Rough Seas

September 7, 2005
At Sea

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

Classes started up again today, as does the beginning of drop/add. We each purchased the novel we are reading for Travelers’ Journals and are fully caught up, which of course means that we are ahead in our schoolwork.

Megan writes, “Today is drop/add day and there are no openings for the other class I wanted to sign up for. My wanting to enroll in another class is like a double-edged sword. I am perfectly content with the amount of work I have, reading and study time still seem a little stretched. I would have loved to have one more class though to transfer back to my home campus.”

The drop/add period is not going well and it does not seem like we are going to be able to add our fifth course. I am slightly disappointed, though it is no difficulty to take the course next semester at Maryland and still finish in two semesters. It feels very strange not to be taking an art history course, but I am enjoying the two anthropology courses very much and can’t wait to have another Travelers’ Journals class tomorrow.

In global studies we finished discussing Venezuela and moved to Latin America. All of our classes are going well, with the exception that our afternoon class was missing one very important person – the professor.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

Heather and I purchased a ship calling card tonight and at seven o’clock called home for the first time. I thought I would cry when I heard Mom and Dad’s voices, but I was able to talk fine. Mom even thought the reception was so clear that we might have been sitting in the very next room. Things sound good there, but it is difficult to get a lot said in thirteen minutes. I felt so energized after talking to them and my spirits were back up to their peak. I will call them once a week, regardless of cost.

Heather writes, “We got through on the first call and found it hard to believe that we were not sitting in the next room because the connection was so clear. It was so good to hear their voices and the surprise in moms when she answered the phone; I think I almost cried to hear how happy her voice sounded. It was funny that their meal was almost the exact same thing as ours and both neither very good. We actually got a little more than thirteen minutes from the card and were finished saying our goodbyes when it hung up. It left me happy the rest of the night and we were in bed at eight o’clock.”

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

The sea was rough and I walked in a wavy line all day. One of the questions I am supposed to answer is, “Do I let the steward make my bed everyday?” and the answer is no I do not. I make my bed everyday after waking up at six, it’s just a routine, and it adds a little structure to the day, which is always packed with new and unexpected things. I have noticed that the bed has been tucked a little tighter than I am capable of doing on a couple of occasions and think perhaps that is due to the fact that the linens were changed entirely, but I like to keep the room neat because I enjoy it so much and looking out the window.

September 8, 2005
At Sea

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

I am quickly finding out that there is less to say while you are at sea, for obvious reasons. Nevertheless it still feels good to jot down some thoughts.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

It is amazing how much I missed this ship during my stay in Venezuela. It felt so good to return to the Explorer and walk into the garden lounge for mealtime to the greetings from the dining room staff. There are so many very nice people on the ship and they enjoy trying to tell the difference between us. We met one of the history professors today and another member of the staff who had heard about us, and it was fun to chat for a while. Perhaps at some point in this voyage I won’t have to answer twin questions anymore but for now the attention is great.

Megan writes, “This morning an adult passenger stopped Heather and I on our way to breakfast. “The twins!” he exclaimed. “I heard about you.” Apparently a majority of people knows there are twins on board and he was wholly pleased to have finally met us. Our RD came to our table while we were eating lunch and said hello. It sounds as if he knew about our online weblog and will be checking it out. So hey, Mike, how are you?”

On our way back to our cabin from breakfast Dean Beverly stopped us and asked to take a picture. She is a very bubbly, cheerful person, and though we have not talked much up to this point I look forward to chatting more. She wanted to send our picture to her mom, who is also a twin, but unfortunately her camera battery was dead, and so we promised to run into each other again.

The noon report announced that we have traveled seven hundred fifty three miles from port and have two thousand fifty miles to the closest shoreline, Suriname. The seas are calm with swells less than one foot. Tonight marks the first of many clock changes and we have been instructed to set our clocks ahead one hour, so technically goodbye hour, it is gone.

Megan writes, “We have to set our clocks ahead one hour before bed, and I will have to remember before calling home next time to take this into consideration. I am anxious for dinner and curious as to the menu. Until then I will read and study for the Global Studies exam the day before we reach Brazil.”

We had a second great class in Travelers’ Journals sharing our stories from Venezuela and taking fifteen minutes near the end to write. We had to turn them in, but I was hesitant because I loved what I wrote so much that I wanted to include it in my journal. I will have to add it later.

Here is an exercise we worked on in Travelers’ Journals that I might use in some revised version for my first story:

I spent my time on Coche wondering what these people were like and how they live, and I can’t imagine a more poignant moment than standing atop the conch mounds overlooking the Caribbean sea, the cornflower blue of the clear sky melting into the liquid blue of the harbor. “This is their trash heap,” I thought, shells discarded from the oyster farm after extracting their worth. I climbed, huffing and puffing, right over left, over right to the tallest mound in sight, white barnacled shells crunching under foot. Then gingerly I stepped, almost fell into the nearest valley of empty shells whiter than white in the harsh afternoon sun of the tropics. I did not take a shell back to the rusty truck bed that carried me here, dust spiraling from the wheels, just the memory of shell mountains overlooking the sea. Our young guide placed a battered shell in my white palm, bumpy and hard, porous and rough. I turned it over slowly, peeking into the shiny encrusted center folded around a tiny iridescent lump, a pearl, still small, stunted by growth. It’s not my pearl, almost blue, but rather black instead, and not my shell. This is how they live, fishing and pearls. The mounds are their life, though it may be just a garbage dump to them. This priceless memento is perhaps the most symbolic of the people and this place.

The entire afternoon was free to read our novels on deck and study for our global studies exam in a couple of days. We have sailed past Guyana, Suriname, and French Guiana on our way to Brazil.

We finished off the day by reading in our cabin before setting the clock forward one hour, thus making bedtime nine o’clock.

September 9, 2005
At Sea

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

I wake up each morning around six o’clock and find myself turning on the television to channel two. The red line on the screen pinpoints our current path. It is nice to be able to see where we have been, as well as where we are going.

After breakfast I checked my email and weblog. Mom and Dad had left a comment on our newest posting and it is like receiving a present for no other reason but just because.

Heather writes, “Tomorrow we pass the equator, but we are not celebrating Neptune’s Day. Apparently the Deans are on very friendly terms with King Neptune and decided to move the festivities to September twentieth due in part to the upcoming exam in Global Studies on the twelfth. Thus we will still be pollywogs, I think.”

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

The sea has been quite rough today, probably the worst in terms of swells, which were about five feet. You can see white tufts of foamy spray bouncing off the ship from the window in our cabin. I still have felt no seasickness, and the tiny rainbows created from the spray are dazzling, tiny arcs lasting mere seconds.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

In Field Methods we made a list of events that changed your life, or altered something about you, in which no one else was aware. Then a lengthy poem was read that we listened attentively to, especially the lyrical and expressive language. At its conclusion the class made a list of twenty words that we could remember. Referring back to our list of events we choose one and write about it using as many of the twenty words as possible. Here is my attempt on the exercise in which I detail my first time competitively swimming the five hundred freestyle:

The clear, shrill pitch of the whistle echoes off blue-gray walls. The sound is brief before silence, a hiatus in the cheers and murmur of friends, and then the splash into silver, opaque water that sets a fire in the flutter of feet and strokes of arm over arm over arm. The swimmer dives with a turn at the wall descending, streamline, composed. The number “one” etched translucent on her brain as she counts to herself. Like a seal giving chase to the alarming jaws of a shark in the silver light of the moon, only it is the flash of a camera or a glitter of light that is visible from her submerged face. The coverlet of water, translucent, swells around her torso, arms, legs. The counter reads 3, 5, 7…15, 17. A rush down the length of the pool, dark abyss below, victory one more lap to go. The rusty wet hinge of the lap counter screeches, bends unwillingly to reveal a sequin of red patches. She inhales, knowledge of the end mere inches away. Like a cod trapped, the netting secure and unyielding, she is out of breath, kick, stroke, kick, kick, into the wall.

Exercise two consisted of expressing a moment in Venezuela utilizing the same words, so here is the fruit from that labor:

One the island of Coche, the rusty anchorage of the catamaran, Yemaya, drops into the undulating swells of opaque saltwater. The coverlet of whitecaps and rolling breakers glitters translucent in the blue-gray depths. Dark roots of dune vegetation weave up and down, in and out, sequins of leaves woven like the tight netting of a bodice over the cinnamon sand. A clear, dirt path leads away from the briny beds of oysters to the conch mounds. There a young boy hands me a shell dimpled and cratered from barnacles, but its clandestine secret is revealed in the glow of the orb of fire, the sun. Iridescent protrusions, creamy abalone, pearls interrupted from sleep.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

I feel like I have neglected talking about the food on the ship and so I will jot down a brief overview. For breakfast I typically enjoy a bowl of cereal with skim milk, they also have whole, and on occasion low fat. The cereal selection varies each day, with about three choices; some include Frosted Flakes, Fruit Loops, Special K, Rice Krispies, Cheerios, and Raisin Bran. There is also a selection of fruit ranging from pineapple, peaches, and pears, to grapes, apples, and oranges, though of late a large round green, citrus like fruit has made an appearance, which I hear is rather gross. Of course there is also eggs, pancakes, toast, bacon, sausage, and pastries, but I really enjoy having my bowl of cereal, fruit, and cinnamon raisin bread with butter and strawberry jelly. Of course, I can’t pass up sausage when it comes around.

Lunch is basically like dinner with a salad and vegetables, rice, and meat. Sometimes, like the other day there are means to make a sandwich or you might find grilled cheese with ham, which was fantastic. I have heard many students complain about the peanut butter, but it is always available, as is the jelly, and it does make a good sandwich. Today I had a peanut butter and jelly, though I am not sure whether it is grape or strawberry, and a bowl of minestrone. Although if you have a jelly preference, they have small packs at breakfast and you could always snag a few for later.

Dinner is just like lunch, a full meal, sometimes better than others. Typically if the lunch selection is better, the dinner is not, and vice versa, though there is always something to enjoy and satiate your appetite. There are only two selections of salad dressing at a time, usually Blue Cheese and Raspberry Vinaigrette make an appearance together, as do French and Creamy Italian, though there is also Ranch, and Italian, and I have as yet to see any Caesar, which is my favorite. Oh well! I have actually been using a lot of the Raspberry Vinaigrette. The vegetables are cooked very nicely and are not overdone like some school dining halls like to do, and the rolls at dinner are fabulous and fresh. I have not tried any dessert yet, but next time it is something that I would enjoy, I plan to indulge just once for the sake of documentation.

After dinner we returned to our cabin to find the second set of confirmed field programs, and at least something has gone right so far. Including pre-sale trips and the recent confirmation, we have been lucky enough to have received all our the trips we have chosen including the Nature Tour in South Africa, Wasini and Kisite Island Dhow after our safari and hot air balloon adventures in Kenya, the Cambodia: Temples of Angkor in Vietnam, and the Beijing/Xi’an trip. It is such a relief to know that I will be able to participate in all of the field programs that I so desperately wanted to experience.

September 10, 2005
A Rough Day At Sea

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

Last night was very interesting because of the marked increase in the wave height, which inadvertently affects the pitching of the ship. I cannot wait until the noon report to find out the exact height, but calm seas is definitely not in the forecast today. I would not be exaggerating to say that our window has been completely covered by the salty spray, as bulging swells of water bolt across the backdrop of blue seas and white cloudy skies.

We have our first Global Studies exam in two days, and the only thing I have to do is study, study, study. I have been keeping up with all of my schoolwork and have managed to finish all of my readings up until our arrival in South Africa, which gives me plenty of time to read for Travelers’ Journals, though I am already halfway through the book and loving it, journal, and focus on my first paper which is due in about two weeks.

Megan writes, “Global Studies was possibly my favorite lecture thus far as it concerned the Candomble religion. Most orishas mentioned and its relationship with Yoruba roots draws me back to my studies with African art. I watched Heather glance occasionally at my notes for correct spellings of names. I am even more excited to witness these connections firsthand in two more days.”

I know this is only the beginning of rough seas to come, but thus far I still feel absolutely fine and dandy. I have actually had a couple of people tell me that I look too cheerful for the waves outside. I guess that many students are starting to feel the effects. From inside our cabin, you can hear all types of squeaking and squealing, bumps and bangs, as things topple over and the ship adjusts to each oncoming wave.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

This is perhaps the most severe day at sea since our departure in Nassau. Waves breaching against the hull of the ship explode off the side like fireworks, their foamy spray mixing with flecked prismatic confetti caught in the sunbeams that glide across the water. Up and down goes the ship, up and down, and still up and down again. Enormous breakers burst into the air and fly across our window on deck four. You anticipate the sizeable collisions with the moment of intensity and increased illumination that flees into the cabin. Never have I seen such waves. And yet, I am fine, minus the additional swaying and some stumbling on stairs I can admit to having experienced. I am quite surprised, and thankful, that this has not effected me in the least physically. However, several students are apparently feeling the oceans newfound passion with the wind.

Heather writes, “If this had been a luxury cruise and I had not been so prepared for the seasickness with every remedy known to man I can definitely see how I would probably be worshipping the porcelain god right now. I am great, and happy, and I actually don’t mind the swinging and swaying of the ship. It feels so good looking at the position report on the television and seeing that we have crossed the equator and only have two more days until Brazil. On another note, it was quite strange to have classes on a Saturday, and I had to keep reminding myself that it was the weekend and not Friday.”

It is amazing to think that our total distance since Venezuela is one thousand six hundred and six nautical miles. At an average speed of 17.4 knots, there are one thousand one hundred and ninety one nautical miles until we reach our next port. We will cross the equator today around 1700, but owing to our Global Studies exam in two days King Neptune has agreed to wait and make his appearance September 20, 2005, in what is sure to be a grand party for all soon to be ex-pollywogs.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

We are actually crossing the equator today around seventeen hundred, looks like king Neptune gave us some rougher seas than expected – long swells, cloudy skies, and a wave height of six and a half feet. All is not calm across the deck. At one point this afternoon a resonating sound echoed off the ship to the swell of waves crashing against our windows on the fourth deck. I turned around so fast my right side went numb.

Megan writes, “As I study in my cabin, the creaking and popping of hinges creates an unwelcome concerto with the detonation of thundering waves beating against the ship.”

In honor of crossing the equator we had a barbeque on the pool deck for dinner. It was fantastic, and I had a hot dog. As with most cruise ships, the dessert was not so great, but the pool bar was selling jumbo chocolate chip cookies, and well I had a weak moment. We were just saying earlier how we wanted a chocolate chip cookie. It did the trick.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

Tomorrow is laundry day, at last. With a heaping bag it is a welcome relief that has come only too soon, or too late, from the washing of apparel in the sink. I will organize the bag(s) for later and fill out the required forms. I am, of course, looking forward to the replenishment of my wardrobe.

Heather writes, “I am so glad that it is tomorrow because after Margarita Island I have some serious laundry. I have been trying to hand wash some of the heap that has piled up in the last few days, but it is very limiting with how many items you can fit on the line. We washed two pairs of shorts, which was the maximum capacity for the line and it took almost two days to dry. Hopefully everything will go well and we will have clean clothes in no time.”

As the sea is still relatively rough, I am so focused on my tasks that little seem to bother me. I am still studying for the Global Studies exam in two days. It is uncanny, but the time is cruising and I am finding out that the period between ports is consumed with classes, meals, endless studying and journaling, so much so that no sooner have we left Venezuela, than we are ready to arrive in Brazil.