably won’t be on this Semester at Sea trip.

India Marks Halfway

They say India is one of the most life-changing ports on our itinerary. This is the port that is supposed to nudge you in one of two directions: back deep, deep into your shell where everything is safe and familiar or willingly thrust you another few steps outside of your ever-expanding comfort zone. I definitely felt the tug in both directions during my six days in India. Homesickness finally struck. There was a moment where I was sitting on the bus traveling from Jaipur to Delhi, North Indian countryside and farmland whizzing by outside the window and I suddenly started tearing up. It was unstoppable. It was like my rush of a day visiting various forts and palaces had worn me down and tired me out so much that the feelings I’ve been subconsciously suppressing just rose to the surface. I really missed home. For the first time on this journey, I had shed tears for my life at home. I craved the familiarity, the interactions with friends and family, the routine. I thought I was doing so well too. I figured the reason why I was handling such a huge trip, so far away from home so well was because I had gotten over tear-worthy homesickness after my freshman year of college. Apparently not. Apparently I’m not as independent and grown-up as I thought I was. I am still dependent upon that familiarity and love from those I love in order to feel comfort. It’s tough being so disconnected. The hardest thing is experiencing stuff I’ve previously only dreamed about and wishing upon wishing that my family could be right there by my side experiencing it with me. I can only hope that they get the chance to see the world like I am.
Anyway, what all of this sentimental, mushy-gushy stuff led me to was the realization that not only is it okay to cry because I haven’t seen or talked to my family in over two months, but that I’m also not where I want to be in my own personal growth on this voyage. I have high expectations for what this kind of trip around the world can do to a person. I’m seeing it firsthand both in myself and in my classmates. What my tear session helped me to realize was how often I sort of rely too heavily on others taking care of me. It leaves me with no confidence in my own ability to do the same. I know I have the ability it’s just a muscle that hasn’t been stretched much. And I just may have stumbled upon the first exercise to get that muscle working. Over dinner on our last day in India, I was telling my roommate about my week, struggling to put words to such a multi-faceted experience when it was her turn to spill. First off, she said India felt strangely familiar to her. She felt at home and like she’d been there before when she hadn’t even come close to it.
Here’s a little background on my roommate. Her name is Alyssa. She is finishing up her last semester of college here on the ship but she spent her last three years at UVA. She’s from Singapore but has lived in Germany and China as well. She is a very independent person. She’s had to be with her going to school in the U.S. and her family being half-way around the world in Singapore. In most of the ports she has made it a priority to go out on her own for a few hours or even a full day. I thought she was crazy for doing so but each time without fail, she would come back with the best stories and the most intimate connections with the locals and their culture. It was while she was recounting her solo excursion through Chennai where she got to talking to an Indian family who took her out to lunch at their favorite restaurant and drove her back to port that I decided I needed to give the solo thing a try. It would be good for me. It would force me to step up and take control of my life in ways I’ve taken for granted. I told Alyssa this and she recommended I give it a shot in her home city of Singapore. So I am. Tomorrow we dock in Singapore and I am still on track to venture through the city all by myself. I’ll have a list of ‘must-dos’ courtesy of Alyssa but I’m really willing to just see where the day takes me. I hope I walk away with my own amazing story and new connections like Alyssa always does.
        Back to India. I struggled to describe it to Alyssa and I’m still struggling to try and describe it to you. There is so much to talk about. The place is just bustling and dirty and the homeless and beggars are everywhere, people are trying to sell you something at every corner, you’re more likely to see a polar bear than a trash can in India and the scene depicts that, families of five miraculously pile on to motorcycles, it’s normal to sit in the same spot for an hour to the cacophonous sound of honking and getting absolutely no where in rush hour traffic, the most extravagant and artistically adorned ancient palaces perch on mountains like they did centuries ago, monkeys swing from ruin to ruin, toilets take the form of a hole in the ground surrounded by pools of liquid you’re better off just assuming is water, women in beautiful saris stroll the dusty streets, unclaimed cows roam anywhere and everywhere (gas station, sidewalk, highway median… you name it), emaciated camels pull buggies of people from place to place, seemingly lifeless dogs collapse wherever the shade falls, rickshaws (open-air mini-taxis) dangerously weave through traffic taking their passengers usually to the wrong destination and for a ridiculous fee. That’s just a sliver of what is India. That’s only a sliver of the India I saw. I ran into people from England and France who were spending two months traveling all over India in the hopes of at least scraping the surface. I have never before been to a place that is so rich and diverse. You could spend a lifetime traveling through India and still not have experienced everything there is to experience.
        I spent my first day in Chennai, the port city where our ship docked. I set out with my roommate with no real plan of what to do other than maybe try and get a ticket to the cricket match happening that afternoon, enjoying a delicious Indian meal, and wandering the major marketplace, Tyr Nagar.  We selected a rickshaw based on which driver was least annoying and the most fairly priced. Turns out the cheapest one was a motorized rickshaw that only recently made the transition from man-power to motor-power. Our driver was excited to point out his ride’s new addition. We soon found out that motor-power did not mean anything but a deserved physical break for the driver. He didn’t have to pedal but we moved at a snails pace. If I were to have gotten out of the overly cramped carriage designed for a person two feet smaller than me, I think I could have out-WALKED the thing. Nonetheless, we felt it was the most perfect way to take our first dive into the country because we knew that experience was going to remain a unique experience. Never again would we opt for the newly-motored rickshaw over an auto-rickshaw.
Not surprisingly, our driver did NOT know where our stated destination was despite bobbing his head from side to side, the Indian’s equivalent of the up and down shake we’re used to. We’ve found through our travels in other countries that this is quite common and that when you introduce a language barrier, you’re best bet is to just embrace the unintended location you’re dropped off at. Instead of Tyr Nagar, we were dropped at a major shopping mall. We’re talking 4 floors of high-end shopping, food and cinema. It was just an indoor, air-conditioned version of what we really wanted. We decided to grab a bite to eat in the mall’s food court, our first Indian meal of the week. I ordered a chicken curry with pratha. Amazing. Amazingly spicy too. My undereyes were sweating. My throat, lips, and entire mouth was on fire but the pain was soooo worth it.
        After lunch we attempted to go see the cricket match. India is currently hosting the Cricket world cup. The match that afternoon was South Africa v. Ireland. Our source was wrong about timing because we arrived just as the match was ending. Oh well, we got to see the stadium at least. We hailed another rickshaw to head to Tyr Nagar, finally. The marketplace was bustling and busy. We stopped into a ready-made Indian clothing store. Trying to stay practical with my purchases, I did not buy an authentic Indian sari but I did get a beautiful green shirt and scarf. The decision process was grueling and complicated. Most Indian shops have thousands, if not millions, of fabrics to choose from. And the employees expect you to just walk in and know exactly what you want. Or so it seemed. They pulled hundreds of shirts out of their packaging to show me and I ended up going with something on a rack right next to me. It’s a pressure-laden situation. Let me recreate for you a typical shopping trip in India. You walk into the store with the intention to browse at your own pace and solicit the help of a sale’s employee when you have a question or are ready to buy. In India, there is no such thing as browsing. From their perspective, you ARE going to buy something and if you don’t it’s personal.  An employee immediately attaches themselves to you, pulls down scarves from high shelves, unwraps packaged clothing, forces you to try things on. All I know is, you are not the one driving the shopping experience and in most cases you end up with things you didn’t even know you needed or wanted and most times don’t need or want. Things are really cheap so it’s not the end of the world when you spend 1000 rupees on four shirts and five scarves.
Another miraculous trip by rickshaw back to the same mall we were dropped at earlier and we are now taking our seats in the front row of an even nicer movie theatre than you would find in the states. I say miraculous because I honestly am still trying to work out how I wasn’t in or witness to an accident in my high-speed, millimeters-away-from-hitting-an-old -lady, cow, school bus, and-motorcyclist, nearly tipping on sharp turns, trip to the mall. An act of God is the only explanation. Another miracle was arriving minutes before the start of an Indian film and successfully purchasing the last two seats in the theatre. Yeah they were front row. Yes the film was in pure Hindi without subtitles. Yes we were at the mercy of deciphering the storyline via facial expressions, setting, and the laughter of the audience but it was a BOLLYWOOD film in INDIA! How could we not do it this way?? By the end of the movie, I actually felt I had a good grasp on the plot. I even joined in the theatre’s laughter at times. I must secretly understand Hindi or something. Haha. I’m definitely going to be tracking down the movie and watching it with subtitles to see how well I did at deciphering the film.
Three and a half hours after arriving back at the ship, I was up and running at 3:30 in the morning for my trip to New Delhi, Agra, and Jaipur. We had a flight out of Chennai on Kingfisher Airlines. Best in-flight meal I have ever had. For a two and a half hour flight, we were served a full tray of Indian curry, toast, fruit salad, coffee, water, and tea. Plus I got to watch American television. It’s been too long!
The whole first day was spent sightseeing in New Delhi. We visited a bunch of landmarks I honestly can’t tell you the name of but they were old ruins, forts, tombs, and even Gandhi’s cremation site.
The second day we woke up bright and early for our train ride to Agra. Another amazing in-train meal and the company of four British travelers, left me refueled and inspired to make the most out of my time in Agra. The Brits had been traveling all over India for the past month. They had three weeks to go and were traveling from place to place via train. They had so many stories to share so the three-hour train ride flew as we traveled through monotonous, yet gorgeous, countryside as the sun was still breaking the horizon.
The first few steps off the platform at the train station were something I was not prepared for and something I will never forget for the rest of my life. Especially after such an enjoyable train ride with some friendly and familiar Brits.  Immediately we were thrown into a scene of women begging for money to help feed the babies they were swaddling in their arms, deformed men walking on all fours or swinging by their arms because they were legless, or the legs they had were blown up like balloons. There were children as young as three years old reaching for the water bottle in the side pocket of my backpack or begging for food. And then there were the relentless hockers trying to sell us useless souvenirs. The walk from the platform to our awaiting bus was maybe a distance of 20 or so steps but I felt like time was warping or something. The short walk was so rich with poverty and unsettling devastation. When we were on the bus pulling away, I looked down from my window and there was a little five-year old boy holding the hand of his three-year brother. His little brother was bawling. They were both so dirty and disheveled. Their hair and skin was caked in dirt and dust. Their clothes were mere remnants of the t-shirt and shorts they once were. To see such young children living in those conditions flat out broke, no shattered, my heart into a million pieces. I was brought to tears. I wanted to jump out of the bus and go put a smile on the little boy’s face, fill their empty stomachs, and give them a life they deserve. I remember thinking, if this is what I can expect for the next four days, I don’t think I’m going to be able to handle it.
Fortunately, the next three days were mostly spent fending off obnoxious hockers and visiting amazing palaces and forts. Among those amazing places was the Taj Mahal, a dream come true. When I first laid eyes on it, I actually think my heart stopped beating. I could not believe I was standing where I was. It was absolutely unbelievable.
The other highlight stop was our visit to the Amber Fort in Jaipur. It was an old palace that sat on top of a hill overlooking the whole city. It was gorgeous from afar but even more spectacular up close and personal when I got to see all of the hand-painting and extravagant detail on every surface. It quickly became my favorite location in all of the India that I saw. One of the best parts was ascending the hill to the palace on the back of an elephant. Yep, I rode an elephant up to a palace in India. Check on the bucket list right there.
Fast forward to the final day in India back in Chennai, after my amazing four-day overnight trip. I spent the morning at a local university learning about Hinduism, Islam, Jainism, Sikhism, Buddhism and Gandhi’s legacy of nonviolence in India from Indian professors. I spent the afternoon at one of Mother Theresa’s missionaries of charity playing with a bunch of children who used to roam the streets homeless. Sounds like a perfect last day to me. And it absolutely was. I was inspired by the dedication and passion of the sisters to their work at the missionary. They were so fully involved in taking care of these kids and providing them with the love they deserve. It was so apparent that they were doing exactly what they were put on this earth to do. I hope that whatever I spend the rest of my life doing, that I can do it with that kind of limitless, undying dedication.

Residual Ghana, A Boatload of South Africa, and then throw in a little Mauritius too

Before I even attempt to summarize four and a half extraordinary days in South Africa and one refreshing day in Mauritius, I just want to say how extremely grateful I am for this experience. It’s really sinking in. I thought it already had but apparently not. We’re about halfway into our trip. We’ve been to six different countries, including the Bahamas and have six left to go. Those six countries have each made such an impression on me in their own unique way and I have been changed by every single moment that I was able to spend in each of them. I am growing in ways I never even knew were possible and discovering things about myself that I didn’t know existed. It’s exactly what I had hoped this experience would do to me and then some. One rather important and life-changing moment that I didn’t mention in my Ghana post was something I discovered after-the-fact, after I had been back on the ship for a few days and given a chance to process everything I had experienced. I think I mentioned how I was given several opportunities to visit schools in the small village of Senase and even step up in front of the class and teach. Well, the memories of teaching the classes really stuck with me. Images of the kids and the schools kept flashing through my mind nonstop. I’ve found the best way to sort out these experiences is by writing about them in my journal. When I started pouring out the memories on to the pages of my journal, I stumbled across a possible reason for why the images had been haunting me so often. I didn’t realize how bothered I was by the method of teaching and the classroom atmosphere. Everything was so structured and rigid. There was no room for the kids to be themselves or the teachers to be themselves. The headmaster would circle from room to room checking in. At one of the schools he even held a cain/switch for discipline. It was not the type of elementary school I grew up in. What I believe is missing is some creativity, a chance for everyone involved in the educational environment to express themselves, through art (there was none whatsoever), through different learning methods, even through an improved classroom environment. Of course, the schools in Ghana are limited financially but that does not have to prevent the kids and teachers from actually getting something long-term out of their time in school. The current method of teaching is rote memorization. That’s good but that lasts all about 10 seconds. This issue probably extends to the schools in America as well. I know I for one definitely have gotten through classes via cram sessions and pure memorization without any real understanding. So this issue is probably on a much larger scale than just Ghana. Nonetheless, it is a much simpler life in Ghana. They are not surrounded by so much excess stuff. There’s no real stimulation. I believe stimulation can enhance long-term learning. Back in the 5th grade, when I attended catholic school one of my teachers tried a new learning approach on us that involved a smorgasbord of hands-on activities. It was so far from the typical note-taking, study, test, move on approach. I can honestly say I still remember a lot of what I learned that year in her class and we’re talking 5th grade (!) here. Obviously not all of the details, but at least the main points. None of the lessons she taught required anything more than our full attention. That is why I believe taking a curriculum, no matter where you are in the world, no matter the financial situation, and getting creative with it and finding new ways to present the material that fully engage the students can go a long way. Even now as I write this, I’m thinking about how I just might contact my old 5th grade teacher to find out if she continued teaching in this way and how she thinks it worked out from her point of view. Wow, I’ve strayed from my main point. Basically, places like Ghana have opened me up to new interests and possibilities to explore within my life. I’m loving it. It’s been such an adventure already and I’m seeing how just because a port visit may be over, the repercussions of that port visit are continuously evolving and changing my life. I am now unexpectedly hooked on this area of alternative learning methodologies. It’s definitely something that I may even consider really diving into when I get off the ship and maybe even after college. I don’t know but I’m finding it’s okay to let life lead and trust that the path can and will appear for you if you’re open to it and that when you step outside of your comfort zone, that is where the discoveries and opportunities occur. So I’m not going to freak out that this is so far from the major I’m going to school for or that I have absolutely no experience in this area whatsoever. If it’s what is right for me, I’m willing to trust that the how will appear in time. Whatever’s meant to happen will.
        Now for South Africa, the 6-day trip that suddenly became 4.5 thanks to some strong wind and rough seas. That’s right. We missed the first day and half of our precious time in South Africa but I am proud to say I was able to squeeze every last thing that I wanted to do into those 4.5 days. It meant getting almost no sleep and traveling up and down and all over the Cape Peninsula but I did it; wine tour, safari, township and school visit, concert on the beach, table mountain, penguins at Boulder Beach, Robben Island, sampled the nightlife, dined in some amazing restaurants, shopped in the marketplace, and even restocked my snack supply for the ship. Looking back, I’m actually pretty impressed with myself. Cape Town is an amazing place and even the few people I met who are in the area for extended periods of time say their time’s not even enough to get everything in. Of course I need to go back some day and do it all over again but I’m satisfied with my time there. The port is absolutely gorgeous. Right away, I was struck by the clean and polished buildings and streetways, the sailboats in the harbor, the giant ferris wheel, the strip of waterfront restaurants, the seals playing in the water and finally the landmark Table Mountain, covered in it’s tablecloth made of clouds.  It was soooo different then what we had just left in Ghana. It actually felt like Disney World. I felt like I was walking through Epcot or the Magic Kingdom. There were street performers. I think I heard the entire soundtrack of The Lion King played by everything from a trumpet to a xylophone by week’s end. It was nice being able to blend into the tourist crowd for a change rather than being the main attraction. And there were people from all over the world in Cape Town. I met people from Argentina, Brazil, Zimbabwe, Germany, France, Australia, England, China… The day we arrived there was a U2 concert so many of the tourists were there for that but many others were there for study abroad or to learn English. I’m not going to go into excruciating detail about each day that I spent in Cape Town because there is just too much to talk about but I will give you some of the highlights:
•       I went on a legitimate African Safari where I saw zebra, buffalo, hippos, a lion (sort of, at least the outline of the lazy lion sleeping under a tree), cheetahs, and even had the chance to get out of our jeep and walk around with the giraffes. It was unreal and definitely a check mark on my bucket list.
•       Along the way to the safari, we took the scenic route through the mountains where a bunch of baboons chased our car, coming out of nowhere. Mommies, daddies, babies, the whole family. The drive was amazing, through the winelands and around mountains where the first step off the road would take you over a pretty decent cliff.
•       The food!!!!! So good. I ate at so many different restaurants including a world-renowned Indian restaurant, an authentic South African restaurant, a restaurant with live jazz, a Portuguese restaurant, a small café that served banana and nutella pancakes with ice cream a la mode. Let’s talk about the Indian restaurant, Jewel of India, because that was quite a meal. I had never tried Indian food before and about 10 different people had recommended this particular restaurant. And I can honestly see why. We sat on cushions around an intricately tiled coffee table like table. I have never eaten a formal meal on cushions before!  I ordered something called Chicken Kadhaii and some naan and rice to dip in the curry. I also tried a mango lassi. Mmmmm! I am officially pumped for India. I also visited an authentic South African restaurant where I tried ostrich, kudu, eland, and springbok. Ostrich was okay. The kudu, eland, and springbok…DELICIOUS!  There’s also this South African dessert called malva pudding that I ordered on two different occasions because it is just that good. I’m definitely going to try and recreate it when I’m home.
•       I went and visited Boulders Beach to see the penguins and there were plenty of them. It was amazing how unafraid they were to come up to people. They would even pose for a picture. I swear they were even smiling. However, the wind. Oh buddy. Don’t ever let anyone tell you Cape Town is not windy. It’s like a Category 5 hurricane all the time. I thought I was going to blow away. Now, my roommate and I did this trip at the end of the day and finished our penguin viewing around 7:30, having no idea about the minor detail that taxis stop running at 6 pm. This place was at least a full hour from our ship. We thought it was sort of strange that we were practically the only people around but didn’t think anything of it until we’re paying for our check at dinner and asking our waitress how we can go about getting a cab. That’s when she broke it to us that we might be stranded in Simon’s Town. Thank god she remembered that she had the cell phone of a friend of hers who drives a taxi AND who was willing to take us such a long distance after hours. The guy was a little strange. Picture a kilt-wearing, bag-pipe playing portly old man with a thick Dutch accent and you’ve got the idea. The soundtrack of the drive home was some interesting music that totally fit the guy’s physical appearance. I probably could have guessed that’s what I would be listening to before I even stepped in the car. In some strange sense, I sort of enjoyed it. I just may track down some of the music just to remember the experience. Haha.
•       I went to a concert on the beach in a really posh area of Cape Town called Clifton’s Bay. My night, scratch that, my TRIP was complete when the band played Waka Waka. We heard about the concert via a local. We just might have been the only foreigners there too. The whole atmosphere reminded me of a summer night back at home, like the fourth of July or something. Families were gathered on their beach blankets with sandwiches and drinks, listening and dancing to the music. Kids were running around with glow sticks. Comfortable is the best word I can think of to describe how I felt when I was there. I felt like I actually was at home. The only thing that woke me up to the fact that I wasn’t was the South African accents coming from everyone but us.
•       I went on a bicycle ride through a township. In case you don’t know, the townships are the areas where the blacks were moved to during apartheid. They still live there by choice, however there’s a low, middle, and upper class within the townships now that didn’t exist then. We visited an AIDS clinic and a school. At the school we were able to play soccer with some of the boys. If I could, I would go to a school and play soccer with the locals at every single port. I had the chance while in Rio and then again in South Africa. Both times have been even better than I could have expected. We also visited the computer lab where a class full of 5 and 6 year olds were learning how to use a computer. The 30 of us SAS kids split off and found a child to help. I helped two of the cutest little girls learn how to hold a computer mouse and drag shoes, socks and clothing over a teddy bear on the computer screen. Neither of them spoke English so it was a little difficult but it’s amazing how far a smile can go.

It was a sad moment when we pulled out of South Africa. I think the entire ship must have been aft to watch South Africa fade under the horizon. Someone was playing all the world cup songs and a little bit of their U2 CD from the concert. It was a truly perfect sailaway but sad nonetheless.

Fast forward four days and we’re in Mauritius. A short-lived visit, only one day. According to my oceanography professor, the island reminded him a lot of Kauai with its green mountains and coastlines. I spent the day on his FDP. It was technically a school field trip and I did actually learn a thing or two but it was mostly lying in a hammock on a private island being served unlimited juice, soda, and virgin pina coladas with a little bit of snorkeling mixed in there. It was too perfect. Now I’m back on the ship and heading to India. It’s a 6-day stretch until we get there and it will be a busy one. After India, it’s going to be rapid-fire Asian countries. We’ll only be on the ship for a maximum of two days in a row, then we hit another port for about 5 days, then 2 days on the boat and it’s another port. For an entire month, we have about 10 class days. I hope my professors don’t actually expect us to get work done!

By the way, I LOVE getting email. So don’t hesitate to send me one at aedunlap@semesteratsea.net. This is a desperate plea. Life on the ship can get pretty boring and an inbox full of emails from home will do more than just brighten my day. Thanks in advance =)

Going Going Ghana

Oh Ghana. What an experience. It all began to the beat of African drums outside my 3rd deck window. We docked in Takoradi, Ghana, a very industrial port. The walk from the ship’s gangway to the end of the pier took around twenty minutes. A peaceful and odorous (from the cocoa beans stored in the warehouses) twenty minute stroll to the entrance gates of the pier where there awaited a mob of taxi drivers and people asking for your name to embroider on a bracelet. Everyone fighting for your attention, pulling you in one direction, then the other. Draping their arms around you like you’re old friends. So chaotic, you can’t even think, can’t even locate the other members of your group. “No thank you” seemed to have no effect on these salesmen. Slowly we picked up on the method of dealing with them and eventually ended up outside the massive mob to regroup and begin the walk into town. The trick is to look them directly in the eye, say “no” with confidence and continue on your way. Indecision is deadly. They jump on that like a swarm of vultures. This was our first taste of Ghana. It didn’t quite begin on the best note. So far my impression of the Ghanaians was that of distrust. It seemed as though they were all out to take advantage of the wide-eyed, fresh-off-the-boat American.
        My impression was only reinforced when myself and three others tried to snag a taxi to the Cape Coast Slave Castle. We were told on the ship that cab fare to the castle would be around 22 cedis. As it turned out, not a single one of the 6 taxis we haggled with would drop the price below 40. They threw every excuse in the book at us for why they wouldn’t drop their price including “I’m a Christian,” “Gas is 7 cedi a gallon,” and “They wouldn’t make a profit.” Nonetheless, we finally hopped in a taxi after an hour of having the same conversation over and over again began to wear on us and grudgingly paid the 40 cedi (10 cedi per person). We ended up getting scammed again and utterly lost on the way home. When our cab driver said he knew how to get to the port in Takoradi, he actually meant he was going to make frequent stops along the way to catch up with friends who would then feed him directions until the next abrupt stop in the trip. We left the castle at 6 and got home around 8:30pm. The lesson learned was if you’re going a good distance away from port, just hire a taxi for the day. Our classmates did this and were able to go anywhere they needed to at any time throughout the day for a grand total of around 40 cedi per person. So for 30 more cedis we could have avoided this stress.
        The Cape Coast Slave Castle was amazing, all white-washed and overlooking a bustling beach front where small fishing boats were being pushed out to sea, boys were playing football and women were washing clothes. This was one of the two slave castles I visited in my time in Ghana. The other was called Elmina Slave Castle. Obama and his family actually visited the Cape Coast Castle recently to pay their respects to their African ancestors. We saw the memorial wreath they left behind in one of the dungeons. The stories the tour guide shared with us just blew my mind. Slaves were divided by gender and strength and were stored in cramped dungeons 250 at a time for up to 3 months, forced to live in their own, sweat, tears, vomit, and waste. There was one tiny hole in the ceiling for light and as a result, many went blind or died from the horrendous living conditions. Even more disturbing is the fact that in both castles a church was built directly above the male slave dungeon. So while the Europeans and Portuguese and Dutch were praising God, 250 men that they were holding captive were just beneath the brick floors drowning in their own bodily waste. We had the chance to walk through “The Door of No Return.” This was the door the slaves walked through before they were loaded onto ships and sent off to the Americas and Europe.  The level of dehumanization of the slaves is disgusting, especially in contrast to the life of the slave traffickers. They lived on the premises in enormous rooms full of natural light and beautiful ocean views.  It was quite an experience seeing first hand the actual origins of the slave trade I’ve learned so much about in history classes growing up.
        The bright side of having such a difficult first day was that things could only improve from there. And they did. Tenfold. My next three days were spent in a small village to the northwest about 7 hours called Senase. A group of Semester at Sea kids from the Fall voyage had done the same trip and highly recommended it to our voyage. Basically it was a homestay where we had the opportunity to live in a rural community and get a true look inside the life of a Ghanaian. Our tour guide Fred, grew up in Senase and began his company Can Do Land Tours only a few years ago. He is literally the most selfless and giving person I have ever met. Without a second thought he was willing to lend money and accommodate us in whatever way we needed. His only desire was for us to have a great experience living with and learning about his culture. Apparently, he makes almost no profit off of his tours. He charges just enough to cover transportation and other unavoidable fees and I believe it. We got a lot for our cedi, air-conditioned bus, slave castle tour, meals, lodging, and unforgettable memories. When he’s not giving tours, he’s volunteering at the local schools and I don’t get the sense he’s giving a lot of tours. Ghana isn’t exactly a tourist hot spot. Oh yeah and did I mention he is only 20 years old?! This guy is absolutely my newest role model, right up there with Nelson Mandela and Gabby from my trip to Haiti. The group of SAS kids from last semester were so touched by their experience in Senase that they started a non-profit to improve education in the region. It’s hard not to be touched by the people of Senase. They were all extremely welcoming and so genuine, so unlike the people I had met in urban Takoradi. I have a stack of torn sheets of paper full of various names and addresses from all of my new friends in Ghana. It was amazing how quickly they were able to accept you and then call you a friend.
        We arrived really late on the first day of our three-day tour and left mid-afternoon on our final day so the only full day we had was the second day. It was a ‘full’ day in every sense of the word. We were stuffed with delicious Ghanaian food for breakfast, lunch, and dinner (porridge and bread, cassava and some vegetable and tomato sauce, beans and jollof rice, fried plantains) and even were lucky enough to sample some freshly picked bananas and papau (sp?) during our tour of Fred’s mother’s farm. We were given the chance to visit several local schools and were able to teach a class. My friend Sarah and I taught a class of 6-9 year olds math and English. It was so much fun and the kids were so well behaved. I had a chance to chat with their teacher while they were doing an assignment and learned a lot about the local education system. The public schools are a total joke and completely unreliable. The kids will show up for school everyday and the teachers may not.  As a result, most parents try their best to send their kids to private schools but sometimes the fees force their kids out of school for periods of time until they are able to pay. The teacher pointed around the room at the various empty desks. He said that there were students in those desks that morning until the headmaster came around and sent those students home for not being able to pay tuition. He said most of them will be back but it’s difficult to keep everyone on the same page when there is so much flux in attendance. This explains the reason why 6 year olds are learning the same material in the same classroom as the 9 year olds. It is such a different life in Ghana. After the kids were released from school for the day, many of them followed us home to watch our drumming and dance rehearsal. The next morning we would be performing in front of the entire village. The only problem, we soon found out, is that we had no rhythm whatsoever. Our 6 drummers were really good but our dancers were a mess. All of us were on different feet, missing the change of the drum beats that signaled we were supposed to go from the bend and shuffle move to the spirit fingers side to side move. It was hilarious. At least to us it was. Our director was not happy. He was taking this very seriously. He wouldn’t even let us take water breaks. After two hours of practicing, we got it to a semi-presentable level and called it quits for dinner. Dinner was followed with a night at the club where we danced to hiplife, the Ghanaian music genre that I am absolutely hooked on at the moment. Fred burned us all CD’s of his favorites. Look it up if you get the chance (especially Make it Clap by Westlife). This club had one bathroom and it was built for men only so my friend Gabby and I asked Fred’s friend Jo Kevin if he knew of another bathroom somewhere. 30 minutes later (!!!) we arrived at a public toilet. Apparently, this was the closest toilet with stalls. We still had to squat and go to the bathroom in a hole in the ground flanked by two wooden boards. Though by this point in the trip we were experts at this method. On the way out, a woman cleaning up her little shop introduced herself to Gabby and I and within 2 seconds she had named me her friend and given me a sheet of paper with all of her information on it.
        The next morning we were surprised with another opportunity to visit a school. And then further surprised to find out that we would each be placed in a classroom by ourselves and expected to teach for a half an hour. I was terrified. We all were. What were we supposed to teach for 30 whole minutes? I woke up mentally preparing for our African dance, not a lesson plan. I was put in the Level 3 class full of 13-15 year olds. The moment I entered the classroom, I saw 20 sets of eyes all staring at me waiting for me to do something. I went up to the teacher and asked if she had anything in particular that she wanted me to teach them. She just looked at me like she didn’t understand English. So I clarified. Do you want me to teach math--- Before I could finish, she  abruptly turned to a cupboard nearby and pulled out a math textbook, handed it to me along with a piece of chalk and then settled into the back of the classroom. I scrambled through the pages trying to find an exercise while the class sat in silence staring at me, waiting. I went for something easy, addition and subtraction. As I grew more comfortable and the kids started raising their hands to answer questions and come to the board to solve problems, I kicked it up a notch and taught them how to simplify fractions. My lesson was a little all over the place but I was just glad I was up there making an attempt. I could have just completely froze and neither them nor I would have gotten anything out of that 30 minutes. After talking with my other friends, their teachers were a bit more helpful, providing at least a little bit of guidance as to what to teach. Never would I have imagined I would be teaching in a classroom in Ghana. Twice.
        Never would I have imagined I would be dressed in indigenous African garb, dancing to the beat of drums, in front of 400 villagers. With no chance to refresh our memories on the routine we had practiced the night before, we were thrust into the hot African sun in the middle of the dusty courtyard, our stage. We made it through the first few moves fine. Then the second cycle of moves arrived and everything crumbled. No one was sure what they were doing so they looked to someone else who had no idea what they were doing. The villagers made serious attempts to contain their laughter but it was impossible. I was dying of laughter just performing it. I can’t even imagine how funny it was from the spectator’s view. Our director threw in a few local school girls to try and resurrect the dance and it helped a little bit but we were pretty much a lost cause. We all just started having fun with it. The villagers would clap and cheer when any one of us would finally start getting the move right. We captured this debacle on film and I promise I will post it on facebook when I get a chance. What made this even funnier was our outfits. The boys wore  only shorts, in crazy, bright African patterns. The girls wore knee-length skirts and very revealing bandeau tops. We looked ridiculous especially since some people didn’t remove their t-shirts and instead just tied the bandeau over their shirt. Others kept their sports bras on because the fabric was see-through. Some even wore pants under the skirt. We were the local comedy act for a good 20 minutes. I’m just glad the villagers and elders found it as funny as we did and at least seemed to appreciate the fact that we had tried.
        After the dance, we said our goodbyes and then paid a visit to Fred’s 110-year old grandmother still going strong while our bus was being repaired for our long 7-hour trip back to port. On the way out of Fred’s grandmother’s house, there was a parked car with a Penn State bumper sticker on it. Of all the places I would be visiting, Ghana was the last place I would have imagined to find a Penn State anything. But there it was, back windshield. I got a few shots with it. I happened to be wearing a Penn State T-shirt at the time. It was picture perfect.
        Fast forward through a sleepy ride back to Takoradi with a little Disney karaoke and some successful souvenir shopping mixed in there and we were back at the ship. Home sweet home. Place of toilets that flush, nice warm showers, and plenty of fresh, clean drinking water………….. Or so we thought and dreamed about all 7 hours of our trip only to find out that after THREE days of not washing and tramping through dust and farmland in the sweat-inducing hot African sun, we would have to wait another 8 hours until we would be able to flush a toilet, take a shower, and drink fresh water. It was like one of those cruel jokes except the “just kidding” never came. I slept in my filth for one more night and awoke early the next morning for the best shower of my life.
        The final day was spent at an FDP (Faculty-Directed Practica) on fishing and agriculture in Ghana. FDP’s are required for each of my classes. They are basically field trips while in port led by our professors and a few expert locals. We have to write papers and do presentations on what we’ve learned when we’re back out to sea. For this FDP, we traveled up to Cape Coast and watched fishermen go about their daily business taking a small canoe out to sea, dropping some net, and returning two hours later with some fish. We saw the catch and mixed in among the fish and crabs and sea snake was a lot of trash. Around Ghana, there are no trashcans so people just throw their trash anywhere they please. The beach was covered in it and the ocean is filled with it. We also saw the gender divide. The men take care of the fishing and farming while the women stay at home and process what the men bring back. We witnessed women grinding cassava into powder or something called Garry (Sp?) and frying fish on a huge grill. Most of the villages in Ghana are self-sustaining. They hardly ever make a profit but they almost always break even. Once again, I was reminded of how unnecessary a lot of things in my life are. These Ghanaians possess only what they absolutely need, nothing more, nothing less. Many don’t go hungry and are able to grow or collect most of their food supplies by themselves without spending a single cedi. They lead a very self-sustainable lifestyle. It was a very informative field trip but I was anxious to head back to the city and spend my final hours wandering the market place once more before we pulled out.
As my roommate and I were about 5 minutes into the 20-minute stroll down the pier, two men who worked at the pier offered to drive us to the gates. We hopped in their truck and they ended up taking us to our intended location, the market, free of charge and bypassing the mob of taxi drivers and bracelet sellers. So relieved! And of course we each acquired two new friends and sheets of paper with contact information. The marketplace brought yet another hysterical and memorable moment. I was on a mission to purchase a banana. I had tried one at Fred’s farm and because it was so good, I wanted one more before I left Ghana. Down a really narrow and busy street, a young girl passed by with a tray of yellow bananas balanced on her head. I stopped her and asked how much for one. She said 50 cents. I gave her 50 and she placed one in the bag and then two and then three and then four… until I had about 8 bananas. I was confused but I took the bag anyway and continued through the marketplace. As we were exiting the narrow street, a women pulled me aside, started speaking in Twi, and making peeling motions as if she were peeling a banana. Of course she was referring to my purchase. I told her that I only speak English and she quickly picked up what she was saying in English and asked me what I was going to do with my bananas. Once again, I was confused and I said, now unsure, “I’m going to eat them?” She looked at me, laughed and walked away. How strange. As I continued walking down the street, people kept looking in my bag and making weird faces. Taking a closer look at the bananas I had just bought, they really didn’t look too edible. I decided I wasn’t going to eat them and began the search again for some healthier looking bananas. That must be why everyone’s staring at my bag. They realize I bought rotten bananas. I found some better looking ones on the main street and once again asked how much, making it clear that I only wanted one and that I only had 25 cents to spend. They gave me one but for some reason the woman seemed resistant to do so. I started walking away and began peeling my banana. The outside of the banana looked great. The inside had an orange tinge and when I went to break off a piece to share with my roommate, it was almost too stiff to even break off. Immediately, four different women came at me from all angles, all speaking at once in a mix of English and Twi. A girl suddenly approached with a tray of green, unripened bananas balanced on her head. Then finally someone explained to me that I had purchased plantain and that the green unripened bananas were what I was seeking. Someone snatched the plantain out of my hand, concluding that I obviously wasn’t going to be eating it and I yet again purchased a banana, but this time it was the real thing and exactly what I had been craving, just as sweet and delicious as the one on the farm. How amazingly embarrassing yet extremely hilarious the whole ordeal was, but something I will never forget. Never will I mix up a banana with a plantain ever again. Rookie mistake. Next stop South Africa.

9 hours of sleep in 3 days

I am EXHAUSTED. I just spent three very jam-packed days in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. The trip began at 9pm Sunday night. We had an overnight flight from Manuas to Rio that was scheduled to leave at 11:30 but due to multiple delays, we didn't leave until around 1am. Tack on the two hours that we lost due to switching time zones, we arrived in Rio on maybe 1 hour of uninterrupted sleep. When we flew over Rio, it didn't even matter how much sleep I had or hadn't gotten. The excitement of a new city to explore was enough to restore my energy. The place was carpeted in green and its mountains crested in very unique hunch backs. The flyover gave us an interesting perspective. We could see the favellas climbing up the mountain sides, the very urbanized coastline full of high rises, the 'Big Jesus' statue, Sugarloaf.

The moment we hit solid ground, it was off and running on our first day in Rio. What a whirlwind. We were picked up at the airport by our guide, Riccardo,  who accompanied us throughout our stay. A native Rio de Janeir'an with excellent english, Riccardofilled us in on the history and landmarks of Rio as we traveled past favellas, through the suburbs, through downtown Rio, and finally dumping us on the beach at a quiosque for breakfast. A quiosque is basically a little stand that serves drinks and light fare. The beaches of Rio are covered in them and our breakfast was delicious. An assortment of breads, jam, cheese, and meat. Little cinnamon rolls. Fresh papaya and cantelope. Moccacinos and freshly squeezed orange juice. The food just kept coming. Sooo good! Right after breakfast, we hopped on some bikes and spent the next 3 hours biking the endless paths through Rio, occassionally stopping for pictures. One of the greatest things about RIo is how active its residents are and how easy it is to be active in Rio. They have bike paths lining the beaches and through the city that are constantly filled with people all hours of the day. There are countless beach volleyball courts and beach soccer fields along most of the stretch of the beaches and they are always occuppied by some pretty amazing athletes. I swear no one is bad at soccer in Rio. If you could see these average citizens out on the sand playing foot volley (a cross between soccer and volleyball), you would be amazed. It's so effortless and I can see why. Kids as young as 4 years old are out on the sand playing soccer. It's ingrained in their upbringing.

The bike ride took us through the beaches of Copacabana and Ipanema and on to the perimeter of Guanabara Bay. We stopped at a drink vendor to rehydrate. It was HOT. 35 degrees C and climbing! That's over 100 degrees F. I bought a coco water. They saw off the top of a cocunut, hand you a straw and you suck up the sweet cocunut juice. So refreshing! Next stop was the Flamengo sports club where we got a tour of the facilities. The Flamengo futebol team recently signed Ronaldhino so there were huge murals of him all over the walls. I never realized how futebol clubs worked until this tour. Basically a 'club' is like a gym, complete with outdoor swimming pools, tennis courts, training fields, etc. The club has teams for every sport and local residents can join the club to use its facilities. What a great way to gather support for the teams of the club. I wish they would start something like this in the states. This could be the key to building soccer's popularity in the US. We saw a group of little boys playing soccer in the indoor soccer field, watched a few world class gymnasts train on the parralel bars, and saw the synchronized swimming team in one of the outdoor pools.

When I say this day was nonstop, I mean it. From Flamengo, we went to a jungle oasis in the middle of the city for a canopy tour, complete with zip line to the finish and a well-deserved lunch. We were strapped into ropes and a caribiner to complete an obstacle course through the canopies of the trees. I wasn't expecting the amount of concentration required to walk across hanging logs and rope bridges and tight ropes. After lunch we were finally taken to our hotel, the South American Copacabana Hotel, just a few blocks fromt the beach where I think every last one of us crashed the moment we found our beds. This was the first chance we had to rest since we were first pulling into Manaus, over 24 hours prior. We had about 3 hours to reenergize before our beach soccer match later that evening.

Beach soccer is a popular pasttime in Rio and I soon found out why. Our soccer game was probably the highlight of my trip to Rio. We were supposed to verse a group of kids from a local NGO but for some reason that fell through so we versed each other instead. The man organizing the game was a local soccer coach who has won a few national titles with his club team. Our perception of this just being a friendly soccer game was quickly wiped away when he began giving us red and white uniforms, both a jersey and shorts. He quickly divided us into teams, blew the whistle and play began. Soccer in the sand is SUCH a work out. After working out all day on very little sleep, we were all dragging but as the game progressed, some locals started gathering around our little field to watch us attempt to play the sport they have pretty much mastered. Eventually, about four or five of them jumped into the game. They were amazing! At one point, two of them juggled the ball up the field, around our defense, and scored a goal. It was pure magic to watch and slightly embarrasing how easy it was for them to walk all over us. During the half (yes this was a full-fledged game, our 'coach' wouldn't let us even get a sip of water until the first 15-minute half was up), I checked off an item on my bucket list: juggle with a Brazilian. Our goalie, Henrique, and I juggled for the duration of the half until finally it was time for half number 2. It was so amazing. At the end of the game we all jumped into the ocean, cooling off from our unexpectedly intense match.

For dinner, we visited a restaurant that was reccomended by our tour guide called Terraforte. It was a traditional brazilian meal where you eat by the quilo, visiting the buffet, filling up your plate, then weighing it and paying the price. Food in Brazil can be very expensive. I'm talking about 35 Reais on average for a good hearty meal. But the food is absolutely delicious and I am hooked on the local soda called Guarana. I'm hoping I can find it in the states somewhere when I'm home.

Day 2 began with kayaking and a hike up Sugarloaf mountain for an amazing view of Rio. The hike was only about 30 minutes but it was STEEP. I didn't realize the Rio Through Sports Tour actually meant bootcamp. My body had more of a work out in these three days than it has had in a while. The final stretch to the top was via cable car. We ended the day at the open air markets along the beach where I bought a sarong, a signature fashion in Brazil and some havaina flip flops. Had to buy the Brazilian flip flops in Brazil, of course.

Day 3 was the day we had all been waiting for. We saw the world-famous Maracana stadium. It was under renovation for the 2014 world cup but still amazing to see. On the way into the stadium, there are footprints/handprints of the best Brazilian soccer stars like Pele and Kaka, kind of like getting a star in hollywood. Then we were taken to a Brazilian Steakhouse where I was adventurous and tried a chicken heart. Never again. It wasn't that it tasted bad. It was just knowing that I was chewing on a heart that made it extremely difficult to get down. Lunch was followed by an open air jeep ride up to Corcovado to visit the Christ the Redeemer statue. It was unreal. I've seen pictures of it and there I was standing right beneath it and overlooking one of the best views of Rio I had seen yet. It was such a great way to end the trip, the capstone moment.

Now I'm back on the ship, ready to catch up on sleep and brace myself for 9 days at sea across the rough seas of the Atlantic. Next stop: Ghana.

A Day in Manaus

Hot. Sticky. Smelly. Disheveled.  That about sums up what I feel like right now after a full day in the Amazonian city of Manaus.  Sitting right on the equator, the sun just beats down on you. Might I also add that I feel energized, excited, adventurous, and changed after my 8-hour excursion through the markets, cathedrals, opera houses, and churrascurias of Manaus. That is one common theme I am picking up on after now having stopped in two ports. Every step into a new country is leaving me full of life and energy. I just want to go, go, go. I don’t think 10 cups of coffee would even match up to the liveliness coursing through my veins right now. My first introduction into Brazil was definitely an adventure. I left the ship around 9am with no plan, just willing the day to unfold naturally. Accompanied by two of my roommates, a few others and one very bare map, we attempted to wing it in through a bustling jungle city. Right off the ramp, cars whizzed by, one man was praising god for bringing such “beautiful ladies” to Manaus, the smell of trash filled the air, and street vendors covered every sidewalk selling exotic fruit, cell phones, and delicious-looking fried goods. We chose a direction and began walking until we realized this town plopped in the middle of the Amazon is actually pretty big and we have no idea where to go, what to see, what to do. We resorted to our map to try and pick a numbered location from a list of destinations all in Portuguese. Settling on the Teatra Amazonas, we headed that direction. Along the way we came across a gorgeous cathedral with a huge mosaic dome. As we walked by, we could hear the church hymns from a mass in progress. Beyond the church, was a long street bustling with vendors farther than the eye could see. There was jewelry and crafts and baskets and finally the one thing that I have no problem spending money on, authentic Brazilian food. I bought a coconut pastry and one little taste of white chocolate with raisins and apricot(?) inside it. Weird combo, but very good. My roommate bought some creamy egg pastry, an acai shake, AND coconut water straight out of the coconut. We each tasted each other’s goods. The acai shake was gross but the coconut water surprisingly good. Finally we reached the opera, another gorgeous piece of architecture. The interior was very ornate and the ceilings were covered in murals. We had arrived just in time for a free performance by the local orchestra. We had seats about two stories up, built into the wall, like individual box seats. What a great view of the surroundings! The performance was just what the doctor ordered. The heat and the sun were really starting to get to me. It was nice to relax in a velvet cushioned chair and sync into the classical sounds of violins, flutes, oboes, violas… So peaceful. After the opera, our group sort of split up due to different intentions for the day. My roommate, Alyssa, and I wandered the streets on our own. We stumbled into some back areas that left us a little uneasy but the citizens of Manaus are some of the friendliest people I have come across. People were greeting us left and right with smiles and “Bom dias.” We made our way into one of the only open shops, a convenience store, where we each bought a refreshing ice cream. We also stopped into a local grocery store (Carrefour) full of interesting food. This was a godsend because the food on the ship can get pretty old. Snacks are a MUST. I bought mango juiceboxes and banana doughnut cookies. I was going for something new. I have no idea how those are going to taste. Ok here comes the good part and the highlight of my day. We were both ready for a real meal so we consulted our trusty map and discovered a recommended restaurant called Churrascaria Bufalo. I thought I had remembered the interport student from Manaus recommending it as well. We attempted to map out the best way to get there and began on our way. Apparently neither of us are any good at reading maps because after about 45 minutes of weaving and backtracking down abandoned streets, passing homeless men sleeping curbside, ignoring whistles from passing vehicles, and battling the heat and dehydration that was starting to set in, we arrived at the restaurant. Looking back, it was probably not the smartest idea, being two lone females wandering such abandoned streets but we made it and laughed about it all the way through an absolutely amazing meal. After we were seated, we each ordered a local soda called Gaurana. Then sat. and sat. and sat. Until finally we struggled to ask a passing waiter why we hadn’t received a menu yet. He pointed to a previously unseen buffet. I guess the restaurant was buffet style. I headed up to fill my plate. There was spaghetti and fish and fries and salad and corn and beans. I was a little let down by the selection but willing to embrace it. When I got back to my table, the waiter came up to me, pointed at my plate and starting saying something to me in Portuguese. I had no idea what he was saying so I just nodded my head and smiled. That obviously wasn’t sufficient because he kept throwing Portuguese at me and began frantically pointing at my plate and then the buffet. Eventually he gave up and walked away. Five minutes later, he comes back to my table and says “Meat, meat!” My plate was full of the side dishes. The real food was at the barbecue, just behind the side dish bar. Somehow I had totally overlooked that too. I wasted no time and soon enough I was standing face to face with some pretty delectable meat all on these huge skewers. I tried a little bit of everything; bacon-wrapped chicken, roasted chicken, beef, mozzarella cheese, garlic bread. It was sooooo good!  The same guy who enlightened me to the wonders of this great restaurant visited our table for the remainder of the meal. We actually made some progress with a broken conversation in English. I got across that I was on a ship and here for 5 days. I also told him again and again how great the food was. I learned his name was Lucas and we got a picture together. He was so nice. Actually the whole staff at the restaurant was great. If I was in Manaus longer I would definitely go back. It was such a great experience and full of hilarious moments that I will never forget. I’m back on the ship now and will be leaving at 9pm tonight for Rio. It’s a 7 hour flight but I am so excited to see what adventures unfold there!

Floating down the Amazon

Right now I am floating down the Amazon River in the heart of the Amazon Rainforest. To say this cool, is an understatement. We still have another two days until we reach our port of Manaus. It's so wierd seeing insects again. I didn't realize they had dissappeared until they were back (and bigger than ever). The water is a murky brown due to the sediment that gets washed down the Andes 3000 miles to our west. The coastline is far enough away that all I can make out are a few scattered houses, no life. I really want to see a pink dolphin. Apparently, they inhabit the Amazon River. I won't be spending much time in the Amazon, so I'm really enjoying this stretch on the river. As soon as we dock, I'll be flying out to Rio for the remainder of our stay in Brazil.

Dominica

        If you’re reading this and you are not in a location that you could randomly start talking to your computer, promise me you will do this later. I want you to just simply say the name of the most amazing island in the Carribbean out loud. Dominica. Dom- in- NEE- ca. Not Duh- min- Ih- ca as I have been calling it since I first looked at the itinerary for this voyage. The sound of the name itself is just a taste of the beauty that Dominica possesses. It is such a beautiful name for such a beautiful place. In just two days, I have already formed attachments. I have never gotten such an energy from a place. Every glance off the deck at the mountains or trek into the little village of Roseau resulted in this sort of charge that coursed through every fiber of my being. It sounds dorky but it is so completely true. I am dreading the moment Dominica slowly fades under the horizon as we hit the open ocean. Seriously. I have never felt this way about any other location. It is just breathtaking. The mountains are covered base-to-peak in the most lush, green vegetation, their summits shrouded in wispy clouds. There are tiny villages built into the greenery, peeking through the palms and jungle. Both days we have been here have begun with a light shower giving way to double rainbows that start in the mountains and end in the ocean. Yesterday, the morning showers were all the precipitation we saw until later that evening. Today was another story but rain or no rain it’s hard to put a damper on any time spent in Dominica. 
        Day  1 involved some stressful searching for my already misplaced camera (which happened to be tucked in a pocket of my backpack that I didn’t even know existed), canyoning (repelling down waterfalls and cliff-jumping) through the jungle, wandering the streets of Dominica, and sampling the nightlife that opened just for us (due to it being Sunday and no places usually being open).
        Canyoning was one of the most amazing things I have ever done. Apparently canyoning in Dominica is on National Geographic’s top 20 things to do in the world and I totally see why. We did it through this company called Extreme Dominica (definitely recommend them if my entry is enough to convince you to book a trip to Dominica). The tour begins at their headquarters that sit up some winding roads with spectacular views, at this treehouse-type dwelling called Cocoa Cottage. It’s called ‘cocoa’ for a reason. They make their own chocolate. I spent $10 for a small bag of chocolate with coconut shavings on top but it was worth every dollar. It literally was the richest, creamiest, most flavorful chocolate I have ever tasted. I wish I could have brought some back to the ship with me but it melted in the carribbean sun almost instantly.
        The cottage was storybook. It was built into the mountain. The entire back wall of the house just didn’t exist, completely open to nature. There was a little walkway just outside the open side of the house and beyond was a pretty good sized drop to the next landing in the mountain. I’d like to thing the dense jungle would ease the fall a little bit.
        Our training session for a bunch of first-time canyoners consisted of repelling down this 8-foot ledge next to the cottage. Hardly a taste of what was to come. When we were all deemed ‘trained,’ we loaded ourselves back into the vans that took us 2000 meters above sea level to begin the repel. The first repel was a good 30 feet tall, complete with gushing waterfall. It was amazing being completely surrounded by moss-covered canyon walls and the sky peeking through the trees way up above us.  The key to canyoning is trusting the ropes and the guys at both ends of the ropes. You literally approach the cliff backward, grip the rope and throw all your weight into the little diaper-like thing that holds the caribiner (sp?) attached to the rope as you descend, like you’re sitting in a chair whose legs are attached to the wall. One minute your standing vertical, the next your staring at the sky as water rushes down on all sides. We were able to repel at 6 different sites until we finally descended the entire stretch of canyons. Then, to all of our surprise (it shouldn’t have been but it was) we had to hike back up the mountain. What a workout!  Along the way we snagged a grapefruit off of a tree and passed it along, each of us taking a wedge. We also tasted these coffee berries. They sort of look like cherries but inside there are two coffee beans that you’re supposed to suck the sweet covering off of. Dominica is known for its coffee. I bought a café mocha at one of the downtown cafes. Delicious!
Back at cocoa cottage, there were hummus and cucumber sandwiches and fresh papaya juice waiting for us. I’m not really a fan of hummus but the ingredients were so fresh that I actually enjoyed it. What a change from the processed junk they serve on the ship. We also were able to taste a cocoa bean. It pretty much tasted like the darkest chocolate you can imagine.
        This all happened on Sunday. So when we were dropped back off at sea level, the town was dead. Channel the movie 2012 now. No one was out. The only sign of life all day was the sound of the church choir as we waited for the vans to cocoa cottage. Nonetheless, one of the guides from our tour had a brother who owned one of the local bars. We let him know there were about 600 college kids in town looking for something to do that night, he made a call, and our plans were made. We even started a chain reaction. A few other bars opened up shop as well. The most memorable moment of the night was dancing at one of the bars, named RJ’s, and looking up to find no ceiling. Just stars and the moon until suddenly those skies clouded up and let loose a downpour. I was completely soaked.
        Day 2 began with a snorkeling trip to Champagne Reef and Souffriere Preserve. I’ve only been snorkeling a few times and haven’t been a huge fan of it but now I get it. I get why snorkeling has such a following. The number of different fish and coral that I saw was innumerable. My favorite was the spotlight parrot fish. Look it up. It literally glowed an omniscient blue in the water. The crazy thing was, this snorkeling trip was a field trip for one of my classes. At one point, as I was slipping on my flipper, I had to stop and ask the girl next to me, “Am I really at school right now?”  That is one question that has already been asked many, many times in the five days we’ve been out to sea and in port. It’s just so entirely unbelievable. Thank god out of all of the many activities I could have signed up for on this day, I was snorkeling, an activity that worked rain or shine. This day brought rain, waves of intense downpours that at one point made me question whether rain or sleet was falling on me. We would see the next band of rain off in the distance as the once-clearly visible mountains became hazy and then 5 minutes later we would be drenched. The first snorkeling site was called Champagne because little pockets of hot water flowed out of the ocean floor and bubbled to the surface. It looked like I was swimming in a glass of champagne. The second site, Souffriere was even better. The diversity of the fish and the coral was better and we were right near the location where the Pirates of the Caribbean films were shot. If it hadn’t of rained, we would have missed out on the multiple double rainbows that kept popping up all day long. I have about 50 pictures of rainbows beginning in the misty mountains and ending in the open ocean. It never got old.
        I could write a book on my two days in Dominica. I can’t even imagine how I am going to capture the week-long port stays in one entry. Moral of the story: Go canyoning, have a city open up their closed shops just for you, taste a freshly picked grapefruit, snorkel through a coral reef that bubbles like a glass of champagne, wander through the streets of the friendliest town on earth, and experience multiple double rainbows in one day. A.K.A. Go to Dominica. Or if money’s an issue just wait until I move here someday and crash in my tree house. And I will move here one day. I’ve fallen in love with this place.