One More Day

September 11, 2005
At Sea

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

The sea has been rough all day with long swells and a height of approximately six to seven feet. It seems as if everything has slowed down, and I hesitate to say it, but established a routine. Though I know that will be out the porthole in two days when we arrive in Brazil.

Today is laundry day and we have sent two bags off to be cleaned. Hopefully all goes well and everything will return clean and pressed. I am tired of studying and cannot wait for this exam to be over.

We had the cultural pre-port tonight and Brazil looks incredible. I don’t know what I expected but if we make it to the places they suggested than we should see some really beautiful parts of the city. We were told that wearing shorts and tank tops is perfectly acceptable, and white is the best color to wear to a Candomble House, which we will be going to on the thirteenth day of September. Apparently Itaparica, an island off of Salvador has an incredible beach, so I am also looking forward to spending some time there as well with the Traditional Ceramics FDP. Pelourinho has some awesome shopping and the pictures they showed us remind me of a mixture of Curacao and Bermuda with the pastel painted colonial architecture and narrow roads. There is also a craft market at the terminal, and I cannot wait to exchange money to shop!

Tomorrow is the exam and hopefully it will not be that difficult. We were assigned a specific room for the exam, and Megan and I will be taking the test in the Garden Lounge on Deck Six.

We had three minutes of silence tonight at the pre-port for the victims of 9-11, the tsunamis in Asia and Katrina disaster in the United States, and stood listening to the sounds of the ship. I have to admit that I half expected someone to fall over, but I had a firm grasp on the chair in front of me.

September 12, 2005
At Sea

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

The last couple days have been filled with constant studying for my first exam. I found the test to be straightforward, specifically with statistics on the countries and class lectures. However, some of the questions referring to articles read outside class were a little more difficult. To better prepare for this section of the exam in the future I will focus a little more note taking and review on the minor details and concepts within these articles.

Heather writes, “One more day to go! We had the Global Studies exam this morning and it went pretty well. I found many of the questions to be quite easy, especially the statistical ones concerning Brazil and Venezuela. However, some of the more in-depth, below the surface questions definitely required a full understanding of the people, so hopefully I did enough studying and passed with flying colors. It’s normal that I always worry, and still I do fine.”

One bag of laundry was returned, including pajamas, socks, and a multitude of t-shirts, all freshly washed and perfectly ironed. I am trying to remain calm and patient for the return of the second bag. However, it is easy to agonize over the clothes that would be lost which included all of my shorts, minus one pair, my blue-jeans, Terp towel, and several tank-tops. It seems as if all of the laundry has been returned and I cannot explain why this one is missing. If I see our room steward I will inquire as to its absence. Until then, I glance out the door every couple of minutes hoping to see my garments.

Heather writes, “Our steward brought us our laundry, nice, clean, and pressed, but we are still waiting on one bag. I hope nothing has happened to it because it contained blue jeans, shorts, and beach towels. Needless to say that if it is gone then we are down to one pair of blue jeans each and one pair of shorts. There were a couple of tops in the bag as well, but those are mostly dispensable.”

The ocean is still pitching from side to side, relentless in its routine. Soon we will be docked in Salvador and it will be so wonderful for a break on land. I love the ship and my cabin, but a change of scenery will be a welcome reprieve. Never have I spent this long away from land, but I love every minute of “being between the blue” as Heather calls it.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

We checked our weblog this morning and our email and had several responses to our last couple of days on the ship. Yes, I am eating my peas, mom, we opened it on the first day, and we have also opened the cards for Venezuela that have a stack of about five chocolate chip cookies on the front. Tomorrow we get to open another. It seems as if each semester there is a cookie card, and I am glad you did not let this semester slip by without one. Ms. Nan, about the cookies, I wish we had some!

Megan writes, “Yes, I have eaten my peas…but no, seriously, the book Eat Your Peas is adorable. There is, of course, a story that goes along with that. As instructed we opened the small gift the day after we departed Nassau. Since then, we have opened the card for Venezuela in which chocolate chip cookies tempt the wandering eyes. Cute card. My eyesight at the point of receiving the little book was extremely fuzzy due to the seasickness patch so Heather had to read it to me. I tried to enjoy the colors and cute text, but to no avail. Since then, and now that I see perfectly, I glance at it every night on my nightstand and every morning.”

We have traveled two thousand four hundred thirty one miles since La Guaira and have started the countdown – three hundred sixty seven nautical miles to go. In actuality I believe we will arrive in Salvador tonight. The skies are cloudy and the ship is rocking. I replaced my patch this morning and feel great.

Megan writes, “It is almost time for dinner and I have finished my novel of five hundred and five pages. We have received a portion of our laundry from bag two, only the Terp blankets, and are anxiously awaiting the others return.”

So we are still missing laundry, but did receive our Terp beach towels. What does this mean? When do I get worried? Should I be concerned? If it is not here by tomorrow I will have to start asking questions. I think that perhaps because we requested the clean and press service that it is taking longer. We shall see.

We had dinner tonight with Betty and Bob, two of the adult passengers and had a great time talking. It was quite noisy in the Garden Lounge, and now I have a serious migraine. They might be doing the same field program tomorrow, which would be really exciting. They are from New Hampshire and Bob is a music teacher. I think what I like most about them is that they remind me of Nana and PopPop. I don’t know why, but they do. We are also going to become a part of their adopted family onboard and I am really looking forward to getting to know them better. It feels so great to find someone that I can really talk to and have an intellectual conversation.

Megan writes, “At dinner we sat with Betty and Bob, adult passengers onboard and extremely nice. We found out that we had missed the sign-up, somehow, for the adopt-a-family and it seems that we will most likely join their group. What fun. They are from New Hampshire (Mom and Dad, you might remember seeing them from before we boarded the ship).”

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

Tonight is a pre-port logistics meeting from eight to nine and after that I will mostly likely do a little journaling and go to sleep. I am looking forward to visiting the Mercado Modelo, a folk art market with all kinds of Bahian handicrafts, as well as Pelourinho. Day two in Brazil will take us to Itaparica Island with our Field Directed Practicum on Traditional Ceramics. Of course, the beaches are famous for their clear waters and backdrop of verdant foliage. I sound like such a tourist.

Good night cosmic void…
(How poetic)

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.

Venezuela

September 3, 2005
Venezuela

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

This morning we arrived in Venezuela to the sights of a commercial shipping port in La Guaira. After being cleared by the customs officials around eight thirty we attended a diplomatic briefing, reminding us one last time of the dangers and safety tips before we disembarked the ship. It was a nice sunny day and I remember seeing the lights of La Guaira this morning when I awoke at six, the land looming ever closer.

Megan writes, “This was our first stop, La Guaira, Venezuela. It is as foreign to this computer’s spell check as it is to me. La Guaira.”

At nine thirty Megan and I took our first step into our first port of call, heading from the port terminal to the three tour buses outside awaiting students on the Grand Introduction to Caracas. The terminal was small, dirty, and not much to see, but the buses were air conditioned and comfortable enough in terms of cleanliness. It was a forty-five minute drive from La Guaira to Caracas, winding along the highway, under overpasses and through tunnels, past the airport, up, up, and up to the city three thousand feet above sea level. The weather in Caracas was pleasant; a nice breeze making my blue jeans a welcome in what I thought might be stifling heat. Caracas was dirty, depressing, and the only way I can describe it is worse than any other city I have ever been to. I have never seen so many buildings in disrepair, sure to topple at the first breeze. It made me think of Grenada after hurricane Ivan, and I would have to say that Caracas is much worse. The windows, even on the top floors of apartment complexes are barred with curved metal, hung with laundry. Most are not air-conditioned and many have satellite dishes attached to the sides of buildings, though these do not work; they are only for show.

Before we stepped on the buses this morning Megan and I noticed a familiar face from January at the terminal awaiting the students – our tour guide from Margarita Island. We asked him if he remembered us. He said it was impossible that we had him as a tour guide, but we knew that there was no way it could not have been him. Later when he arrived with another of the student tours to lunch he came over to chat. We told him we had come to Margarita Island on a cruise, and that he had taken us to the Dunes Resort and that we were not sure when we were suppose to be back to the Empress of the Seas because the captain had extended port time. He smiled and said, “Then, it is just possible that you are right,” and of course we were.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

Wearing long pants and a t-shirt, I was relieved it did not seem overly hot and sticky. At the Pantheon I was reassured in my choice of apparel. They do not permit visitors in shorts to enter. The Pantheon had a very open feel, flags bowing upon the floor in their mounts like courtesans. A statue of Bolivar announced itself at the opposite end. It felt like a palace and I was making a request from the king. An appeal for what though? Perhaps to understand the way of life in Venezuela, the reduced conditions, the lack of reserve medical supplies, the barrios on the hill. Simon Bolivar was buried at the Pantheon, a monument for his people. Other notables were there including three women, a writer, a musician, and a heroine.

Heather writes, “In a way you could compare the Pantheon to Westminster Abbey in London.”

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

The ranchitos line the hills around the city like popcorn, and are perhaps what we would call slums. Many do not have roofs, electricity, and water, but the land is free and so they build their homes near the city. It is amazing that these people live in one room in such poor conditions. They are of such abundance and so high in the mountains that I wonder how they got there.

The city surprised me. It is a maze of filth, peeling paint, poor roads, and lack of sanitation. I don’t know what I expected, but not this. Granted, the city does have some nicer parts, Las Mercedes and such, but the majority of the city lives in deplorable conditions.

Perhaps the highlight of the tour was Mount Avila. Standing at the bottom as I waited for a cable car I remember looking at the utmost visible point thinking that that was where I would be standing after the twelve-minute ascent. I was wrong. The cable car fit eight people and gave us an incredible view of the city; a view improved much by distance. As we reached the point visible from the ground, I looked up and as far as the eye could see, cable cars, ascending even higher, seven thousand feet. Indeed only pictures can do this justice. It was cooler at the top with a spectacular view of the ocean and the city, the buildings a wash of terracotta, blue, green, and yellow, but surprisingly touristy with shops, vendors, and stands selling traditional Venezuelan food, but nothing of interest. Megan and I did not have the chance to change any money over to Bolivares because the tour left immediately after being cleared, though fortunately we did not need any of the foreign currency. I was very glad of my backpack, today being the first time I have used it, and it provides so much security. I guess I owe dad on this one since he found them for us.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

We left the Pantheon for higher ground. Taking the Avila lift I was transported up 7,000 feet or more to the top of Mt. Avila. The wind was descent, the clouds so low or I so high I could nearly touch them. If they were any closer they would be physical entities, real, corporeal and concrete. A part of me wishes they were. They hovered about the peak as I traversed the path. Twenty minutes later the lift conveyed me back safely to the ground. The cables were thick and secure, and I saw dense foliage underneath me, verdant and dynamic. The plant life mimics the people I have met thus far. With so little rain, the plants manage to thrive.
Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

Lunch was at a local restaurant in Caracas, and I seriously wondered whether I would be eating the granola bars and cracker packs I brought along, but surprising we ended up at a very nice restaurant called Rucio Moro. We had barely sat down to the table, large banquet tables were set for the massive influx of students on the tour, before an army of waiters brought plates of cheese, salad, arepas, yucca, fried yucca, and baked plantains to the table. Of course, we all sat there asking each other if the water was safe, and whether we could drink it, but the restaurant served the water right before the table from bottles. Everything was delicious, especially the cheese and white corn cakes. I tried the yucca, which tasted like a potato, and enjoyed the fried yucca the most as it reminded everyone of French fries. They served us very tender, juicy beef, and kept putting more slices on our plates when we finished a slice. I think Semester at Sea went all out on this one.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

Lastly we went to Quinto Anauco, a colonial manor house frequented by Simon Bolivar. The doors were high and it felt open, one with the outdoors. Each room was dark as the chandeliers were not on. The guide illuminated the rooms as we entered and dispelled the lights as we departed. It was like a brief glimpse into the houses previous glory. The guide did not want flash photography and several students did not observe such an easy request. It was frustrating.

Heather writes, “It was so frustrating when other students used the flash on their cameras after repeatedly being asked not too. It showed little respect for their history and I was embarrassed to be apart of the group. We saw a cacao tree with the pods attached and it is hard to believe that these small little beans produce chocolate.”

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

It was back to the ship at around six for dinner, and we packed for our five thirty flight to Margarita the following morning. I am so excited about returning to the beach and Margarita Island. We are going to bed at eight so that we are rested for the next three days.

September 4, 2005
Margarita Island

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

It has been a very long day full of tour buses, airports, the hot sun beating down on me, and cold showers. With a five thirty flight from La Guaira to Margarita Island I awoke at four o’clock this morning and reported to the Union for check-in, passport distribution, and boxed breakfasts. The airport was about fifteen minutes from the port and needless to say, with so many students there is usually a bump or two in the road. It took almost an hour and a half to check baggage, pick-up tickets, check passports, go through security, and board the flight, which was delayed because of ticketing issues from our group. It was a thirty-five minute flight to the island, and a very uncomfortable one at that. I do not like airplanes in the least and this one was very noisy, very smelly, and very dirty. We exited the plan through what I will call the butt right out onto the pavement outside and it was an interesting experience to say the least; one that I was glad to put behind me.

Megan writes, “We had to wait in the airport for what seemed like an eternity, they even delayed the flight for us because of several problems with tickets. I did not care for the plane, it was small, and the air was stale. It was only a thirty-five minute flight to paradise, but I had not really eaten so the vacant hollowness in my stomach was filled with nausea. I could not wait for it to end. The Margarita sunshine welcomed me as I exited what our group has termed the “butt” of the plane. It was noisy and the sound of the engines and equipment as we walked from outside on the runway to the terminal rendered it difficult to communicate.”

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

George took us to the bus and we were off to the Minor Basilica of Our Lady of the Valley.

Heather writes, “It was a very hot day and I was very uncomfortable. Our first stop was at a colonial town and the local church. Ironically, September first through eighth is the Festival of Our Lady of the Valley as hundreds of Venezuelans flock to the church to pay homage to this religious figure. The cobbled streets were packed with locals carrying flowers and idols, chanting and singing to the lady. The architecture was beautiful, very western colonial inspired and painted in the beautiful colors of the islands.”

We entered the church, appearing like the tourists that we were, and saw the Lady in a glass vitrine wearing a gown embroidered with small pearls and golden thread. Venezuelans sat in the pews intrigued by our presence. We toured another colonial house and the museum where all of the gifts to the Lady are kept. College students asking for the Lady’s help to graduate had given their class rings and there were bowls upon bowls of them and other jewelry.

We then departed for La Asuncion, one of the oldest churches in Latin America. It contrasted against the plaza dedicated to Bolivar and several shops, one of which we purchased postcards for two dollars.

Heather writes, “After a welcome return to the air-conditioned bus we made our way to La Asuncion where we stopped at a familiar sight from my previous travels to Margarita – Bolivar Square where the oldest church stands. We bought several postcards, an interesting endeavor in converting Bolivares for the first time since we paid in US dollars.”

We then continued to the fort where the heroine of Venezuela was held captive. The vista of carpeted green mountains bordered the fortification and the blustery wind seemed to whorl, coil and snake, making every picture of us resemble a Medusa-like hairstyle. In my blue jeans I was quite relieved for the change in temperature.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

Finally we stopped at the botanical gardens where we explored the various flora and fauna of Margarita, mango trees drooping with fresh fruits, the largest anthills I have ever seen, and giant cactus plants used to make tequila. Throughout our walk through the gardens we navigated two labyrinths and drank some local beverages, one made from sugarcane which was very bitter, and the other made from sugarcane and lime juice which was significantly better than the first, but still very sweet. At the conclusion we ate cachapas, which were enormous, and baby bananas. Most of the students had never seen baby bananas before, but Megan and I were so hungry that we ate two, and enjoyed every bite.

Megan writes, “It was unbelievably hot and I rolled my pants up as I sat at the end eating some of the cachapas provided for lunch.”

Before we arrived at the hotel we made a quick stop at Samlin, the mall in Porlamar, where we were able to exchange our money for Bolivares. I worried that perhaps we did not change enough, or maybe we changed too much, but if worse comes to worse we can change it over in Brazil to the local currency. The mall was exactly what you would find in the United States, plus some designer stores.

Megan writes, “Inside the mall, where we spent an hour, Heather and I changed 20 dollars for Bolivares. Knowing we now had some local currency for the next three days made us feel more secure.”

It was a packed day and we were glad to arrive at the Hesperia, which is an all-inclusive hotel. It seemed nice at first, but perhaps I am too picky and find fault where others do not.

Megan writes, “We were placed in the third tower, room 1310. The building was hot and the sounds of voices and dripping water echoed through the concrete corridors.”

Most of the students were placed in bungalows and we were stuck out in a tower that was not too comfortable or favorable in terms of peace of mind. One thing we were able to do for the first time since we began this journey was watch CNN and find out what was going on at home. Rumors circulate like wildfire on the ship and we had heard some pretty interesting rumors regarding Katrina. It was devastating to watch from so far away, and we found out that one of the students flew home today to be with her family and will return before we depart Venezuela.

We went to lie by the pool around four and enjoy some sun time before dinner. Most of the group had already meandered out to the irregular shaped pool and tiki hut pool bar for food and of course drinks, namely because the Hesperia is all-inclusive which means as many free drinks as you want as long as you want. When we returned to our room we showered, which was cold and disappointing. I felt lonely and slightly depressed and will be glad to return to the ship. We went to bed at eight and tomorrow is the long awaited catamaran.

September 5, 2005
Coche

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

I woke up this morning excited and anxiously awaiting the catamaran to Coche, or as the Venezuelans say it, ka-ta-maran. I know I had a lot of expectations going into today, especially because I have had many catamaran experiences.

I had a horrible night sleep, partially because I was uncomfortable with our accommodations and partially because I bit my lip and it hurts very badly. Either I moisten my lips and it stings or I don’t and they are dry and chapped and it stings. Apparently the only thing I forgot was something suited to this scenario. The air conditioning in our room is very powerful, which is nice considering it is sweltering outside and I could probably cook a cachapa on the pavement. Hence, it is freezing and I woke up to turn it off only to wake up another two hours later to turn it back on and repeat this process through the course of the night.

We had a forty-five minute bus ride to Porlamar and the marina before boarding the Yemaya, our catamaran with bright rainbow swirls, dots, and petroglyphs painted on the sides. Yemaya, as Megan pointed out before the crew told us, is the Yoruba goddess of the sea. It was a very interesting walk to the Yemaya from the marina, crossing a small beach and walking across a dozen or so floating docks with loose, weathered gray boards swaying back and forth.

Megan writes, “Yemaya, I believe, and would be absolutely embarrassed to be remembering incorrectly, is the Yoruba goddess of water, or Loas. Anyway, she functions in some African based religion, vodun or Candomble or some other I am remiss in recalling. Regardless, the name seems entirely appropriate if correct as Yemaya watches those at sea.”

Soon after boarding we found ourselves seated near the nets drinking a deliciously sweet fruit juice and eating breakfast sandwiches with the same cheese they used for the cachapas yesterday. It was a relaxing, very hot sail to Coche lasting about two hours with a twenty-minute stop three quarters of the way there for a dip in the Caribbean Sea. The water was a beautiful shade of blue and the crystalline waters very welcoming from the sundeck aboard the catamaran.

Megan writes, “We sailed an hour in the smooth surf, Coche’s coastline visible in the distance and Venezuela’s mainland behind that. As promised we dropped anchor for a brief swim in the middle of nowhere. The water was cool and pleasant, the sun intense and stifling. Without goggles or other snorkel gear it was far more relaxing to just bobble up and down in the undulating surf.”

I could not even tell you how many times I reapplied sunscreen today, but the sun was very intense and between the two of us we used almost an entire bottle of SPF 30 and still have little pink noses and shoulders.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

I probably reapplied lotion, SPF 30, every half an hour. The bottle we packed is almost empty and we will have to purchase more. We arrived in Coche and were transported around the island in four trucks.

We went through the town where inhabitants sat on chairs and leaned on the frames of open doors, waving or at least gazing curiously at us as we passed and headed into the arid hills where cactus and desert plants grew in abundance. Near the abandoned salt mines and oyster ponds we went, bumping and shuddering over the baked earth, dry dust, warm and granular, dispersed into the air by the spinning of tires.

Heather writes, “Upon arriving at Coche the group climbed into the back of four covered trucks for a drive around the island. We were in the first truck with about seven other people and I was very thankful that Vera, one of the adult passengers was in our group. Vera is a fellow Terp and I enjoy talking with her. She speaks a fair amount of Spanish and translated what the young boy who was our tour guide told us about the island.”

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

We drove through the capitol city of Coche, a single road with colorful houses lining the street, though very similar to the architecture of Margarita. All were one room with open porches and many with fences made from the cactus that grows throughout the island. It is very dry and arid on Coche, sand, cactus, and very little else. We saw the oyster farms where they harvest the pearls from large manmade saltwater lakes. Along the way we stopped at Elephant Rock, which looks like an elephant standing in the ocean, and it made me think of Nana, and continued on to the conch mounds. For as far as the eye could see white shells, mostly oyster, piled high like hills of crunchy white snow sprawled out over the land. We climbed to the top of one mound, overlooking the Caribbean Sea and had the most breathtaking view. I wish that mom and dad could have been there, it was so amazing, and definitely the highlight of the trip. I felt very much like a tourist though and forced myself not to take a shell. Many of the other participants loaded their pockets with the discarded remains, and I could only imagine what would happen if everybody took a handful as a memento. Luckily I was rewarded, upon boarding the truck our guide gave each of us a shiny oyster shell with a pearl still attached to the inside. The conch mounds are were they dump the shells from the oyster farm, as they cannot put them back in the ocean or it will ruin the ecosystem. I will never forget seeing the tiny pearl inside the shell and its significance to this island. Consequently, our tour guide picked these shells up at the conch mounds, as sometimes birds get to the oysters first and of course the pearl is still left inside.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

We arrived at our last stop, the conch mounds. Thousands upon thousands of shells, piled like mountains. White and gray shells piled from the dirt path to the edge of the cliffs yards away. I walked everywhere, to the cliff and back, on the highest piles and into the lowest gully. Vendors were selling creations made from the shells, but no one purchased from them, many of the passengers took handfuls of the intricate treasures. They could have charged me for taking just the shells and I would have been happy. I did not take any even if this only happened to be a dump, a garbage can where the shells were forsaken after their organisms had been eaten by birds. Back on the truck I felt disheartened, everyone else had taken their own small heaps of the shells, mini conch mounds in their hands, why hadn’t I? The boy climbed back onto the end of the truck and handed Heather and I a shell. It was ugly, the outside coarse and potholed from barnacles. It was special though, hiding such beauty. The inside was pearly and lustrous, fleshy abalone that glittered in the rays of the sun. Small irritations projected outward, pearls still attached, not fully grown, underdeveloped and interrupted, never to be complete. At the end of the tour Heather and I gave the boy two thousand Bolivares, about one dollar.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

We returned to the beach for some time in the sun and lay under the cabanas on the white sandy shore. Shortly after returning we waded out to the catamaran and climbed aboard for lunch. It is jellyfish season and the water is teaming with these clear gelatinous creatures. You move slowly, scanning the surface of the water before advancing and move quickly out of the path of these almost invisible creatures. Lunch consisted of chicken and beef kabobs, salad, bread, and cookies. It was very good and there was a running joke that we were not eating chicken but pelican instead. Some of the other students actually believed it. We returned to the beach; I don’t think I have ever had the chance to really enjoy a catamaran ride and beach so much as we spent almost the entire day on the island and not just a few hours. Many of the girls bought necklaces and cheap pearls, and it reminded me of how important the tourism industry is to the people of Margarita. Megan and I decided to take this opportunity to write on our postcards while sitting on the beach, I can’t think of a better place to write messages home.

As we were leaving the island, our tour guide from Coche came up to us and dropped two pink pearls in our hands. We have some really great memories, and instead of sand from Coche we have shells and pearls to remember this fabulous day. The return trip took one hour and I can honestly say I really wanted to be out of the sun. Returning to the hotel, we could have chosen to lie by the pool, but the last thing we wanted to do was increase our sun exposure for the day, and it was seriously time to let the sun soak. We ate dinner, went to the convenience store and bought two bottles of Australian Gold SPF 45 for thirty three thousand Bolivares, which is a little less than fifteen dollars.

Megan writes, “Going below the equator soon, we are sure this was the smartest thing to have spent any money on at all.”

The Internet was free in the lobby so we checked our email and had a very long message from mom and dad about their time in Nassau at the Atlantis. It made us cry and laugh at the same time and I am sure some of the people were wondering what we were reading. It was the best present I could have received and it makes me happy just thinking about it.

Megan writes, “Mom and Dad had sent an enormous email, which I have saved because it was truly the best medicine. Their stay at the Atlantis for the week sounded wonderful and I cannot wait to see all of their pictures.”

We were very tired and so found ourselves showering, again it was very cold because the hot water was not working and we called it a night around nine o’clock. We have received four one and a half liter bottles of water in our room and we are going to try to take at least two back with us to the ship. I don’t want to sleep and cannot wait to return to the MV Explorer. Our room has two king beds, and we took the sheets off one to put on the other so that we would not freeze tonight from the air-conditioning. Tomorrow we have the mangrove lagoons and the flight back to La Guaira. We leave the Hesperia at twelve forty five and have decided not to lie by the pool in the morning.

September 6, 2005
La Restinga

This morning we were given free time to enjoy the pool or beach at the Hesperia, but after yesterday I can’t imagine taking any more rays without serious damage. Any slight sign of red skin has faded to a nice brown and is perhaps one of the only mementos I will take with me from this island. We went in search of breakfast and upon finding nothing to our liking went to check the Internet again before our departure.

We ate lunch at the pool bar, a small pizza split between us and a coca-cola. I put my limited knowledge of Spanish to use this morning, relying more on my Italian language skills, and asked the guy at the pool bar for, “Dos pizza margaritas, and dos coca-colas.” A women tried to have a conversation with us, consisting of the word, “gemela” meaning twin, but our Spanish affirmatives to this only launched her into a full fledged conversation that we had to end abruptly with “No hablo espanol, hablo ingles.”

We checked out at noon and shortly after found ourselves back on the tour bus for a thirty-minute ride to La Restinga mangrove lagoon. I have never been to a mangrove lagoon and was entirely unsure of what to expect, water, marsh, plants, etc. Upon arrival we split into groups of five and climbed aboard small wooden boats with thick canvas tops to protect passengers from the intense sun. I wore my swimsuit under by shirt and shorts and I was very glad I did. It was absolutely beautiful with winding canals and passes under the thick foliage and shoots coming out of the water or arching below the surface. Our driver scooped a seahorse from the water into a jar and passed it around, followed shortly by a starfish which we each took turns holding. It was the size of my hand, in the deepest orange red imaginable with small bumps across its surface like Braille. What would it have read I wonder if it could communicate that way? The sky was a clear cornflower blue and provided the best backdrop for the deep greens and grays of the mangrove.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

The mangrove lagoon was amazing. In a small boat with Vera and Brianna, the trip leader, and another adult passenger, Heather and I saw the dense vegetation as well as sea horses and starfish. We got a little wet from the water splashing into the boat, but we had worn our suits underneath our clothes. Each winding waterway was marked with a sign for easy navigation and within what seemed like minutes we were hemmed in the confines of root systems and leaf canopies. After a half hour we were headed back towards the dock and onto the bus for our next stop.

Heather writes, “As we sped back to the docks water lapped over the side of the boat, drenching us in the saltiest water imaginable. This was the exact moment I felt so wonderful for wearing my swimsuit, as I was nearly dry by the time we returned to the bus.”

We arrived minutes later at the Marine Museum for a transitory glimpse at the aquarium and displays of shells. The museum was worthy of note however not entirely attention grabbing, plus it was still extremely hot. Our last sojourn was at a boat builders yard. George was apt to point out that the men working there had probably never seen so many beautiful women at one time. The yard was dirty, boats elevated above the ground for repair. For the few minutes we were there, the magnitude of tourism and industry was obvious. Fishing and tourism are the two industries that keep this small island functioning.

Heather writes, “Our last stop of the trip was to a local boat-building yard that smelled strongly of fish. All around we could hear the plunk of hammers and squawking of birds as the locals rushed out to see us.”

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

Finally we returned to the airport, saying goodbye to George, and awaiting our six o’clock flight. Just before boarding we discovered a delay, supposedly a suspicious person had been on the previous flight and thus casing delays to check the plane top to bottom. Needless to say at this point we were calculating whether or not we would make it back for dinner and knew we would not. At long last we boarded an even smaller plane than our trip to Margarita and were on our way.

Megan and I were separated by several rows this time and so I closed my eyes and prayed for the flight to be over. My cushion was not attached to the seat and it made me wonder when the last time it was used as a flotation device might be. The flight was much worse than the first, and I put my Terp towel on the bottom of my chair to cushion my legs from the scratchy burlap feel of the dirty fabric.

We arrived back at the ship with little incident except for a long line of boarding students, bags being checked before boarding, and turned our passports back in to the Purser’s Office. We thought we had missed dinner by about thirty minutes but were greeted with the news that dinner was being held later because of the students with flights having missed the first. I had to weigh in my mind what was more important; shower, or food, and food won out by a very small margin. We did get our shower, warm again, and fell asleep to the swaying of the ship once more after doing some much needed laundry in the sink and some reading.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

Overall, I had a marvelous time returning to Margarita Island. It is truly the first time I have really returned to an island and been able to spend numerous days discovering life in-depth. The scenery was picturesque, the weather, blistering, the people, amusing. As the first stop on Semester at Sea I could not have asked for a better way to begin immersing myself in other cultures. The atmosphere was simple and relaxed and it contributed to my general feeling of contentment and exhilaration. I am filled with anticipation for future ports and experiences.

It will be six days until we reach Brazil, six days of Global Studies, six days of being in my cozy cabin, six days of familiar faces at the dining room welcoming me for meals, six days of reading, six days of class work, and six days at sea, with the blue outside my window, so far tranquil and quiet.

Day Two of Classes

September 2, 2005
At Sea

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

This morning I awoke early for breakfast at seven, in which very few students appeared to be up and about, effects from pub night still lingering. A few adult passengers, faculty and staff were already seated enjoying pleasant conversation and the rays of sunlight playing off the coverlet of whitecaps and surf beating against the hull. The map on channel two announced our location as nearing the Venezuelan coastline, having bypassed Aruba and Curacao. As I have been to both islands back in January, I feel a sense of familiarity at seeing the red line indicating our course near them.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

Tomorrow we arrive in Venezuela! How exciting. When we looked out our window this morning we saw land. NOT Venezuela, but perhaps Curacao as the position report on the television places the MV Explorer between Aruba and Curacao headed straight for Bonaire. We must be getting close to land; there has been a sudden appearance of birds outside the window today soaring over the blue currents and around the ship in circles. In addition, we spotted another ship on the horizon that grew closer and closer as the day progressed.

We sat in the Union for class today and it is probably the worst room in regards to swaying back and forth, or dare I use the word pitching. I admit that I actually started to feel a trifle sick and immediately took Dramamine after the lecture. I am still modeling the extremely trendy sea-bands, as are several other students onboard. I would like to say that it is perchance an elite club, by invitation only because many of the students have no idea what the bands are for. The bands themselves are quite comfortable, yet the small white button that applies pressure to the inside of the wrist leaves a ridiculously red indentation on the skin and becomes quite uncomfortable after prolonged usage. In addition we are also wearing a quarter of the Trans Scop patch and thus far so good. It would seem that the blurred vision takes at least a day to develop and with the smaller dosage size we can easily remove it at the end of the day and reapply in the morning so as to avoid the whole blindness and dehydrated thing.

When we returned to our cabin after lunch we had a message awaiting us. Apparently the Global Nomads, a program onboard that broadcasts sessions back to the States, has asked us to participate in a project for MTV because we are from the University of Maryland. I can’t wait to find out more about it, and am anxiously awaiting my television debut!

Megan writes, “While I am not entirely sure of the details and would be most curious to learn more, it seems like a worthwhile venture. Any comments and thoughts from friends and family at home would be welcome. It is appealing to say the least, and I suppose obtaining a little more particulars would help me decide.”

They made a mistake in the Dean’s Memo broadcasted over the television, scheduling the Global Studies class at nine o’clock in the morning instead of nine twenty, and needless to say, most of the students arrived early for the class due to the time confusion.

“The Voice” on the noon report announced that we have sailed one thousand eighty six nautical miles since departure and have a remaining one hundred thirty one. I am told in actuality that we are nine miles from a small island off Bonaire, not Curacao of which I previously assumed (the name of which I have no idea how to spell without butchering). The seas are moderate today with a height of a little over three feet.

Megan writes, “As I look out of my window a visible etch of mountains is barely discernible, a small island off of Bonaire. Bonaire remains to be the only ABC island I have yet to visit, but does saying I have glimpsed its presence count? I think not, nevertheless sharing company with it for a couple of hours is ideal; it is a rift between the blue, a brief hiatus from the lull of waves extending north, south, east and west.”

We had our first Travelers’ Journals class this afternoon, which is treated much in the way of a Journalism course, and having once been a journalism student, I know that I will do just fine and have high expectations. It is a fairly small class and the best part is that we get to write a lot, both journaling and in-depth assignments. Professor Eastman is extremely nice and likeable, and has encouraged us to be very detailed. For once I feel like my flare for descriptive prose will be appreciated and I look forward to learning some techniques to improve my craft. Of course I relish in the fact that I finally have the long-awaited chance to let the gates of my vocabulary prison (of which has been locked for the better part of two years, occasionally letting a few escape) swing wide open instead of tailoring my writing to a more straight forward simplistic style.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

The Travelers’ Journals class is based somewhat in journalism and fact-finding, so having began as a journalism major I will be able to utilize some of those skills, harvesting information and plucking images from the landscape around me for my three pieces. I also have to read a book to present to the class September 22, 2005. By the time the list came around the only options were the first and last book. I had hoped to read a book from South Africa or Kenya; surprisingly Out of Africa was an option. Oh well. I will have to purchase the book once we are back at sea as the store is closed while in port. That puts a bit of a crunch on the project, which I am sure that is why no one else signed up for the guinea-pig position. I know I will be prepared, seeing that I have already started material for A4 and B4 days.

Tomorrow we arrive in Venezuela and I am having an assortment of strange emotions. I feel like a cream-saver, anticipation from the moment the candy hits the tongue, sweet, concentrated, lingering. It is difficult to realize that four days are behind me already and Venezuela mere hours away. How exciting.

There is another pre-port meeting tonight and I find myself drained from the activities of the day that I can only hope the meeting does not linger particularly long. I am quite eager to get to Venezuela, Mt. Avila, and Margarita Island.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

Max Brandt, the interport lecturer told us in class today that wearing shorts in Venezuela is like an advertisement for being mugged. Apparently tourists only wear shorts, as most of the locals wear pants. I am going to take this advice tomorrow and wear something that does not look like flashing lights to the native population, but will wear shorts during my stay on the island as I have been there already and know of what to expect.

At our pre-port logistics meeting tonight the Executive Dean shared with us some of the funny things he has heard students say over the past couple of days. First, “Do these stairs go down?” To which of course he did not reply but just looked at the stairs that do, of course go down. You had to be there, but it was funny. Second, “Does the crew sleep onboard at night?” And he said, “No, of course not. They sleep on the barge that we tug behind the boat.” And third, and perhaps the best, “Do you think the Captain could stop the ship for about an hour so that we could go swimming?” Response, “I don’t think so! We most certainly can not stop and frolic with the dolphins, porpoises, sharks, and other creatures of the sea.” Apparently the ship that we saw from our window earlier today is the pilot who will help guide the captain into the port.

It has been a very long day and I know that tomorrow will be longer. Hopefully we will post again when we return from Margarita Island on the sixth of September. Stay tuned…

Life Aboard the MV Explorer

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

August 30, 2005
Arrival in Nassau

We arrived in Nassau with all five suitcases intact, much to our relief and gratitude. Perhaps one of the most surprising elements of the day was the white limousine we rode from the airport to Paradise Island and the Atlantis. That night we went out to Bimini Road where we had wonderful Caribbean food and plantain chips of which we absolutely adore. After that we relaxed on inner tubes in the lazy river right outside our villa. Why they placed us in the seclusion of palms and sea grape trees will always bewilder me, but it was sheltered enough from the hurly-burly activities of lifeguards blowing whistles, small children splashing in the pool and the roaring applause of onlookers at the Mayan temple. We discovered all the sights like archaeologists digging for artifacts, every rope bridge, beach access, and underground tunnel. The Mayan temple was impressive, imposing its architectural angles and commanding the eye to gaze up at the sixty-foot drop. So considerable was its authority, poised delicately over the pools below that it almost appeared to float circumspectly, its grandeur and stateliness emulating the original, El Castillo. Abundant on the grounds were a myriad of shark species ranging from bonnet heads, nurse, hammerheads, and reef. For me it was exciting because I love the animal that many humans have come to hate, or at least misunderstand, thanks to movies like Jaws and Deep Blue Sea. We also took the time to walk the beach and its silky soft sand, treading water and enjoying the foamy whitecaps and breakers rolling onto the shore. Using small handfuls of the slightly grainier sand we exfoliated our legs and feet for free, no salon or expensive products necessary.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

August 31, 2005
At Sea

This is the eighty-eighth voyage of discovery! Double eights! It was a beautiful sailing night departing from Nassau, and a beautiful sunset. In fact, as the Executive Dean told us, it was the best departure sailing conditions in the history of Semester at Sea, and I believe it. It feels so good to have the waves beneath me again. I slept absolutely wonderful last night, due in part to the rocking of the ship, and relief that we were finally here. The ship is fantastic; well kept, and clean, and our cabin is just perfect. After boarding yesterday morning we unpacked immediately. Three of the suitcases were waiting for us by the door and we were quite worried about the last one, although it did arrive, ironically, just as we were shoving the third empty suitcase below the bed. It seems as if everything we packed had a specific spot in the room already picked out for it and it did not take long to make the cabin a cozy little home with pictures, magnets, and, of course Terp blankets. I don’t regret packing anything that I brought, and feel like we predicted just about everything we would need. We were told tonight that one student was still missing their luggage, which happens to be a record for Semester at Sea which usually averages about forty.

As we waited for mom and dad to board yesterday, and finished unpacking in those few hours before visitor boarding, we saw a small boat glide past our window piled high with hundreds of enormous conch shells glistening pink, salmon, and peach, and it made me think about the abeng I bought from a merchant in Anse le Raye.

I have been wearing the Trans Scop patch for prevention of motion sickness since yesterday and am pleased, actually elated, to report that I have not felt sick in the least. The sea is certainly not as calm today. Last night it looked like glass, but today it is much choppier, and still I feel nothing.

Megan writes, “Switching gears, his name is Jeremy, Jeremy Kingston, and he is our Captain for the next one hundred days. He’s British, naturally, because of his accent, as he pointed out. Under his guidance we are on our way to Venezuela on an ocean that looks like marble with the sun playing off of its surface. This morning the sun announced its presence over the horizon, diffusing the water with an orangey, warm glow, like orange-juice.”

It was neat to be standing at the stern looking down at the parents on the dock and to see my own parents there (thanks to dad’s red and black tie-dyed Maryland t-shirt). We took some really great pictures of them waving to us, and I cannot wait to see the pictures they took as well. The Atlantis was a perfect backdrop for the crowd of parents following the ship to the very end of the pier waving, blowing kisses, and reminding everyone to study hard, which made quite a few of the students laugh.

There are six hundred eighty-three students aboard the MV Explorer, another record high for Semester at Sea, four hundred some girls, and two hundred some guys. I keep checking the position report on the television to see where we are and could not believe that we were nearing Cuba and Haiti already.

Lunch will begin soon and hopefully they have something besides tea or water because both taste awful. It was really strange tasting at first and I would rather have had Perrier, which I have to admit tastes like flat sewer water to me (even though I don’t know if this comparison is accurate as I have never tasted sewer water). Hopefully this gives you some sort of idea how terrible it is. Tomorrow I will probably buy some water from the snack bar.

The lifeboat drill was very long and very hot, especially because we are required to wear long pants, long sleeve shirts, and close-toed shoes. I probably could have showered six times yesterday and still I would have needed another shower. All in all it probably took half an hour.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

I initially typed this entry on a laptop due to a minor reaction from the seasickness patch – blurred vision. Objects further away appear fine; it’s the reading and writing that are difficult as the black text all seems to run together. My mouth has been unusually dry and it seems no amount of water or other beverage will saturate and engulf the arid desert forming in my throat. Hopefully it will wear off soon and I can read and write more efficiently. For now, I have taken the patch off, and if I intend to make use of these patches in the future, I will most likely cut it in half, and then half again. Other than this incident, no worries. Even though the oceanic void stretching around me in every direction, inimitable blue that it is, surges forcefully, I feel like I am on solid ground as I watch others stumble and sway at every undulation.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

September 1, 2005
At Sea

Megan and I have both been experiencing some side effects from the Trans Scop patch especially dry mouths. No matter how much we drink our mouths are still dry. Megan has been complaining of slightly blurred vision, which only happens when reading small text. When I woke up this morning I too began to have a similar problem. The sea is rough today and there is a marked increase in the level of rocking; we have even had several waves splash our window on the fourth deck. The white foam splashing chaotically off the ship is like a symphony of waves in white, blue, and turquoise. Last night we had a small thunder and lightning storm, but we still have not experienced any seasickness.

Classes began today. First we had Global Studies, a really interesting course with a great professor. His lectures are entertaining and informative and I know I will enjoy the class. We also had Anthropology of Tourism and Anthropology: Field Methods today with Professor Smyth. He likes to tell stories and is very personable. I have read everything assigned for A1, B1, A2, and B2 days, and taken some notes on the material as well. I am looking forward to learning a lot about documentation and the role of tourism that corresponds nicely with my interest in Pre-Columbian history.

Last night Megan and I removed the Trans Scop patch because we felt as if it was doing more harm than good. When I woke up this morning I was happy to discover that my mouth was no longer dry and parched, and decided to wear my sea-bands today instead of the patch. This afternoon before class I too found it difficult to read fine print. It was so strange, I could see everything else perfectly, just not the text on the page in front of me. I suppose that the active ingredient in the patch was still in effect, but everything seems to be returning too normal. We both decided that we would discontinue using the patch unless it is particularly turbulent outside, and instead sport our fashionable gray sea-bands. We also thought that we would cut the patch to a smaller size and may try that out to see how it works. I remember reading that some students have done this before, and have talked to a couple of other students who are using the patch who also report similar side effects.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

The ocean was incorrigible today, medium swells slapping the side of the ship before spraying off in various directions, sometimes visible through our window on deck four. As they rebound, the whitecaps escape, their spray producing tiny rainbows, prismatic and perfect, if only for a second.

The shop is open now and looks like a cyclone swept every shirt and sweatshirt into huge disarray. We purchased a couple articles of clothing, among them a hooded sweatshirt. Apparently they will be getting some new designs coming in shortly as well.

Heather writes, “The store seems a lot smaller than the pictures on the web portray it, and we had to wait in a line outside as only about six people were permitted to enter at a time.”

Tomorrow is laundry day, ironically Heather and I managed to hand wash the few items we had before the signs were even posted. Oh well, it wasn’t enough to justly validate a couple dollars. After our trip in Venezuela to Margarita Island perhaps we will have more and use the service.

Again Heather writes, “It seems pointless to send off a bag with four items in it, and in such close proximity to our port stay.”

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

We like eating in the Garden Lounge because it has a much better view of the sea, but have found that if you don’t arrive ten minutes early you will probably wait about twenty minutes in line. The food is decent for the most part. You can always count on cereal for breakfast, croissants, toast, scrambled eggs and bacon. Lunch usually consists of a dinner like meal, salad, soup, sometimes sandwiches, or a special theme (for example yesterday was tacos and rice) and of course there is peanut butter and jelly. For dinner, again, there is salad, and pasta, some sort of meat (a selection from the land and another from the sea) and a vegetable (which tastes much better than the vegetables at Maryland).

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

Tonight we had a pre-port lecture that lasted about an hour, very informative and enjoyable. Hopefully tonight will remain quiet, although it is the first pub night. Needless to say I am not attending. I will do some reading from the textbooks and get my “week-ahead-homework-routine” going again.

I would love to post some pictures on our weblog but there are too many cute photos for once and to choose one or two would not merely be unsatisfying but a joke. Similar to eating only one piece of chocolate, like Bomboy’s Homemade Candy, one would not be enough to diminish the appetite and please the taste buds. Hopefully, these couple will satisfy for the time being. It is off to Margarita Island in two days and I am not entirely sure of the Internet capabilities while at port. A small margin exists that I might post on September 3rd, if not after my return from the beautiful island.

Bon Voyage!

Yesterday we had a fabulous bon voyage party with family and friends, and promise to post a couple of photos, especially of the cake because it was absolutely beautiful with an old-world map and picture of the Explorer. Tomorrow we leave at 6:00 am for BWI and will arrive in Nassau in the afternoon for a day of fun at the Atlantis. Hopefully we will eat dinner at the Cafe of the Great Hall of Waters and Megan will take the leap of faith down the Mayan temple because she loves sharks so much! Heather on the otherhand will take lots and lots of pictures until Megan proves that the sharks are actually not interested in the tasty human treats passing through their tank, and of course she will admire the temple because of her interest in Precolumbian history. Tuesday morning we will board the ship and begin the adventure! We will post shortly after, so stay tuned...

Oh, one more thing! A big thank you to Karen, Teresa, and the Brooks' for your thoughtfulness, treats, and generosity.

Out of Africa

"If I know a song of Africa, of the giraffe and the African new moon lying on her back, of the plows in the fields and the sweaty faces of the coffee pickers, does Africa know a song of me? Will the air over the plain quiver with a color that I have had on, or the children invent a game in which my name is, or the full moon throw a shadow over the gravel of the drive that was like me, or will the eagles of the Ngong Hills look out for me?"

~ Karen Blixen

What beautiful scenery coats the canvas of the television screen like a fine watercolor or superb photograph. The wildlife and people seem as close to real as possible without ever really truly being real. And yet, the dramatic cinematography and extensive vistas offer a perspective of Africa and its landscape in poignant detail that is so amazingly moving we cannot wait to be surrounded by the very elements on the screen. To step through the television and enter into the savanna - the smell of warm dirt, so dry during that season that it floats into the air and coats houses, animals, skin, every surface imaginable; the blue of the sky stretching on and on and on with no end in sight; the sunset kissing the horizon, and perhaps for us one of the most anticipated, the panorama of lions, elephants, and giraffes from a hot air balloon. Watching this movie has augmented our desire to witness first hand the beauty of Kenya, and of this world. After completing the remainder of the packing, some final clothes to be ironed and folded, we will be ready to board the plane that will take us to Nassau, the M.V. Explorer, and the start of a grand adventure.

We are ready to return to school as the days in the month of August come to a close. The excitement of relating what we learn to the environment around us will be more rewarding than at our home campus. We have ordered, perhaps our final purchase for the trip, a book Megan has read in the Art Library at the University of Maryland College Park. It is by Gavin Younge, whom we will meet hopefully in South Africa called "The Art of the South African Township". Surprisingly, the Foreward to the book is written by Archbishop Desmond Tutu whom we will now have the pleasure of meeting as well. We are filled with excitement to all of the possibilities awaiting us.

Pom-pom Fiasco

Last night we made pom-pom's for our luggage in red, white, black and gold (University of Maryland colors). We will attach them to our bags so in the airport we will be able to easily spot them (We had blue and gold for our high school before and they worked perfectly). There were bits of yarn and fuzz everywhere though!!

We both packed one of our two pieces of luggage. In them are school materials, toiletries, first aid items, snacks, laundry materials, and some odds and ends. In the other rolling luggage we will pack clothes, shoes, journals, blanket and mogu pillow. The carry-ons will contain some essentials for our day in Nassau.

We relaxed at the pool this afternoon and the UV index is high today so it didn't take long to feel the effects. Neither of us can wait to be on the Explorer and our minds seem to be a circus of thoughts. For now, here is the rest of the packing ABC style...

V - vacuum sealed packing bags (We heard these work fantastic for clothes, but we'll let you know as soon as we have used them ourselves).

W - water camera (If you plan on spending anytime in the water, snorkeling or scuba diving, you should bring at least one. We have always had amazing photos from underwater adventures in the Caribbean).

X - x-tra pens (okay, so a bit of a stretch on the alphabet...but we heard they can be used in markets or trade. You can even donate them).

Y - yourself (hehe! Just don't forget your passport, yellow book, ID and anything else).

Zzzzzz...Zzzzzzz

Wake up! Are we there yet?

The confirmation for our pre-sale trips came in the mail today:
LAG03 Grand Intro to Caracas - Group A (FDP)
LAG10 Margarita Island Discovery (We've been to Isla de Margarita once, but wanted to go back)
MOM08 Four-Day Safari to Maasai Mara
MOM09 Hot Air Balloon Ride
CHE26 Delhi/Agra/Taj Mahal - Group B


Ten days till Bon Voyage Party!!

Twelve Days of Packing

S - sunscreen (SPF 30 for your face. Might seem like a bit much but the anti-malarial medication could affect your sensitivity to the sun).

T - towel (Because you cannot remove your cabin towels you should think about bringing one, as well as a washcloth).

U - umbrella (For precipitation less than cats and dogs).

T Minus Two Weeks

We have finally started loading our suitcases and pulling out all of the things we have bought for the trip since October.

P - ponchos (The disposable kind for when it rains cats and dogs, flannel or any other form of precipitation).

Q - q-tips (Huh? What did you say? Supposedly clean ears help maintain equilibrium which is key to avoiding sea-sickness).

R - red Terp blanket (Go Terps! Bring something from your home university like a beach towel or blanket. We are not bringing a sleeping bag but decided our Terp sweatshirt blankets would be perfect for sleeping on deck).

ABC's Continued

Today we are going to BJs to pick up some of the last items on our list, a couple of snacks and rajor blades. After this all we have left is one or two things from Target and makeup from Clinique. Later if the weather is still nice, and being as hot and humid as it is, we will relax at the pool.

M - magnets (If the walls really are as magnetic as they say they are...bring LOTS! Also bring a lot of pictures of friends and family).

N - neosporin (Going back to the idea of a good "pharmacy" while on the voyage. Better safe than sorry).

O - overnight bag (For all of your trips into the port city. It could be your carry-on luggage as well).

Suitcase Army

Being from the University of Maryland College Park, we purchased large, red, duffel suitcases that roll on wheels for easy transportation (Maryland's colors of red, black, gold, and white). We have pom-poms made for them as well so they will not be hard to miss when picking up luggage in the airport terminal. With two red suitcases, two black, and two red carry-on bags an army of formidable force has taken over the basment, study, and bedrooms. As they slowly accumulate more inside of them with the folding of clothes and organization of toiletries, school supplies, and other items they are becoming giants. Rolling them through BWI and Nassau will be quite a battle.

J - journals (You guessed it!! What else would "J" be? If you love writing like us pack plenty. Our journals are made from recycled banana, coffee paper, and adinkra cloth).

K - Kubler (Okay, we admit, "K" was not on our packing list, except George Kubler's "The Shape of Time" and respectively we thought this would be an ingenious method of introducing a "pack-ahead" idea, sort of like just-add-water. Think about what types of material you have utilized on your home campus and if there is one, or two, that you find yourself returning too often, think about bringing it along, especially if you are taking classes where it might be beneficial. For papers all you will have to do is just add the information. Kubler is perfect for us because we are non-western art history majors and the text is only 150 pages in paperback. We also photocopied several articles by Olu Oguide, Kwame Anthony Appiah and Uche Okeke, among others. Even if we don't use them, they are fun to read).

L - labels (small round labels will come in handy for your many purchases in port. Once you wrap and pack the item the small label can be used to write on what and where the piece came from, possibly for whom you bought the gift as well. Our grandparents used this method and it has helped us identify where the pieces came from years later).

Getting Closer

G - ginger pills (You guessed it!!! As long as it is ginger, anything goes. Ginger ale and ginger pills but don't forget sea-bands, dramamine, and prescription patches for sea sickness are also a good idea).

H - highlighters (A necessity for class and study).

I - Immodium (Only thing on the six page packing list that begins with "I" and having a good "pharmacy" of medication for any occasion is ideal).

D...E...F...initely Excited

On with the packing tips...

D - disposable toothbrushes (Great for the two-five day trips into the port cities and countries and easy enough to throw into the trash at the conclusion. Any extras you could easily donate to an orphanage closer to the end of the voyage. Keeping those pearly whites clean is a must).

E - extra memory sticks (Digital camera food...what can we say, your camera needs to eat something and without them storing your pictures would be down the drain).

F - flashlight (Good for a variety of purposes in dark situations...on deck, in the jungle, or on a safari. Things always seem much brighter with a little light to guide the way).

Merry Packing!

ABC's of Packing

With nineteen days before we depart for Nassau and Atlantis the packing list is finalized!!! In an attempt to stimulate and help others who might happen to come across this weblog, every couple of days we will post three items we have included on our packing list. So here goes...

A - antibacterial hand sanitizing wipes (We bought Purell, but we're sure there are other brands. This will certainly come in handy on field programs into the countries and any not so clean circumstances we may encounter).

B - bug spray (The Travel Clinic at the University of Maryland suggests a product with a high percentage of deet.)

C - chargers (For all electronic devices including but not limited to digital cameras, dell dj or ipod, and laptop).

Countdown to Bon Voyage Party - 17 Days :)

A Bad Day at the Beach...

Beats A Good Day at Home!!! Well...actually the weather was not even condusive for relaxing and basking in the rays of the sun. Regardless, just being near the water was nice. Suffolk, Virginia is close to all the entertainment and activities imaginable. From Virginia Beach, navy ships, crepe myrtle trees lining every street blossoming in pink, salmon, lavender and white, and the biggest Cheesecake Factory we've every seen!! Our cousin, Shannon, moved into a townhouse that is situated in the most beautiful area, with golf course, pool and a Coldstone Creamery shop right around the corner. Vanilla with chocolate chips, brownie, and cookie dough comes highly recommended!! As Shannon was apt to point out about the weather, it was raining "flannel."

flannel (flan'el) n. a rain heavier than when it is raining sheets and brought on by humidity; heavy woolen material; a soft cotton cloth but lighter in weight

Unfortunately the only picture we took during the weekend was the first day with the two of us (outsides) and our cousin Ashley (middle) as we sat together in the car during our grand tour.

Depending on the weather we might go to Ocean City this weekend where our family has a condo and spend a couple of days at the beach.

The Calm Before The Storm

"A life well lived is not measured in the accumulation of things, but in unparalleled experiences," an ad in our favorite magazine Caribbean Travel & Life states, and we fully agree. Almost down to one month before going "Around the World in 100 Days" as the probably almost too cliched aphorism goes. Regardless, with one month left the looming reality of packing and purchasing last minute items still does not loudly, and with certainty, answer the question. Are we really going? Is this happening?

"Yes!" we want to shout again, and again, and again to anyone who will listen, anyone not slightly dulled from continuous talk on our exploits and upcoming adventures. Some people have asked, "How was your trip? That boat trip cruise you went on?" We without pause, or hesitation, begin rambling about our recent cruise in January for 14 days in the Southern Caribbean. They listen attentively and interrupt to inquire about how the classes went or how long we stayed at each place before we realize they were actually talking about Semester at Sea. Of course, at this point we dutifully remind them that we have not even left yet.

What seems most intriguing to us is the idea of experience. How do you relate experience? The job of a writer, or writers in our case, is to describe, illustrate and paint a clear image of the places and people we shall meet - a sunset on the ocean where the sun melts into the horizon and infuses the water with an orange glow, the touch of sand, either velvety soft or thick and porous pottage like oatmeal that you could eat with a fork, or a woman at market selling mangosteen and jackfruit whose smile is so pleasant you are attracted to buy only her merchandise. But how do you catch something that lasts in a moment in time? Like a seal escaping the jaws of a great white in the ring of death around seal island or that first sip of tea at a ceremony that slightly burns your tongue?

Our grandmother would certainly concur with the quote. When our grandparents were alive they traveled to over 79 countries, a number we hope to beat and after covering about 2/3 of the major inhabited Caribbean islands and parts of the United States and London, England, this trip will certainly put us well on our way at a very young age. Our grandfather passed away in 2000, but our grandmother's death Friday, May 13, 2005 makes this trip even more sad and special at the same time. Two parallel emotions that will ground us throughout our journey. A good friend of hers, Walter Gross wrote a poem to commemorate her 60th birthday years ago and we would like to cite a portion:

She's been to Europe, Africa, and parts of the Pacific
She's cruised the Caribbean, and Alaska was terrific!
She's seen the land down under, and the mountain high above it;
Offer her another trip - she's bound to say "I'd love it!"

She has climbed the Eiffel Tower, she has seen the Berlin Wall,
And the Palace of the Kremlin, where the czars had their last fall,
The windmills by the Zuider Zee, the cross-marked Norman beaches,
The fiords of Scandinavia, the Danube's flowing reaches,

St. Peter's and the Vatican and all the sights of Rome,
The cities of the Renaissance, the Alps and Jungfrau's dome,
The Dover cliffs, the London Bridge, the Scottish moors and heather,
The shamrocks 'cross the Irish Sea, Bermuda's bright blue weather!

She has walked the Wall of China and boated up the Nile,
She has gazed on Fujiyama from Honshu's terraced isle;
She has seen the flamenco dancers in the heart of gypsy Spain
And traced the steps of Jesus up the narrow Street of Pain.

We find some comfort knowing that she passed with the knowledge that we were going on this trip. When we first presented this opportunity to her she cried. Traveling meant so much in their lives, and the stories of their trips meant so much in ours. We know they will be with us, especially Nana whose cremated remains will hang on a golden chain and keepsake urn that is no larger than a fingernail. Several times people have said, "I like your necklace" and we say, "Thank you, it's our grandmother." It is her experiences, her travels that have created this legacy. Here's to the calm before the storm.

P.S. And no fifty-foot waves :)

Tying up Loose Ends

Finally it seems as if everything is coming together. We will be receiving the last of the shots sometime within the next two weeks for meningitis and have filled all of our prescriptions for the trip including ginger pills and sea bands in addition to the motion sickness patch and anti-malarial medication. Our classes are confirmed and we have chosen all of our field programs, which we will update again when they are finally confirmed as well. We are very excited and it seems like we still have such a long time to wait and a lot of preparation to complete; for which two heads are definitely better than one, not to mention the myriads of help and advice from friends and family, all in all perhaps a dozen heads or more. Not to worry as Nana would say! We will be taking five courses onboard (Anthropology of Tourism, Anthropology: Field Methods, Geography which is of course required for the entire student body, Travelers' Journals, and hopefully we will be able to sign up for the Introduction to Art History during the drop/add period.) The packet of field programs and requirements is quite long, but we received it on Thursday, and have since then picked what we hope to do in each port, and will mail that tomorrow. Perhaps the biggest chore is yet to come - PACKING. We have compiled an extensive list and it seems to only get longer as we continually add forgotten items of necessity...i.e. sunscreen, sunglasses, and clothes pins; just to name a few. It won't be long now, but we will update a few more times before our departure. Stay tuned!

OUCH!!!

We knew this day would come back on October 8, 2004 when we applied for Semester at Sea. SHOTS!!! At the University of Maryland, College Park, the Health Center staff at the Travel clinic were absolutely faabulous! Dr. Perry spoke with us about all the precautions and travel tips for each port and what shots we would need. Megan seemed to have missed that part of the discussion though because as we sat outside the immunization room waiting she thought we were only going in to get our typhoid vaccination pills!!! Imagine her surprise when she asked why we had to wait so long for a box of four pills. "We are getting Hep A," Heather said. Of course, we had to go back the next day to get yellow fever. The only advice we can offer from the whole ordeal is... if you are not comfortable with shots in general, sing the alphabet!!!