TIA (This is Africa)

September 29, 2011

*Remember the scrambled eggs, they’re important!

South Africa is a beautiful place. Our boat pulled into port and we were all greeted by green mountains, cobble stone sidewalks, and a giant Ferris wheel.  We all had smiles on our faces as we started walking around on the first day, partly because it was a huge relief to get off the monotonous space of the ship, and partly because we felt a bit like we were back in the US on a beach vacation. I spent the first day window shopping in the giant mall (just because I’m in South Africa doesn’t mean I can suddenly afford a $400 purse) and being a glutton. I’d almost forgotten how much I liked sushi until I got to this port and ordered it four times over the course of six days. I wasn’t exactly stingy when it came to wine drinking either. A lot of students went on safaris, which all sounded incredible, but they were all pretty expensive and there is so much to do in South Africa that I decided against it. Besides, I don’t mind having an excuse to come back to Africa in the future.

Day Two: I grabbed a taxi with four other people and we jammed into the backseat of the cab. We managed not to entirely crush each other on the 40 minute drive to Simons Town. We happily hopped out, stretched, and walked down to the board walk where we got to watch all the penguins living their lives right next to us on the beach. These were clearly warm weather penguins because it’s spring time here and all of the birds were molting their winter feathers. There are sun loving penguins, who knew? They also happened to be smelly and sounded like donkeys when they cawed…so I was pretty much in love with them. After we saw the penguins, we walked around the National Park and found a beach that looked like it was supposed to be closed only the gate was wide open baring the sign “No Entry.” We decided we weren’t entering the park, we were exiting the public land and therefore I remain a rule abiding, standup citizen.  The beach was covered in huge rocks that we climbed around on and explored the little caves that had been eroded away by the sea water. We then had a seaweed war where we all covered ourselves in seaweed battle garb and threw chunks of it at each other. I used to have the occasional rock war when I was younger so I think a seaweed war demonstrates a mature and responsible step forward. All in all it was a great day.

Day Three: Tori, Hillary, and I ran into two guys who wanted to go to the same vineyard as we did when we left the ship so we joined forces and shared a cab. At Spier Vineyard we all got to try five different wines for about four dollars. I’ve never done a real wine tasting before and I didn’t know it’d be so much fun! I loved getting to try the distinctly different flavors, one after another, and compare them to the descriptions on the menu. I now know what a “light with hints of asparagus and oak and a mouthwatering finish” wine tastes like. I wasn’t a huge fan. I know I told Mom that I’d send her a case of wine home, but apparently it’s easy to get almost any South African wine in the states and it ends up being much less expensive than shipping it…plus I have no idea what you might like, Mom, so ask Ann Coppinger and I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to hook you up J When we were done with our wine tasting we headed right over to the other side of the vineyard where they had a cheetah sanctuary. We got to meet Jasper, the very same cheetah that David Hasslehauff got to pet last week. Apparently Justin Bieber met him too and people were complaining that he didn’t get eaten. It’s okay Justin, you know that you’re my one love. Getting to pet a huge cat while it purred was incredible. It sounded just like a house cat only louder and it made the ground underneath it vibrate slightly. I wanted to take it home but it wouldn’t stay still long enough for me to convince the ship security that it was a stuffed animal.

The cab ride between the port and the vineyard was probably one of my most interesting experiences in South Africa. All we had to do was drive five minutes outside of the main downtown area before we saw a big wall and then rows and rows of shacks. These shacks were the townships. Apartheid may have ended in 1994 but all the Black and Colored (mixed blood) people live in separate townships. Most of the houses in the townships were made from tin or scrap metal and they were packed so close together that the living conditions looked worse than those in Ghana. The huge economic disparities in South Africa also explain the extremely high crime rate. Pick pocketing and ATM scams happen constantly. The world cup advertised the country as “The Rainbow Nation,” but the separation and racism of the people is blatant. South Africa is also the country with the number one highest rape rate in the world and one out of every four adults from 15 - 45 is HIV positive.  Our cab driver described how he didn’t like the president because he was not only a polygamist, but he raped a young girl and showed no remorse about it. On top of the rape, when he was asked if he was worried about the spread of HIV he said “No, I’ll just take a shower.” This was alarming to me because in Global Studies we’d just been told that, despite the president’s faults, he was the first leader in South Africa to acknowledge the HIV problem and actively take preventative measures. Clearly his political action doesn’t necessarily match up with his personal beliefs. What was fascinating to me was, right after our driver finished telling us this, he said, “I don’t like American men because they don’t respect women.” He was from a Colored township and his father had married seven different women. He had 80 siblings and half sibling all together. Let me repeat that, 80 siblings! But his attitude towards American men was that he didn’t understand how they could marry a woman and then just divorce her. I tried to explain that not all American men were terrible and often divorces happen because people rush into marriages. He replied, “If you rush into a marriage with me, in six months you’ll never want to leave South Africa. I know how to give a woman a foot massage.” Somehow I wasn’t entirely convinced.

Day Four: I woke up bright and early ready to go hiking…to find friends who were not up quite so early nor feeling quite as bright. Eventually I used my incessant peppiness to coax them off the ship and over to the Table Mountain trail head. Table Mountain is the giant mountain that looks over all of Cape Town and I was not about to leave port without concurring it. I won’t lie, looking to the top from the trail head was pretty intimidating, but the actual hike was beautiful, green, and cool. I had been warned that it was an extremely difficult trail but I think it’s clear no one is as avid a hiker as I am. I thought it felt just like Mount Sanitas only a mile or so longer. I had to deal with some whining and long break times from the peanut gallery but by the time we finished we were all happy and proud of ourselves. The top of the mountain was inside a cloud so everything felt slightly surreal. Actually getting out of the city and being in nature was something I was missing more than I realized. We ate lunch up at the top and then spent the afternoon at the aquarium. The aquarium wasn’t as big as I thought it might be, but I did learn that the only part of an octopus that can’t squish is its eyeball because they have eyes just like humans. This means that an octopus can fit through anything as long as it’s big enough for its eyes to fit. There was also a large tank with several rays, fish, and a couple sharks. The aquarium keeps the sharks very well fed so they allow people to scuba dive in the tank and we got to see a person swimming around with all the animals. For dinner, we found a restaurant that made gluten free pizza! You guys may not find this that exciting but it was definitely a highlight of the trip for me.

Day Five: Waking up for cage diving with the great whites was obscene. I rolled out of bed at 3:45am and was not nearly as bright as I’d been the day before. I felt much more like a dull brown or grey shade actually. Despite my cranky brow, I managed to get to the van where my friends cheered me up. Four out of our crew of seven had decided to stay out all night instead of going to bed and entertained us tired folk with their drunkenness. It was around 6:30 by the time we got to Gansbaai, South Africa: the great white shark capital of the world! We went into a little room where they served us breakfast and coffee. I got to look around the walls at all the celebrities who had dived with the same company. Apparently I was in the same boat as Brad Pitt, Matt Damon, Halle Barry, and Blake Lively. I really hope that I got to wear the same wet suite as Halle Barry. Then I could make all the men of the world jealous by telling them I’d been in her pants. The boat we went on had just enough sitting room for the twelve or so people we went out with. The ocean was rough and whadaya know; Kelly gets sea sick! Luckily, half of the people I was with were just getting their hangovers so I was in good company as I puked off the side of the boat. See, I told you the eggs were important because I BROUGHT THEM BACK UP! Haha sorry for the graphics but I’ve been itching to use that pun since I first thought of it. At one point there was four of us all vomiting together. I told my friend Douggan that there’s no bonding together like voming together. We were all troupers though and we managed to pull ourselves together, throw on our goggles and wet suites, and jump in a cage. The crew baited the sharks by throwing out tuna bits mixed with salt water in order to spread the smell. When they saw a shark come close they’d throw out a large chunk of tuna and pull it close to the cage so that the shark would follow. When it was close they’d yell “Down!” and we’d all drop to the bottom of the cage and watch the sharks as they swam by. When we couldn’t see them anymore we’d pull ourselves back up to the surface. I was a little nervous getting to the top of the cage because I’d have to kick and I felt my foot leave the cage a couple times. No shark felt the need to eat my leg though so it’s okay, I will return home with all appendages fully intact. The great whites were beautiful, graceful, and not actually that scary. At one point my nose was five inches away from a shark nose; we gazed into each others’ eyes and had a moment. Our guide told us that most shark attacks are actually from bull sharks and that there’s estimated only 10,000 great whites left in the world and they’re getting killed off every day. Boo, save the sharks! I may or may not have had gluten free pizza for dinner at the same restaurant that night. Don’t judge.

Day Six:  CJ, Allison and I grabbed our towels and headed for Clifton beach to spend our last day in port tanning, reading, and relaxing. This felt like almost any vacation day, but there were a few things that reminded us we were still distinctly in South Africa. I was woken up from my sunny slumber by a woman who put a paper in front of my face and asked me to donate money to an orphanage for AIDS babies. She also warned us about the vendors walking by selling sunglasses and trinkets because apparently most of them are thieves. On the plus side, as we left the beach we saw a breaching whale way out on the ocean, and on the dock right next to the ship we found a seal just chilling out and catching a few rays. Everyone has been sad that we had to leave South Africa so soon. There’s so much to do! I wanted to tour Robin Island and see Nelson Mandela’s prison cell but all of the tours were completely booked. Luckily, before the ship set sail, Archbishop Desmond Tutu came aboard and spoke to us for about an hour. He’s sailed on Semester at Sea in the past and he must be a wonderful man to get to know because his energy is contagious. He reminded me a bit of Rafiki from the Lion King because he’d say something extremely wise and then he’d burst out into a crazed laughter. His basic message was that none of us can be completely self sufficient and that to be human is to need and be needed by others. I wanted to stow him away in my cabin along with the cheetah so that I could take him with me everywhere. On second thought, I might have to separate him from the cheetah; just because Jasper didn’t eat Justin Bieber doesn’t mean I want to risk opening my closet door to Desmond Tutu’s disembodied arm. If only the ship had a bit more room for stowaways! Now we’re back to the ship and sailing towards Mauritius. Until next time, may the force be with you.   

What You Ghana Do?

September 16, 2011

“To my mind, the greatest reward and luxury of travel is to be able to experience everyday things as if for the first time, to be in a position in which almost nothing is so familiar it is taken for granted.” – Bill Bryson

A very brief background of Ghana: Ghana is one of the most successful countries in West Africa due to its trade in cocoa beans and gold. The national language is English though the people speak many different African languages, and it was one of the main countries that participated in the slave trade while under European control. And now for my adventures!

Day One: We pulled into port and I awoke to the sound of African drums right outside my cabin window. It was 6am and I figured they’d have to stop eventually…and they did, at nine. It’s okay, everyone keeps telling me sleep is overrated.

The ship docked in Tema which is a commercial district in Ghana, and the capital is Accra…as one of our professors elegantly put it, “Tema is to Newark as Accra is to Manhattan.” so the second my friends and I could get a hold of our passports we jumped on a shuttle to Accra. Our final destination was Kekum National Park where we wanted to do a canopy walk through the forest. Our only problem was how to get there. The second we got off the bus in Accra there was a swarm of venders trying to sell us bracelets with our names on them and paintings they’d made.  All we wanted to do was catch a taxi to the nearest bus station, but as we were trying to hale two cabs (there were six of us) three of our members fell into the vendor trap.  The motto “It’s okay to say NO WAY!” takes on a whole new meaning. 

Eventually we jumped into cabs and headed off. Our driver wanted to pull into the closest bus station after about 15 minutes but the other cab kept on going. We didn’t want to get separated so we told our driver to follow the other car. Both drivers pulled halfway off the road and yelled at each other across cruising traffic. Eventually we followed the other car into a market full of used car parts. There was a hut for headlights, a hut for breaks, a hut for steering wheel covers, and so on. This may have just been my American interpretation but when I heard “used car parts market” I interpreted it as “stolen car parts market.” This made me extremely nervous when our driver threw the car into park in the middle of the road and got out to yell at the other car. People kept walking by and touching the windows. Eventually we DID get to a bus station…that had no busses going to Kekum. Luckily we found a trotro (a van that acts as a public bus) and convinced the driver to take us directly to the park for a little extra money. We were all relieved to get in and be on our way to the actual place we wanted to go. Three hours of driving followed, which meant the crossing of a whole lot of countryside. Ghana both was and wasn’t what I had expected. The women walked along the side of the road balancing huge buckets on their heads full of bananas, peanuts, and pretty much anything else you could imagine like DVDs or sticky notes. There was thick, green foliage everywhere interspersed with little villages full of goats, chickens, trash, kids running around in their school uniforms, and clothes lines. I thought I’d be able to sleep a bit on the car ride but boy was I wrong! The roads are mostly dirt and full of pot holes. We felt a bit like we were on a Disneyland adventure ride because we kept getting thrown back and forth across out seats or were sent flying a couple inches into the air. The non-disney part was to possibility of the car flipping…but the drivers seemed to know what they were doing. We were also sweating buckets because we were right next to the equator…Not that I sweat or anything.

After a long and interesting three hours, we pulled up to Kekum National Park at 4:15pm to find…they had closed the park at 3:30. This was not in the plan. Wiliamma, my plump and sweet Hawaiian friend was in the front seat on the verge of tears when they agreed to open the park up just for us for an hour. We got our own personal tour guide who took us up on the canopy walk way which consisted of ropes and wooden planks that had been stretched out over rickety ladders. As we all walked out onto the bridge, it started swinging back and forth and the planks tilted from side to side depending on what foot people were stepping with. Dad, this was not something I would recommend for you and your fear of hgihts. Eventually the fear subsided though, and we got a beautiful view of the rainforest canopy. Our guide said that they have a couple forest elephants (yes, there are forest elephants, who knew?) living in Kekum. She was from the village next to the park and, because the park had no fence, sometimes the elephants would leave the park and walk into the village causing general panic.

After our personal tour through the rainforest, we caught another cab to Cape Coast where we were planning to spend the night. In the morning we had plans to meet up with one of our professors who was leading a group through the castles and slave dungeons tour, so we found a hotel that looked directly out across a bridge to the first castle. They had scared us all about the food in Ghana, but we crossed our fingers, took our Pepto, and ordered. I ordered the coconut cream chicken. The sauce tasted great but the chicken was half gristle, my guess is it had recently been running around the nearby houses with the other chickens. Tory ordered Red on Red which is a traditional Ghanaian dish of rice, beans, and some spicy sauce. She let me try a bite and it was delicious. Moral of this story: always go with the traditional food!

There was loud music playing from somewhere close by so we went to explore. When we found it, it wasn’t a bar but a church gathering…we decided it might be a little rude to crash. It’s clear that Ghana has been hit hard by missionaries in the past because religion is huge here. Everyone has odd shop names like Lord God Hair Salon. My personal favorite was a bumper sticker telling everyone to “Clap politely for Jesus!” How does one clap politely exactly? What if I clap loudly, or quickly, does that count? In the absence of visible night life and the presence of getting stared at by every local we passed, we decided to head back to our hotel and play cards. The hotel was sweltering, but a breeze outside made the temperature bearable. We chose the smell of fish boats over unbearable discomfort and played outside on the deck for several hours. A couple of the local kids would stop and watch us over the fence, half hiding, and stared for an hour or so. We wanted to invite them in to join us, but the hotel security guard wouldn’t let us. It was strange being a spectacle when we felt like we were doing something so normal. Eventually it was bed time and I took a cold shower using a hand held sprayer, so that was fun, I’m pretty sure between the shivering and awkward crouching I managed to get most of the bug spray off of me. That night was a sleepless night. It was either one wild church party, or someone else picked up the music bug because the music outside our hotel and in the market played 24 hours a day. I also kept feeling itchy and paranoid about malaria…though I managed to escape Ghana without a single mosquito bite.

Day Two: I had a fried egg and three cups of instant coffee for breakfast before I started to feel a bit like a human being. We then watched out the window for giant tour busses full of white kids to pull up to the castle. The busses were two hours late, but we walked over to the castle and joined the tour group. The shift from walking around with six people to walking around with 50 is extremely blunt. We were instantly transformed from people to tourists with money. It turned out our professor’s group had made a change of plans last minute and ended up at a different castle. Oh well, we were fine touring along with this group instead.

Looking at the slave dungeons was both powerful and sad. 1,000 people were kept in the dungeons at a time while waiting for the boats to take them to the Americas. People were shoved into small rooms and chained together. They were only given a bucket to relieve themselves in, and because many people spoke different languages, they couldn’t always communicate when they needed it, or people would be too weak to move. As a result, people would be forced to go on the floor where they all slept and ate. They were barely given enough food to sustain themselves, and anyone who caused trouble would be chained to a cannonball outside to suffer through the elements for several days where everyone could see them. Between these slave dungeons and the transport boats, over 48,000 people died. This is just a bit of the dark history of our country that should be remembered and never repeated.  

At lunch we met up with the group we were actually meant to be with and calmed down our professor who had been worrying away all morning. We ate and got on the bus which took us right back to the castle we’d just seen with the other tour group. Instead of going through it again, we decided to explore Cape Coast. We walked around the beach for a bit but there was a lot of human feces (oh Ghana) in the sand so we decided it might be safer to head to the market. The market was bright and colorful and way more fun that the one in Marrakech had been. They played music (still) and most of the people left us alone apart from some curious looks. We found ourselves in a small area with a bunch of houses and people going about their lives. A baby boy who looked about two saw me from his doorway. His mother motioned me over because he had never seen a white person before. I smiled at him and he burst into tears, then ran inside and refused to come out. I’m used to my smile having this effect on men, but not until they get a little older hehe, just playing. We walked past some men hand making the fishing boats and stopped to talk to them. I asked them how long it took them to make a boat and they said two days. I was impressed but they corrected me and told me “that’s not very fast.” They also told Wiliamma that he could not live in Ghana because he would be deported; he was too much man and would eat all the food. Poor kid! They were being pretty funny though, they also told me I could stay because they liked my hair. We left the men to their work and joined the kids in a game of soccer. By ‘joined’ I mean I kicked the ball once and then watched them run circles around me. When they notice we had cameras they went nuts and all piled in for pictures. Most of them made goofy faces and struck break dancing poses. Quite a few children were playing soccer, but once all the kids saw we were taking pictures they came running in from dark cracks all over the village. One girl looked about seven and was completely naked, jumping up and down with the rest of us. All of them were very shy at first but then got super excited and their energy was contagious. We were barely able to get away when we had to meet back up with our group and head back to the boat.

Day Three: On the third day I’d signed up to work for Habitat for Humanity. We got on the bus at 7 and drove 3 and 1/2 hours, Disneyland adventure bump style, to a remote village of 500 people. Once we got to the site, we broke up into three groups of ten people and were all assigned different tasks. My group was given the task of making bricks. We only had one brick mold, two shovels, and a pick between the ten of us. Our supervisor taught us how to mix the sand we dug up with the bags of cement and turn it until it was the right consistency. We then added water and shoveled it into the brick mold where we padded it down with shovels. None of us were very good at this step. Holly was the best at it, we decided it was due to her women’s tennis grunts, but even still, after almost every brick we made, the supervisor would push his way in between us and finish the brick off for himself. All in all, brick making was fun, it felt like making an elaborate sand castle. Because we had so few tools, we did our best to rotate in and out and a couple of us found large sticks to help with the mixing process. Even still, we had some down time when we weren’t working and got to play with the kids in the village. They started by having us hold a stick in the air and they jumped over it as high as they could. We then taught them all how to limbo. Eventually they got bored of limbo and went off to find their own sticks. When they got back they started pole vaulting! The boys were so athletic that they threw themselves over our heads and still kept on telling us to raise the bar higher. There were a couple wipeouts where I was convinced someone was going to die, but everyone got away with bruises and their lives. We also had fun trying to walk around with bottles of water on our heads (the locals were much better at it than we were even though they were only seven) and dancing to music we played on our phones. Even with all this playing, we made about 70 bricks in the three hours we had to work there. Our supervisor said that a house takes about 2,000 bricks, so we at least made a dent in the work; I just wish we could have stayed longer and done more. I was wearing my Ninja Turtles T-shirt and the older kids had seen the show so we ran around playing ninja turtles and dueling with sticks. They also liked to play “let’s bug the people while they’re working” and kept sneaking up behind us and tickling our knees when we were carrying heavy things. Overall I had a great time. I wondered how the children had watched TV though; the people in the village were living off less than two dollars a day and mainly ate rice and whatever their animals could provide…I doubt many of those Habitat houses came built ready with a television included.

The bus ride back home was long and we were all tired when we got back, but I pulled through and got ready to go out, after all, it WAS our last night in Ghana. There was a huge SAS party in Accra but a couple of us couldn’t handle the thought of getting on a shuttle for another two hours. Instead we went out to the Ocean Bar in Tema. There were some other SASers there at the start, but they left pretty early so it was just four of us in a bar full of locals. We stuck out like…well…white people. At first people seemed a little wary of us while we played pool, but after we joined in with the dance party everyone was just having a good time. One guy kept trying to buy me a drink and I kept on yelling “No beer!” over the music. He interpreted this as “I wanted something non-alcoholic” and bought me a malt beverage instead. *sigh* I love insulting people because of my food allergies. Everyone here is obsessed with the song “Live Your Life.” At the bar, they had it on repeat and it played five times in a row. My friend Michael said a man he was traveling with around the Cape Coast made him listen to it at least fifteen times. Haha, it will definitely need to be added to my iPod. When we were getting back on the boat we saw a kid who was so drunk that he’d managed to lose both his shirt and his ability to stand up by himself. He was arguing with the security people because they wouldn’t let him on the ship without his key card. He then found the key card, held it up in victory, and promptly dropped it into the ocean…Oops. He’ll regret that one tomorrow.

Day Four: I spent the last day in Accra with my roommate and a couple other girls. We went shopping at the market and bought some wonderful things including a birthday present for Lindsay that she will get very belatedly. I’m sure it’s not as good as what Leah got her though :p. I am becoming an expert bargainer. It’s hard to get passed the vendor’s pushiness, but I felt like I was doing much better and actually getting to have some real conversations with the vendors. A man named Poe was talking about how Americans often seem rude but he liked us because we were nice. I explained to him how shopping is very different in the US and how we get overwhelmed and he left me with the pearl of wisdom, “No one can ever MAKE you buy anything.” Too true, Poe, too true.

The ship left yesterday afternoon and we all got settled in again. It is strange how the ship can be floating right off the coast of a country, but feel like an entirely separate world.  It’s a world where I can drink the water whenever I want to, brush my teeth using the sink, eat raw vegetables without being afraid of getting sick, and not have to smell pollution or watch people publicly urinate. In Ghana I felt a bit like royalty just because I was always able to drink bottled water and pay for comfortable transportation, the boat feels even more privileged. I can already tell that getting home is going to feel different…I also plan on eating a giant bowl of gluten free pasta with a side of gluten free pizza for my first meal back.

NEPTUNE DAY: Today was Neptune day! Neptune day is the day the boat crosses the equator for the first time. The crew woke us up by blowing whistles, shouting, and banging on pots and pans. I took a bit longer than the others to pull myself out of bed, but when I got up to the seventh deck everyone was dancing and several people were shaving their heads. Apparently hair is Neptune’s favorite sacrifice. A ton of students are walking around the ship bald now, including several of the girls; they have WAY more nerve than I do. We have a theory that all the girls with shaved heads will be starting an “I’m bald” support group before the journey’s over. I slept through kissing a fish and getting covered in slime, but I didn’t miss the giant dance party. I also got to see Captain Jeremy in a sarong painted entirely green. All in all it was a great way to start the day. Unfortunately, no one had warned us that today was a party day. They were sneaky and wrote ‘study day’ on the schedule. I had gotten all excited about having an entire day to sleep in and catch up on homework; instead I got woken up early and will now have to struggle to do work while everyone is distracted and having fun. Don’t other people on this ship take classes too? It certainly doesn’t feel like it. Still, I’ve yet to wake up to any giant dance/pool parties on CU campus so who am I to complain?       

Morocco

September 9, 2011

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      Feel free to read this post in steps or when you have a lot of time because, well, it’s really long. Sorry.

Land ho! Welcome to Morocco, the boarder land between Europe and North Africa. Who knew such different cultures like the French and the Middle East could create such an effective and exciting hybrid. Our boat pulled into port around 8am and I had no time to appreciate being on land before I was shuffled directly off the ship and onto a bus. We then proceeded to drive three hours up to Marrakech. I spent the time chatting to my brand new friend Tory and looking out the window trying to absorb as much Morocco as I could. We passed big cities, building projects, and wide open farm land full of sheep. On the one hand it was hard for me to see all the trash and plastic bags caught in the brambles across every farm, but at the same time these people used cactus fences. All they have to do is cut off a leaf, bury it, water it, and when it grows they have an instant and free new fence. It’s such a simple and useful idea that I’m a little shocked I’ve never heard of anyone doing it before!  

The bus stopped about twenty minutes outside of Marrakech and we again were shuffled right from one form of transportation to another.  I got off the bus and onto a camel! Camels are smelly, stubborn, and wonderful creatures. They’re legs are about twice as long as they should be and when they lie down their legs fold up about three times directly under them in an awkward display of ‘that can’t be comfortable’. Once we all got onto our camels and started walking, the animal right behind me immediately started chewing on my pants. Maybe it was more of a light nibble than a chew, but my leg had saliva all over it so I think I officially get to say I was spit on by a camel.  Our guide was young and looked quiet and stern at first, but once he discovered that a couple people in our group spoke broken French he kept on running up and down the camel line telling us the names of our camels and singing Black Eyed Peas songs. “My Humps” seemed to be one of his personal favorites. I asked him how to say hello in Arabic and he yelled, “SHALAM! Morning, noon, and night, shalam, shalam, shalam.” He said it so many times that I think it’s the only Arabic word I was consistently able to remember. About half way through our camel ride, Tory’s camel got antsy and decided to break away from the group. Mine was right behind her’s and adopted the same rebellious notions. Our two camels started to run off into the desert. You know how I was taking about their awkwardness?  Well running camels shouldn’t head for ditches, which both of ours did, and they tripped while Tory and I were along for the ride with white knuckles death gripping our saddles. When the animals stood up, a bunch of little kids who’d been playing nearby saw us and started running at our camels and shouting in Arabic with rocks in their hands, urging them on. Luckily the creatures didn’t pay any attention and started eating the tree in front of them so our guide retrieved us and lead us back to the group. Speaking of eating, Moroccan’s and I definitely speak the same language on one front…FOOD! The food was delicious; everything I ate was colorful and packed with flavor. I did feel a bit left out of the French pastry course L but I was able to eat almost everything in the five other courses so I can’t complain too much. Just like in France, Moroccans like to take hours for each meal. The last course is always a traditional mint tea which I was obsessed with. I think I had at least two glasses every day and I bought some to bring home, you won’t understand until you try it. It’s mixed with green tea which also means it has caffeine, an added and much appreciated bonus.

After we got off our camels alive, we headed into the heart of Marrakech and checked into our hotel.  All of the buildings in Marrakech are pink which makes even the dirty parts of the city look quaint. He had dinner and got settled in and a group of us set out to find a hooka bar. I realize smoking is very bad for me and so on, but what could be more Moroccan than hookas? They sell them about every three shops and most of them are as tall as I am. We asked the woman at the hotel’s front desk where the nearest one was and she had no idea what we were talking about. We kept on trying to outline a hooka shape and act like we werere smoking but I’m pretty sure she just thought we were crazy. Eventually a man nearby saw us and asked “sheesha?” We all got very excited and jumped up and down and nodded vigorously. The woman at the front desk did not look impressed.

We got directions, and on our way to the hooka bar we passed a wedding with two men, covered in bright beaded clothing, sitting on horses and armed with shot guns at the door. Inside was a whirl of colors and music and everyone was in their formal dress. I officially decided that I want armed guards on horses at the gates of my wedding too! Write that one down Mom. The hooka bar was great because it was obviously a local place. People sat around tables in twos and threes and sipped on their hookas like it was dessert while watching bad documentaries on Arabic pop stars. We also ordered cocktails to go with our sheesha and I’m not quite sure if cocktail meant a mixture of juices or if it was an alcoholic beverage. None of us could tell…one of those unsolved mysteries. Whatever we were drinking, it tasted great!

                                                  Our awesome guide

On the morning of day two we were up bright and early and taken on a tour of tombs, palaces, and mosques around Marrakech.  It is outlawed for non-Muslims to enter the mosques in Morocco because, during the French occupation, the French would get drunk, enter the mosques, and cause general chaos such as urination and thumb biting. How rude. We DID get to see the inside of the tombs and palaces however. They were beautiful and covered in mosaics and carvings. Islam forbids trying to copy God’s work (aka drawing pictures of humans and animals) so everything was entirely decorated with flowers, patterns, and Arabic poetry carved into the walls. My favorite room in the palace was the wives’ room. It has
Posing in the wives' room


always 
been the law in Morocco that you can have no more than four wives. They all have to have an equal amount of space and belongings and none of them can get preferential treatment. If the king brings one wife a ring, he must bring the other three a ring as well. If the king sleeps with one woman well…I hope he has a lot of energy. If any of the women felt that they were not receiving equal treatment they could report it to their sponsor and get a divorce. Now-a-days polygamy is still technically legal but it can only be done with the wives’ permission (imagine that) and is rarely ever done. That afternoon we were taken to a natural healing store where they described to us the healing qualities of several plants and spices and demonstrated how they made certain things. They had oils for warding off mosquitoes, lipstick made from poppy seeds, anti-wrinkle lotions, and aphrodisiac teas.  I guess that explains how the king could keep up with his responsibilities. They also served us mint tea, which I needed because it has caffeine and I was running on four hours of sleep. I almost forgot! I had so little sleep because the walls of the hotel were very thin and I could hear everything. I kept on thinking the girl I was rooming with was about to come in but she didn’t get back to the hotel until 4am where she proceeded to drop things, stumble, and possibly fall in the shower from the sound of it. When she actually got into bed she kept on rolling around furiously and making loud sighing noises that occasionally sounded like gagging. I kept on asking her if she was okay and she’d sit bolt upright and ask “Are you okay?” Yes, I was fine, just really freaking tired. Oh the joys of living with strangers.

In the afternoon we went to the market and everything was completely overwhelming. Depending on what block I was standing on, I was either intoxicated with delicious smells of saffron or lavender, or gagging from the smell of urine. It was impossible for me to look at anything without someone running up to me and naming a price. People would grab my arm and drag me into their stores, and if I ignored them when they spoke to me they would try saying the same think in about five other languages. The shops went on in an endless maze of person after person trying to grab my attention and demanding I look at what they had to sell. By the end of the day I was so exhausted and over stimulated that anyone approaching me got a death glare, friends included. On the plus side, I got to bargain for the first time! Everyone was nervous about bargaining but I thought it was fun. It’s part of the culture. They suggest something ridiculously high and you say something ridiculously low and you keep going until you meet in the middle and both leave happy. The main square was full of juice vendors, snake charmers, and men with monkeys. My friend Michael got persuaded into taking a picture with one of the monkeys and when it climbed onto his shoulders, another man noticed and came over and put HIS monkey on Michael’s arm. Michael was uncomfortable and couldn’t move when the second monkey started peeing off of him. He then had to pay the monkey men like two dollars for the picture. It was hilarious to watch from a distance and I think he likes the story he now gets to tell but he didn’t look so happy at the time.  After the monkey picture we all needed to sit down so we went to a café and I ordered mint tea and ice cream. Sanity was partially regained. That night, a lot of people were going out to Posha, the biggest night club in Africa, but the cover charge was pretty outrageous so a couple other people and I hung out at the hotel bar and chatted by the pool. The bar was dark and a band played live, traditional Moroccan music while a lot of stern looking men hung around and didn’t talk to each other. Moroccan people all look so serious all the time, but when you talk to them they are extremely helpful and friendly. This leads me to my favorite story of the trip which I will tell soon.

We left Marrakech early the next morning and got into Casablanca around noon. Casablanca is a big city with an entirely different vibe to it than Marrakech. It feels a lot like any big city really, only slightly poorer.  We spent the afternoon searching for Rick’s Café (from the movie Casablanca if you haven’t seen it) and walking our way over to the Hassan II Masque which happens to be the third largest mosque in the world. It was beautiful and huge and we got to hear them announce the call to prayer through megaphones out of the uppermost windows. the sound was very powerful and traveled for miles. I don’t know if this is true for all mosques, but one of the ones we saw didn’t have any stairs, only ramps. This was for the benefit of the old men who lead call to prayer. Ramps allowed them to ride donkeys all the way to the top of the buildings where their voices would carry the most.

                                                      Hassan II mosque

That evening we were done being tourists and wanted to be Americans so we went on a mission for an internet café. Here’s my favorite story:

We were lost and as far as we could tell, street signs didn’t exist in Casablanca. Eventually we passed a sign that said something about ‘tourista’ and asked the man standing in front of the building if he knew where we should go. Every one of us spoke English and Spanish which did us absolutely no good. We listened to his Arabic-French as closely as possible and followed his pointing fingers as best we could. These directions, not so surprisingly, lead us to a sketchy bar and a dead end. We sighed and turned around and walked back to the road where, all of the sudden, two mopeds pulled to a stop in front of us and the men started talking to us in Arabic while motioning a police officer over.

We thought we might have done something terribly wrong and were getting arrested until one of the men on the mopeds managed to communicate that he’d overheard we were lost. A man in a Maui shirt walked passed and they immediately called him over in hopes he spoke English. We now had four men and a police officer all trying to help us find an internet café. The Maui shirted man looked like he understood where we wanted to go and told the moped men how to get there in rapid Arabic. The police officer then pointed to the two men and said, “private protectors.” We nodded and followed as they pulled their bikes into moving traffic and stopped it for us so that we could pass safely. We all were very grateful, the honking cars stopped in the middle of the road felt otherwise. One man then road right ahead of us, leading the way, and the other road behind our walking group and kept an eye on us. These men stuck with us for the fifteen minute walk to our destination, where we found yet another sketchy bar. We all started laughing. They had taken the time to stop traffic for us and escort us all the way to the wrong place. We thanked them profusely anyways and when we trying to tip them they refused. I have never had anyone in the United States try to be that helpful when I was lost, and let’s face it, I get lost a lot. We didn’t find the internet but we DID find a restaurant next door with rotisserie chickens cooking right on the sidewalk. We sat down and ate a delicious meal of chicken, rice, olives, and French fries for about $3 each.

Our last day was very mellow. We slept in a little and then went out and looked around the shops. It was just me, Tory, and two other girls so we didn’t have any male body guards but I was surprised by how comfortable it was. We definitely got some cat calls but they were in another language so we had no way of being offended by anything. Honestly, the French men are much worse. I remember having to sprint away from a man in Paris who proposed and insisted that he loved me. We then ate a famous two hour lunch, finishing it with mint tea of course, and found a hotel with a bar and wifi. The four of us split a bottle of wine and checked back in with the rest of the world…and then it was time to get back to the ship! Basically Morocco was surprising and incredible, at least for me. Apparently four students have elected to go home and three have already gotten kicked off the boat! We’re dropping like flies. Oops, I shouldn’t have said anything; I might get busted by the rumor ranger. Seriously, they have a rumor ranger. Now we’re back on the water and headed for Ghana – the saga continues.  

P.S. I’d love to hear from all my friends back home! Shoot me an e-mail at kmwelsh@semesteratsea.net

Smells Like Ship

September 1, 2011

UBUNTU: I am because you are, you are because I am. We are inextricably caught up in each other’s lives.

            

 Life on ship is both exciting and very strange. The only thing I’ve seen outside of my cabin window over the last five days has been ocean. My poor roommate has to keep a log of what the ocean looks like every day for her Marine Biology class and she’s not allowed to use the words big or blue. Ha, good luck with that.

           

It’s incredible how difficult it is to navigate the ship. All of the staircases look exactly the same, so I’ll think I’m walking up one staircase and then end up at the top of another. By now I know which decks the dining hall, classrooms, gym, and pool are on, but passage through a deck is often cut off by a solid wall that forces me to walk back downstairs to find a way through. We’re always being told by “The Voice” over the intercom to meet on this or that deck on the starboard (right) or port (left) side. Memorizing starboard, port, bow, and stern would have been fine, but I continually get them mixed up because when I rowed crew I’d always face the back of the boat, so everything is opposite to me. Here’s the really tricky part: even when I know exactly where I’m going, I have to get there without falling into any walls, or people, or down the stairs. The boat rocks back and forth so much that it always feels like I’m walking up or downhill and it changes in an instant…and running on the treadmill was probably one of the most terrifying things I’ve ever done! I had to keep on jumping up on the sides of the machine because my feet wouldn’t land where I told them to. Even in art class today the door kept on opening into the hall and then slamming shut. A boat would be a great home for a poltergeist.    

                                                     Some people

Speaking of classes, they’re great! They’re very small and energetic and the professors have all traveled to a million different places. Living in the same place as your teachers adds an entirely new dynamic to the school vibe. On one hand it’s great because they’re always around to answer any questions or talk about the reading, and on the other hand I had my Global Studies professor laughing at me yesterday as I was trying to scrub the charcoal I managed to get everywhere off of the library table. Also, holly bajesus is doing homework hard! There are people everywhere, and by everywhere, I mean EVERYWHERE! They’re out tanning on the deck, studying in the library, in the dining hall, in the empty classrooms, in the bedrooms, and in the lounge chairs. Every time I think I’ve found a new quiet place to study I’m surrounded by ten students who swoop in and land menacingly, blocking out the light. We all start out with the good intentions of sitting there and studying quietly, but end up chatting animatedly about old jobs and this thing my dog did one time. As a result, doing homework has never been more fun because no one actually does it. If I’m not “reading” and tanning on deck, my homework has become a migratory act. I can sit and read for 10 to 15 minutes before needing to excuse myself from conversation and relocate. I’m not only battling my desire to socialize, but I’m battling the boat itself. Imagine: we’ve lost three hours in the last five days, a quiet reading corner, the soft and steady rocking of the boat…do you get the picture I’m painting? I think I’ve taken a nap every day we’ve been on board.

             

I’ve never been around such a friendly group of people. Everyone wants to know everyone. Maybe it’s just been too early for any drama, but so far it’s been great. I can walk into the dining hall and sit with almost any group of people and feel welcomed. There is an uneven ratio of 38% girls to 62% boys, which would be unfortunate if I was looking for my soul mate, but since this isn’t the 18^th century and that’s not my primary objective, I’m loving that it forces all of the girls to be nice to each other. Having the Life Long Learners (aka old people) has been great too because they’re all hilarious and full of stories. I met a man today whose nick name is Lion because he once beat up a cab driver for charging him too much. I also talked to Milt and Barbra over lunch yesterday, this is their 13^th voyage on SAS and they are on e-mailing terms with Desmond Tutu! Speaking of lunch, here goes my spiel on the food. It is all perfectly edible and none of it has any flavor whatsoever. Being celiac doesn’t help my variety, but I am already soooo sick of steamed vegetables and potatoes and it’s only the first week. I may have to start dousing everything in hot sauce.

             

Nights here have been fun. There are always large groups of people on the top deck playing cards. The boat also has several board games for rent so I dominated at Apple to Apples on Monday night, which also happened to be “pub night.” A lot of students are all in a huff because we are limited to three drinks a night and they’re not allowed to get sloshed and wake up with nasty, sea sick hangovers. Obviously the rule is there because some past students made some poor decisions, but I’m just happy I’m allowed to have a glass of wine without feeling like the authorities are about to swoop down, arrest me, and confiscate my family honor. Each night I have three options: sleep, homework, or play…so balancing everything is going to be a new challenge, but don’t worry Mom and Dad, I’ll pull through! Everyone’s starting to get really exciting about Morocco, just a few days away and approaching fast! Well I guess technically we’re approaching it, but pish posh with your technicalities. Okay I’m going to go play cards! Missing you all, but not too much hehe.