Shaved Heads - At Last

 Please be sure to check “Bye Bye Brazil” underneath this entry, as well as any other journals from our stay in Salvador. As we posted everyday in port, there are quite a few new entries if you have not checked regularly. Our recommendation for someone on a tight time schedule is “A Very Special Day” and “Shaved Heads – At Last”.

September 18, 2005
At Sea

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

“So tell everybody I’m on my way, new friends and new places to see. Blue skies ahead, yes I’m on my way, and there is no place that I would rather be.” Yes, we are at sea again and it is beautiful. If the sunset last night was not good enough like a tequila sunrise melting into the blueness of night, than today knows no equal. The sea is so blue and so still. I don’t think I have ever seen it like this before. As we move farther into the Atlantic the water has taken on an almost quicksilver like finish, the slate gray clouds closing in on top like a ceiling of fluffy whipped cream compressing the sea and the sky.

Megan writes, “The sea is so calm and flat I am not even sure we are moving towards South Africa and crossing the oceanic void in front of us. I had breakfast, in which I am enjoying a bowl of cereal – Rice Krispies, Special K or Raisin Bran has been the selection the last couple of days. I have switched to toasting English muffins and normally a fried egg or cheese omelet or two sausage links or breakfast ham. I have also been eating a lot of green apples and would not call it a full day until I have had at least one.”

Today in Global Studies I sat, three, yes, three seats to the left of Archbishop Desmund Tutu. Three, count them…one, two, three, and there he sat, smiling and laughing in a gray Semester at Sea polo, the rest of us smiling and laughing with him. In fact, when the Dean introduced him, the students in the Union stood up, clapping enthusiastically at the arrival of our honored guest. I could have cried, waiting for something like this for so long and then it is here, and we were all applauding as if we had known him forever. Of course, the biggest question of the hour was how he would integrate with the students. But just as if he had never left the ship and had been here all along he waited in line for lunch and sat down to a full table of students. How amazing. Did I mention that I sat three seats to his left?

Megan writes, “In Global Studies I sat four seats away, in the same row, as Archbishop Desmond Tutu. I am not sure anyone was able to pay attention to the lecture. He stood when Dean Tymitz introduced him and we all stood and clapped for what seemed like an eternity. I am sure my face was flushed and reddened from the excitement. It is so thrilling to have him on board. He was in the dining hall eating with four students at lunch, and I am bewildered by the generous and receptive nature he has shown everyone this far. I guess I never expected him to mingle and socialize in such an ordinary routine. Perhaps I am one of many placing him on a pedestal too high so that he seems inaccessible. Students walking by him as he sat in the Union for Global Studies did not even realize it was him, one girl practically climbing over him to get to an empty chair in my row. When we told her he was a couple chairs down she laughed and said, ‘Should I go apologize to him for sticking my ass in his face?’”

I miss Brazil already, but the routine of classes has begun again and we have had the honor of listening to our other pre-port lecturer in Anthropology Tourism. It occurs to me that because I have left out all mention of the treats I bought in Brazil, that I have also censored myself from writing about the wonderful adventures that correspond to them, of which this is something I will definitely resolve in my future journals, though, once again, they will be void from the online portion.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

I am assuredly lulled into a false sense of security with the smoothness of the waves and mostly likely tomorrow we will be rocking and rolling across the Atlantic ocean. Signs were hung announcing laundry day and Heather and I managed to pack all of our dirty apparel into one bag. We labeled the white plastic carrier with a pink sharpie, trying to be original and Heather drew a smiley face and wrote thank you. Perhaps we will get our clothes back tomorrow.

Heather writes, “We advanced our clocks one hour tonight and I am told that there will be five more such advancements before our arrival in Cape Town. So, with no further adieu, goodnight, until next time.”

September 19, 2005
At Sea – Rocking and Rolling as Ormond Says

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

It has finally hit. I don’t know whether it is a result of my laxness yesterday in using any of the plethora of seasickness measures I bought with me, but after Global Studies this morning I crashed on the bed and forced down some Dramamine, while ripping out the sea-bands and positioning them on my wrists. We have swells of between six and seven feet, and though we have experienced this height before, the waves are hitting the ship in a different direction and my stomach would completely agree. I did not think that I would be able to eat lunch, but felt as if I should try to eat something. The ship has delicious bread and rolls so I choose a slice of white bread and thought to myself that a bowl of soup would be nice. What a surprise when I discovered it was split pea soup, a traditional South African dish, and consequently it was exactly what the doctor ordered. I felt infinitely better and ready to take on the rest of the day.

Megan writes, “Yes, the inevitable, the direction of the ship has made it nearly impossible to avoid the pitching of breakers against the hull. The six and half feet waves feel incredibly high as small objects, hair claws and pens, fall off their tables onto the carpeted floor. In addition, three of the bon-voyage cards have fallen over in their alcove and several drawers on the nightstand and underneath the television peek open to reveal their organized innards. Just now, as I am writing this, a can of shaving cream has fallen from the shower rack and is rolling noisily across the tile flooring of the bathroom. I will have to secure everything tonight before going to sleep. Does this mean tape? Perhaps not yet.”

We put our cards out from Mom on our nightstand to open in a couple of days, and found it interesting that they do not say to open halfway between Brazil and South Africa, just between the two. So I said it felt like the card was not square, which led from one thing to another, and that the little orange blob showing through the white envelope was probably fish. Needless to say we opened them and found a very cute card depicting a fishbowl. On a side note, Mom, they cannot be Pontus and P2 because they are in the same dish and that means that pretty soon there will only be one fish swimming around the clear surface and one sunk at the bottom – if you get the drift. Anyway, it brightened our day, especially with the minor spell of seasickness. We cannot wait to use our tea, as they only have the bland Lipton brand upstairs.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

Our laundry has returned, it seemed the pink decorations worked miraculously. Even the enormous amount of ironing was hung on the doorknob. I officially believe that we are the only cabin to have received the ironing back as well with our laundry.

Heather writes, “Again, we were honored by the presence of our interport lecturer in Travelers’ Journals and a discussion on the sights of South Africa. I am getting more and more excited and cannot wait to hear Desmund Tutu speak and our imminent arrival in our third port.”

We have magnetized our blackout curtain over the window, as the rolling breakers and plunging patterns of the ship seem to interrupt the darkness with flashes of light from the whitecaps of waves rebounding off of the hull. Thus far it has worked in keeping down the blind. We turned our clocks forward last night and will do so again tonight. Five hours in all will be our goal. How will I ever call home with such a distinct difference?

Tomorrow is Neptune day and I am not even sure what festivities will be available as nothing has really be said about the event. Perhaps the undulation of waves is the announcement of King Neptune to all pollywogs to prepare for initiation. Without much at sea, except classes on the weekend and a daily routine established, I feel as if weeks has elapsed since our stay in Brazil.

Heather writes, “We took an unexpected nap before dinner, and once again we will advance our clocks one hour, putting us a grand total of three hours ahead of our friends and family at home. We do not have class tomorrow because it is Neptune’s Day and I have no idea what to expect, hopefully good food, and maybe some chocolate chip cookies!”

How awkward was it to have class on Sunday? I checked my email and blog several times thinking everyone at home is off because it is the weekend; no emails from the home campus because no one is in the offices.

Heather writes, “Before going to sleep I worked on some study guides for Global Studies and a little writing on my next Tourism essay due sometime in October.”

I am tired and have to turn my clock forward again. Thinking of home and everyone there. Shannon and Ashley’s comments on the blog made me smile on such a chaotic day at sea when everyone looks as if they are either dancing a bizarre routine together, left and then right again and again, or we have all had too much to drink.

September 20, 2005
Shaved Heads – At Last

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

Okay, so I had you going there for a minute, right? No, no shaved heads here. Captain Neptune has prepared quite a show for us with ten-foot waves. Ironically, they feel like less than yesterday, though that is not the case.

Heather writes, “Megan and I awoke at six o’clock this morning regardless of the fact that we had no class today. We were upstairs eating breakfast, a bowl of cereal, English muffin and link of sausage, when the rumors started flying. What was happening down below? Apparently King Neptune’s men were awaking the pollywogs with horns and drums and knocking on doors. Boy am I ever glad that I was awake and dressed! So a steady stream flowed into the Garden Lounge for breakfast looking as if they had just rolled out of bed, and was none to pleased about it.”

On our way from breakfast, Desmond Tutu, yes, Archbishop Desmond Tutu stopped Heather and I to ask if we were twins. He and his wife were on their way to breakfast and of course, I just had to mention this. Unsure of the festivities for the day, we sat in the Piano Lounge for a while, then back to the Garden Lounge for hot tea. Apparently everyone was awoken to loud drumming and the marching of King Neptune and his followers. Luckily I was already up as I hear many students were not overly thrilled about the wake-up call. By the way, did I mention Desmond Tutu asked if Heather and I were twins?

Heather writes, “We made our way back to our cabin, when who should we run into, but none other than Desmund Tutu. How exciting. We had a little chat with him and his wife, before deciding that we would return to the Garden Lounge for a cup of tea. I meet Desmund Tutu today, and he asked if we were twins. How cool is that?”

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

On our second trip back to our room we heard the faintest of drumming, getting gradually louder as King Neptune, his Queen and loyal servants of the sea made their way to the pool deck for a day of festivities. We followed them up to the cheers of “pollywogs” and ridiculous costumes parading around the pool, some of the crew masquerading in pointed foil caps with white sheets wrapped around their shoulders like capes. The King was Captain Jeremy, absolutely resplendent in bright green paint and wig. Where else can an honorable Captain be coerced into the garb of a mythological god? Only on Semester at Sea apparently. Then it was time to recite the official oath and get underway with the transformation from pollywogs to shellbacks, no matter how gross, with goo and grime. Megan and I watched the celebration from the side of the pool as pitchers of what smelled like fish guts were poured over the student’s heads and they splashed into the communal bathtub to wash the grits out of their hair. It was so gross to see the crystal clear water of the pool as it turned to a cloudy mush, and the smell was much worse. Finally we could take it no longer and returned to our cabin. I felt really down because of this ritual and an overwhelming sense of guilt that I was too chicken to become a shellback. I think that we sat in our cabin for about fifteen minutes when suddenly we both decided it was not worth it to regret something so trivial as having fish rot poured over your head. So we threw on our suits and CMBP shorts and ran back up to the pool deck, praying that we were not to late. We made it just in time, and shared a pitcher between the two of us, as the ringleader, our Executive Dean, announced the presence of the twins at last. It was so gross, but at least I can say that we are no longer pollywogs. On a side note, it was not exactly fish guts, but a mixture of probably vinegar and oatmeal, as the fish would make it quite difficult to clean the pool and would be tremendously unhygienic.

Megan writes, “There was an enormous beautiful rainbow over the stern of the ship this morning. With my camera stashed in my purse, I took a couple photos before it vanished. Perhaps King Neptune’s arrival coincided with the appearance of the rainbow. Up on deck seven, near the pool, all pollywogs were initiated, or at least those brave enough.”

Hooray for the shellbacks. I still have my hair, thankfully, though many students decided to shave their heads. I probably washed my hair at least five times and scrubbed my body, but in the end I am glad that I did it, and very pleased with the few pictures that someone took for us on our camera.

Megan writes, “The process was fairly simple, and to some extent, rather official as those initiated had their identification number written down. I am not exactly sure as to the purpose, but I am sure that will eventually be made clear. King Neptune, of course, was the captain painted in green. His followers, the drummers, fish ladies and queen were all wrapped in white sheets with glittering decorations. I thought we weren’t allowed to take sheets out of our cabin? Hmmm. Heather and I didn’t want to contribute such falsehoods to our online journal as: yes, we are no longer pollywogs. As such, we were initiated by the pouring of smelly liquid, supposedly vinegar and oatmeal pieces, but still reeking of disgusting fish, then a jump into the cloudy pool, kissing a fish, and bowing before King Neptune himself. I can now shout, “I AM A SHELLBACK!” I am not feigning such a feat, for I am no longer a pollywog.”

We relaxed for the remainder of the day, doing some work for Global Studies and a paper that is due in Anthropology Tourism at some point in October since I have the first essay completed already.

There are five more days until South Africa and it seems as if everything is flying by.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

The rest of the day I have relaxed and worked some, on and off. Doing some more preparation for my next Global Studies exam and writing my second paper for Anthropology of Tourism.

We went up to the pool bar to get some more water and treated ourselves to our first sodas in twenty-five days. It feels like Survivor where you get that one-bite-of-chip-one-sip-of-soda-deal and then you are without such luxuries again. Of course, not having had soda for so long, the carbonation did not seem too thrilled in my stomach, as I soon felt a little empty.

As for the remainder of the evening, after dinner I will post on the blog and do some writing. Sleep tight…