For every country we are traveling to, there is a pre-port scheduled the night before arrival for the entire shipboard community. This pre-port is filled with logistics and information for the country we will be in. The medical team always presents on the medical issues in that county. We have decided to make each presentation fun .... because why shouldn't we? For Ghana, Malaria was the major topic of concern. A group of the faculty and staff on board came together to produce the show. It was so much fun acting like a fool.
Beautiful mounds of spices abound. Little scoops. Little baggies. I was in heaven.
I am such a fan of this place. Something very deep, normal, real and strange has happened to me on both of my trips to Morocco. I can only assume I spent a past life connected in some way to this area of the world and these people. Needless to say, although I didn't leave Casablanca but one day (due to being on call for the ship), I had a fantastic experience. Things seemed to just work & easily feel into place. I really think I approve.
One of the nicest shop owners I met.
Stop.
Imagine the dinner party you could have with all these as appetizers?!
Pervasive Coke.
Scene from my little Moroccan hole-in-the-wall cafe.
Remember the Incredible Edible Egg? Well, recently it's been more a case of the Inedible Egg, with half a BILLION eggs recently recalled due to salmonella poisoning. That's right. Half a billion. YUCK!!
Rocky Rohwedder (Sustainable Communities) & Daniel Ferguson (Global Music)
I'm now 32 years old. Or at least that's what 11:59 on September the 16th told me. I thought a lot that day about what part of me is actually 32?
My mind sure isn't. My lifestyle sure isn't. My body (mostly) sure isn't. My attitude sure isn't. My marriage status sure isn't. My outlook sure isn't. My soul sure isn't.
With all this in mind and no answer in sight, my birthday seemingly felt less and less important.
Thus, already not being a super birthday celebrator myself, this day felt no different.
Unlike any other BD I've ever experienced, I was sailing in the middle of the ocean with a day bunkered at the Canary Islands. This was the distinguishing factor. Otherwise, the day was ordinary except for my attempt to hide from all the BD wishes.
Nothing is sad about this statement, I just have never felt attached to my age & secretly despise attention in these types of situations. Despite my pleas, friends aboard the MV Explorer decided it was best to 'still' throw me a party -- a "Stephanie Party" they called it. Oddly, another Stephanie on board was also born on this very day.
Everyone that came was meant to dress up as their "favorite Stephanie" -- i.e. Stephanie Tanner from Full House -- or just a Stephanie, in general.
Interesting approach.
Fortunately, this ship is filled with talented musicians who were kind enough to play and entertain everyone for the night. Overall, it was great bc it was low-key....much more my speed than some would have liked!
BD over! 1 more year before I have to fake excitement again.
Ken & Grace Newberger at my party. They too are from Mississippi!
...and I thought I was doing good just to remember 'carne'!
My friend Brent emailed that day to ask me what I had learned. “What have you learned today?” somehow posed threat in an email; what if I hadn’t learned anything yet and it was already 6:00?! A moment passed where nothing easily came to my mind. I searched in vain (in typical over-analytical fashion) to withdraw some major lesson from the happenings of that day in the streets of Cadiz. Had I simply floated through the last 24 hours with my guard down and my eyes hidden? Maybe I had.
…Or maybe I hadn’t. Let’s be optimistic here --
I would like to believe the days in Spain filtered through my world to teach me RHYTHM. Yes, that’s what I’ll settle on. Rhythm = My Spanish Lesson. It was less the lesson I learned and more they rhythm that I felt. The rhythm of 4 hour long, lingering lunches like I shared with new friends on the first day in port; the rhythm of late nights … and then late mornings spent without much guilt; the rhythm of a small breakfast and large lunch that felt like it made so much more sense; the rhythm of long, restorative siestas in the afternoon --- and going with the flow when plans suddenly changed. It was all about the rhythm in Spain: My perspective shifted.
Cadiz streets are awesome!
gambas!
My first step off the boat filled me with memories of docking in this very place only 14 short months ago. It was my first port on my first voyage with Semester at Sea: Summer ’09. The ‘me’ that stepped off the boat back then feels slightly different than the ‘me’ that stepped off the boat this time; Time has changed me. I was familiar with this place; it felt nice and comfortable to start off in a place that was ‘different’…but ‘easy’. Viva Espana!
My first order of business was to buy a bus ticket for early the next morning. Ronda was my destination because there was a feria and a bullfight that I was intent on going to. Despite all my ethical hesitations, I had to know for myself what it was like. An also inquisitive student and I were willing to make the 4 hour bus trip just to see this Spanish iconic event live with out own eyes.
Naively assuming that little in Cadiz had changed in the time I had been gone, I walked 30 minutes around the port to where I distinctly remembered the bus station being. How pompous I felt when I realized the bus station had temporarily relocated directly across from where we were docked! – back at where I had just come from. I jumped off our boat in my own rhythm, ignorant of the rhythm of change happening in my absence. As Alexander Pope said: Some people will never learn anything, for this reason, because they understand everything too soon.I shook my head in shame at how little of my surroundings I was actually seeing. This was not travel. My mind was not in the present.
My virgin hitch-hiking moment.
In the end, we missed our bus the next morning and never made it to the bullfight. But, if I HAD made that bus, I never would have felt the rhythm of going with the flow & trusting that everything always works out in the end. I needed to be shaken up a bit to bring me into the moment, to show me all the things possible outside of what I had planned. The student and I probably broke all unwritten SAS rules because we subsequently tried our damndest at hitch-hiking to the town 4 hours away, still determined to see the fight. It was a hilarious morning, even if it was a massive FAIL!
We missed our bus. We never were picked up. We missed the fight. But I had a great time in Spain! My own rhythm took over after the disappointing morning and I quickly found my feet again.
Already, I had communicated with a wonderful woman I met on www.workaway.info that was in need of help in her home/garden in exchange for accommodation and meals. This is similar to the other WHOOF experiences I’ve had, so I was keen to experience Spain in this way. I felt very positive about this lady – sight unseen –after all of her efforts to help me sort out getting to the bullfight before arriving to her house. I spent 3 wonderful days at the home of an ex-travel writer-come thoroughly well traveled –come speaker of 5 languages come ex-actress in Europe and the US –come palmist –come real estate broker – come Moroccan vacationer – come blah blah blah…..She was really great & needless to say, I quickly was drawn into the rhythm of her world, which surprisingly was similar to my own.
Sunset at Feria in Conil
queso y queso!
In exchange for helping her transfer movies to disc and fill sand snakes for drafts around her door, I was privy to life in a small Spanish community, mostly untouched by tourist influence and anyone other than Spaniards and other Europeans on vacation. I enjoyed most her infinite role as cultural broker for me: teaching me about buying wild baby rabbits from the grocer around the corner, how difficult real estate transactions happen in Spain, pointing out all the local homes and teaching me who lives where and the connections between everyone. We walked around the corner to buy organic produce and eggs from the neighboring farmer and cuts of fresh cheese from the shop on the next street over. The community was directly on the coast so the constant breeze from the Atlantic Ocean made sleeping at night with the windows open about as beautiful as the sheer act of napping each day during siesta. We enjoyed gin & tonics at night and fresh salads during the day. She taught me about all-things-Spanish and encouraged me tremendously to pursue my travel writing … plus showed me how! I ate local olive oil which made my toes curl!! & watched surfers on the windswept beach from the feria grounds we visited.I felt the rhythm of the village as I languidly wandered in the market and easily waited in line at the post office. I felt the rhythm of the day by following the lead as to when she ate and when she slept – all on the Spanish schedule. I also felt the rhythm of not ever rushing because in Spain, there always felt like time was never the issue. More than anything, I enjoyed the rhythm of just going with the flow. Life always seems to take you to where you need to be.
My "semester" at Sea is now 2 weeks in & I'm already swept away with the intensity of the experience, people, all the lessons to be learned and the impending imprint this will leave on my life. Despite my stream-of-consciousness below, I am grateful and thankful to be offered this journey AGAIN!
If only to be honest with myself, I must admit that I was a bit hesitant to re-board the MV Explorer for a second time. By 'hesitant', I really mean 'thoughtful', 'aware', and 'considerate'. My experience last summer was unbelievably memorable &.... intense...Almost too intense for me to ever want to replicate it. The people, the memories, the emotions and the life-lessons all culminated into a thrilling but emotionally draining summer. In other words, I loved it!! and it was exactly as it should have been. But, somewhere in me, I was almost convinced that SAS memories should simply remain memories and I should move on with my life.
All that said, I was hyper-aware that my expectations would be high (and therefore I could easily be let down), several key people would not be traveling with me this time (thus I would be left open to the possibility of not finding similarly important friendships), there would be very little actual pay involved again (but the experience is priceless) and since I was partly hired to be the 'experienced' one, I could easily fail on knowing all-things-medical onboard. All of this meant that the newness & wonderment of 'the first time' wouldn't be there. And, admittedly so, after all the thrills and travel my life has seen in the last ten years, this exact wonderment might be what I would subconsciously need.
Another aspect of my hesitancy was not knowing how I'd react or what I would think or how I would work- on a full ship, a contained space!- with almost 1,500 people in my face (or that was my fear of how it would feel). Not to mention, be in a position where 'everyone knows my name' (think Cheers), which would mean there would be so little anonymity. These points felt extremely emphasized after spending a year so remotely, so intensely ... so solo! Looking back, I learned deep, hard, wonderful lessons of what it meant to be in this world on my own; Was I crazy to immediately jump from one extreme to the other?
Ultimately, all this meant that agreeing to this voyage was a bit of a personal gamble.
Yet, somewhere amongst all my over-analytical thoughts, I couldn't let myself pass up the opportunity. In my weathered journal from last year, there lives a list ( I heart lists). I refer to this list often to keep myself on track. Soon after I was offered the position again by Dr. Chris Tonozzi, I opened my journal and there lie my answer. 'To do a Full Semester voyage with Semester at Sea'. So here I am: albeit sooner than I ever thought, but nonetheless excited and so glad I listened to my journal and not my head.
Only 17 Days into the trip and with it means 17 new things ...
Dr. Milt
The community onboard is already tightly forming and the ship is now the 'home' I look to. As Dr. Milt Waldron eloquently taught me: "Even if you never left the ship & there were never any countries to visit, this would STILL be the best experience of your life."
ALREADY (really?) I have formed some real connections with a some interesting people....mostly students, which is quite satisfying because it means there is a strong possibility of mentoring during the voyage which deeply thrills me.
I'm learning to play poker (Texas Hold 'Em style)! (My ultimate goal is to combine this with drinking scotch on the rocks...just to remain classy, of course.)
I've already made a complete ass of myself by acting as a terrible rapper and an uncoordinated flamenco dancer in front of the entire shipboard community. The goal was to portray a 'fun' Medical Team; somehow-luckily, we've persuaded the majority! (i think)
I'm pretty much convinced that having my own cabin on this voyage (unlike the last) is all I needed for my mental health.
I'm adjusted better than I ever thought I'd be. There definitely have been moments -- moments where I have hidden in my cabin for hours at a time dreaming of Mississippi ... i.e. my bed, my dog, the garden, my family, not traveling. The first of these moments was the first time I realized how little room I gave myself for the situational change from remote Australia to jam-pack ship. I now am much kinder to myself and learned I needed to leave room to hibernate in the beginning. But I am OK. And happy.
I got to spend 1.5 weeks sailing the Atlantic with Dr. Milt Waldron, the MD I worked with last summer. In some strange, unforeseen way, he is like my grandfather. And, since I never really had one, I love the relationship.
I've been in 3 countries in 2 weeks.
When I landed in Spain, it meant I had completed my 7th crossing of the ocean in the last 1.5 years! (boat & plane, Atlantic & Pacific)
I've now spent 17 days of my life living with Archbishop Desmond Tutu. crazy.
Classes are some of the greatest joys of my day: Childbirth & Fetal Abnormalities, Drawing, Global Studies & now I'm also considering adding Travel Writing.
I'm really excited that I'm here! Despite the drowsy, sea-sick, long voyage across, I've hit my stride and feel happy and comfortable in this role.
My old passport is retired and my new one is officially open for business.
Potatoes and pasta at every meal = eating Vegetarian on SAS = +++ kcals!
Some of the people who surround me daily: 20 year vet of Secret Service, a multiple-times recipient of Fulbright Fellowships, multiple Peace Corp volunteers, a whole family from Madrid, a guy knighted by the King of Spain, an expert on Cantonese Opera, a guy who quit his job/sold everything he had in Tokyo and is now traveling for a year around the world, a spine surgeon, a mother-daughter team, professional actresses/actors....and that is just a few! I'm so inspired and impressed.
Do I really need my bed made everyday by the cabin stewards?
I have yet even more reason to love my short hair: Life is so much easier when you live on a windy boat!
Alas...TIME is not what I've had this week, so postings have almost come to a halt. This was not the intention, but unfortunately the outcome of a sea-sick, un-routinized, drowsy week sailing across the Atlantic. Life is coming together in many forms, though, & soon there will be reports of it all. In the meantime, watch this wonderfully produced video by our Production Team to understand more "what Semester at Sea is all about".
Together, best-selling author Sue Monk Kidd (The Secret Life of Bees) and her daughter Ann Kidd Taylor recount their journeys to Greece and France as they navigate through life's phases: one entering adulthood, the other entering menopause. Both wrote alternating chapters in this memoir, which was a nice way to read about the experiences because "there is always two sides to every coin"...not to mention, this is how I envision Elizabeth & I writing our book.
A recurring theme is the myth of Demeter and her daughter Persephone, in which Persephone is abducted to the underworld (eats pomegranate seeds) and eventually reunites with her mother. As the real-life mother and daughter visit archaeological sites from that story and others, each relic and icon they visit becomes infused with personal meaning. For example, the Virgin Mary comes to symbolize hope for the mother. She prays to a black Mary icon in a church in Crete for encouragement to write fiction and after The Secret Life of Bees was published, she returned to the same Mary and offered a pot of honey as an offering.
The book lacked much plot and focused more on heavy introspection as they both were navigating the waters of growing closer in their relationship as adults. Also, the two writing styles were starkly different; Ann Kidd Taylor's being much more easier to read for me.
Probably wouldn't recommend it! (sorry, Jill! :)
Maybe it is a feminine thing, I don't know -- but whenever I've managed to find new consciousness and renewals of my work, my relationships and myself, it has been by going down into what seemed like a holy dark. p. 77
I sit on the stone ledge as depression floods in. I try to hold myself there, to not jump up and take more pictures, to not run away. I remember when I was around nine, playing rodeo in the ocean waves with my brother, straddling a raft, and how a large wave unexpectedly knocked me off and shoved me under. Before I could surface, another wave pushed me down, then another. But this is not a game. This is my life. The darkness tunneling back and back. p. 82
Journeying is the predominant means of developing one's self in this culture, not the habitation of place. It has been true of me. Always the seeker. Yet at this phase of my life, when I look at my house at the edge of the marsh, I want to learn how to be in it. I want to behave like a finder as much as a seeker. The irony is that I had to go on an elaborate journey to figure this out. So much of my growing older seems to be about paradoxes. The reconciliation of opposites. The bringing to balance. p. 121
She has been the keeper of home for me, and I have been the keeper of the journey for her. And now we look for the lost portion in each other. p. 123
The old woman I shall become will be quite different from the woman I am now. Another I is beginning. p. 143
Hi there, my name is Stephanie ( + Jane, to some) and Collected Consciousness is where I write about what intersects with my life, travels and everyday interests. Often this takes the form of stories or photographs, recipes or projects. However, I am not committed to only these categories, as I’m quite open and expectant of unforeseen inspiration. I like the fact that this site is where my friends and family can easily connect with me when I am “away”, which is most of the time. Thank you for the support and enjoy!
Where In the World is SJ?
In Atiak, Uganda working at a Birth Center as a Midwife until October 2013.
