the island of dodos, sugar, and rain

I took this picture just as we pulled into port at Mauritius.



We had been told there was a chance of rain, but of course we were hopeful. With only eight hours in paradise, we had to be. This was our "Spring Break", our one day in paradise.

And then the rain started.

We were drenched before we left the port. Thick, heavy, warm monsoon rain that there was no avoiding. A damp taxi ride later, we arrived outside the Natural History Museum, my one must-do in Mauritius. Shabby and worn down, at least it was completely free and a place to escape from the rain, with the main attraction at the back.



A dodo bird skeleton! There was a partial one, as well as a complete one, I think the only one in existence; a whole room devoted to this dumpy, flightless bird that symbolizes the destruction powers of humanity and the island we were visiting for one day.

Dawn and I were originally planning on paragliding, but because of the rain and potential thunder and lightening this didn't happen. We spent most of our time on a public beach, where we consumed one of the best sandwiches I've ever had and a bottle of rum. In India you eat curry, in Japan sushi- in Mauritius you try the rum, even if you buy it at a convenience store and gag when trying to drink it straight. We were very careful about finishing it early enough so that it would be out of our systems before returning back to the ship.



We swam in the ocean, determined not to let the rain ruin our beach day. A damp bus ride later, we explored Port Louis before trudging back to the ship. It felt incredible to put on warm, dry clothes after being wet for eight hours.

- - -

Mauritius gave me a rash. I was itchy yesterday since we arrived on the ship, and I woke up this morning with red spots all over my body. A benadryl, a visit to the medical clinic, and a shot of steroids later, it has faded, but with the consequences of all the drugs in my body I basically slept sitting up through all my classes this morning.

We're heading towards South Africa, but there's a lot of planning to do, as well as a few essays to write.

endless

"The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever." - Jacques Yves Cousteau

how/why I shaved off all my hair

I can tell my perfect haircut because if I ever time-traveled back to medieval times, I could disguise myself as a boy. This has been my judge of when my hair is too long for the past seven or so years. Needless to say, it was time for a change.



Yesterday was Neptune Day, when we crossed the equator, a right of passage. My roommate and I woke early, and I felt like it was Christmas - I was ready to go, the anticipation was bubbling over. As I ate breakfast, a cacophony of drums drifted in from inside. The parade of King Neptune (my lovely astronomy professor painted green) and his royal court paraded around the ship before arriving on the pool deck.



My acting professor performed the script with an appropriate amount of gusto as he explained how we were to be put to the test, to be transformed from land-dwelling pollywogs into sea-loving emerald shellbacks. The heat, even in the early morning, was thick.

We waited, holding the sweaty hands of my friends (I had this realization of yes, my closest friends, as I stood with them). They were almost more excited than I was for my hair to be gone. We had "fish guts" dumped on our heads, leaped into the pool, kissed a fish and King Neptune's jeweled hand, and then were knighted as shellbacks, with full permission to pass through Neptune's domain.



Soaking wet and sweating, I went to stand in the mass of crowd that was the hair-shaving station, while they went to squeeze their way to the front to take pictures. Needless to say, I'm grateful they were willing to document this, for I had no desire to worry about my camera when the whole deck was wet and gross.



Eventually I made it to the front, and they began hacking away. I was handed a chunk of my hair and stared at the damp gold in my hands, allowing myself one final moment of appreciating the colour, then throwing it in the trash bin.



I wasn't overly nervous or scared as they pulled out the razor- in my mind my hair was already gone the moment I woke up that morning. It was just happening.



Then it was done. I stood up and the crowd cheered. There were a large number of boys who shaved their heads, but also a handful of girls. My friends and I pushed our way out of the crowd. Friends kept touching my head, I had people approach me to hug me, high-five me. My on-ship mom said I could be a nun.

The music was ear-splitting, the heat nearly unbearable, and the deck was soaking, but we danced in our bikinis and damp clothes and bare feet until they turned the music off and kicked everyone off the pool deck.



It wasn't even noon.

- - -

Some girls screamed as they shaved off their hair. I didn't. Maybe because I had already detached myself from my hair emotionally, and I had been thinking about this decision for a long time.

I had an argument with someone earlier in the voyage that hair could be considered a "material possession". I had this worry that I might depend on my short, burnt-gold hair for my identity. I thought, "What if I didn't have my hair? What if that familiar aspect of my identity was gone? Would I still appreciate what I look like?" My extended thought was, "If God took away something I truly loved, maybe my ability to walk or swim, who would I be then?" This just feels like a miniscule experiment in "If I changed everything about who I am, who am I?" In World Religions class, we talk about the part of the soul called atman in Eastern religions, the part of the soul that remains eternal, what makes it essentially that particular soul.

In just the short 24 hours I have been sans-hair, I have recieved many compliments. However, I have yet to see someone on the ship who I wouldn't pay the exact same compliment to. You can see bone structure, smiles become larger, the eyes become hugely prominent. It doesn't change who you are, just the focus.

People keep calling my decision "brave". I think it was an act of trust- trusting in God's creation of my beauty, and trusting in myself who remain strong in who I am, regardless of physical appearance.

know one, know none

India felt like whiplash.

For my travels with India, I was traveling with a SAS field program to Varanasi, Agra, and Delhi. If you recall, I was slightly frustrated with my experience in China, and I feel it was good that I was mentally prepared for this frustration. This was the tour bus experience when I would rather be walking the streets, staying in five star hotels when I would rather be in hostels, feeling safe and comforted rather than challenged.

We stayed in these incredible hotels with large walk-in showers and ridiculous buffets and then would get in our air-conditioned bus and drive by fields of people living under tarps and those begging for a living.

I felt... guilty? frustrated? I know I prayed that I wasn't the only SAS student on this trip (there were about 60 of us) who noticed this disconnection. I certainly don't want to speak ill of my peers, who, for the most part, are remarkably bright and lovely people, but some of them have a ridiculous amount of money. They don't seem to able to pause to realize that we were in INDIA, of course the travel isn't going to be hassle free and it might smell kind of bad. It's INDIA.

I forced down my frustrations by promising myself that one day I will return to India, and next time, I will do it properly.

- - -

Varanasi. The Mother Ganges.



The Holy City.

I had heard about Varanasi during the Hinduism class I took last semester, and this was probably what I was looking forward the most to from India. For some reason, I just felt such an incredible draw to the place. If I had to do it again, I think I would spend all 6 days there.

You can feel Varanasi. The spirituality of the place leaks out of its cobblestones.

I didn't get a lot of good photos, we spent most of our time there on boats on the river during the waxing and waning hours of the day, but Krista, the voyage photographer, did get a wonderful one of me, lost in contemplation. I'll do my best to get it from her.

Right, so we got to see the evening aarti ceremony, that happens every night on the bank of the Ganges. We were late and missed the really cool part where the priests do the ritual with flaming torches, but I calmed myself by knowing that I'll see it when I come back.



You can't see really well in the photo, but there were tens of boats on the river, filled with mostly tourists, as locals gathered on the steps.

Some of the other SAS students were brave enough to touch the holy river itself. That's the thing about the Ganges- it's arguably the holiest place in Hinduism, but because it's so sacred it is believed by many that it is impossible for it to be polluted. However, cremations feet away from the river happen daily. People bathe in the river, sewage is dumped in the river, some dead bodies deemed unfit for cremation for whatever reason are just set adrift. It's the paradox that is the river. We were advised not to touch it, but some students did. I didn't. Not because I was grossed out, but because... I felt I hadn't earned it? I wasn't ready? Perhaps so I can save it for when I return.

On our way there and back, we passed by the cremations. The ghats. The piles of wood and colorfully wrapped body.

I had this thought - if Burma asked me what I would die for, India reminded me that I will indeed die one day.



Processing all this, I had a surprising revelation- I want to be baptized. I haven't been as an adult (I explained this to some of my Christian friends back on the ship, and my Catholic friend looked quite shocked), and I've never really felt the desire to. But something in Varanasi made me realize I think I'm finally ready. I need to pray about it.

- - -



I went to this place too. It was pretty cool.

Actually, I think the coolest part was the bit you don't see on postcards- the actual tomb inside. Two small, white marble coffins in the middle of this massive structure. The echo inside was incredible.

- - -

We went to a bunch of other monuments and famous places in Agra, but my frustrations with SAS trips continued- because I didn't do the research and legwork myself to really understand the significance of the place, I didn't remember any of it. I have bunch of pretty pictures, but they feel shallow to me.

- - -

Our last day in Delhi we had our first real free time.

I took off with three friends I made on the trip to find a market- we had rupees to spend. We wandered and found what we were looking for (a couple sweet head bands for me along with an awesome knock-off t-shirt... I wanted a Shiva statue, but I guess that will have to wait for next time too), and then attempted to head back to the hotel before it got too late. We were advised that girls not be out on the streets past nine.

We passed an enormous Sikh temple, and I paused by the entry. We had just done our unit on Sikhism in my Religions class before disembarking, so I was eager to look inside. I convinced my group for five minutes.

Almost an hour later, we untied the bright yellow handkerchiefs from our heads, put our shoes back on, and took a picture with our enthusiastic Sikh guide.

I've never had so much respect for another religion, not even with my recent fascination with Hinduism- at this temple, they feed 10,000 people a day. We got a tour of the kitchen- all the potential health code violations made me wince- but STILL- 10,000 people! Every day! And it's run by volunteers.

I've been thinking more and more about the quote my religions professor told us on the first day,

"Those that know one, know none."

- - -

I felt good to return to the ship. I'm ready for some routine.

This will be our longest stretch on the ship since crossing the ocean. The students have been complaining, 6 whole days of school?! Without a new country to explore? We might go crazy.

I'll do my best to write once more before Mauritius.

sailing home

Today is our 57th day on the voyage, meaning we have officially passed
the halfway mark on the Spring 2014 Voyage. There no longer is a
seemingly impossible stretch of days before us, but the same amount as
behind us.

Someone said the other day that we are no longer sailing away, but we
are sailing home. I was shocked momentarily by this but also greatly
comforted. When my flight landed in Yangon I had this moment of
realizing how incredible it will feel when my plane touches down in
Toronto. Home. I never thought I would miss feet of snow, the kind of
cold that hurts your lungs, and Tim Hortons (Mom, if there could be a
maple dip doughnut waiting for me at the airport that would be awesome).

I spent three hours outside today with a friend of mine, in our bikinis,
soaking up the sunshine. Both the reading and sun were a wonderful break
from school work. I just keep forgetting how my body isn't adjusted to
this equatorial sun- I'm burnt again. My previous burns have since
turned into golden tan, a colour I've only seen after weeks of summer
camp, so I know I only have to wait a few days for the painful stinging
red to fade. Doesn't make it any less annoying though.

We arrive in India tomorrow. I have something super exciting planned for
tomorrow, but I'll hold off on sharing until it plays out (hopefully).
The day after tomorrow I'm leaving at 3:45 AM for a flight to northern
India.

India was the country I always said I was the most excited for- I know
it won't be easy, emotionally, or with my travel schedule, certainly not
physically. These countries always seem to loom like mountains before
me, but then when I get up close it's just the reality of taking one
step after another until I reach the summit.

bagan pics

I didn't pack a lot to Bagan, even taking out a day's worth of clothes so I could pack my long camera lens (no regrets). This also meant the below shirt was basically brown with dirt by the time we got back to the ship. My friend Francesca did capture this awesome picture though... We joked it could be an ad for Semester at Sea.



The tacky hat I'm wearing I bought proudly in Vietnam and it gave me a strange sense of confidence in Burma. Also I didn't shower a lot so it was perfect for hiding unwashed, sweaty hair. I did have multiple young Burmese men compliment me on my hat. I had one insist we trade hats.



This is the a fore mentioned e-bikes! Fast, zippy and a ton of fun.

The Golden Land

I really don't have any words for Myanmar. Not in a China-postcard way, but in a, how-do-I-possibly describe-this way. Ask anyone in North America to describe the Great Wall and they might take a decent crack at it, but what the plains of Bagan? I took about 800 photos while in Bagan, over the course of three days. My travel companions and I kept catching ourselves taking the same photo over and over again, because it felt like no picture could capture what we were seeing.



What to say. Heat and haze, golden and green. Romantic and mysterious. Wondrous and disturbing.



A friend was telling me about one girl who was raving that Bagan "changed her life". I don't think it changed my life, but it certainly made me reconsider what I know about my life.

- - -

I don't think I had ever heard of Myanmar/Burma before Semester at Sea. Like Vietnam, I had this moment of, "Where was I in school when we learned about this place?", but then I realized that we don't. There's a quote I've been sharing because it just seems so profoundly accurate,

"This is Burma. It is unlike any place you know about." - Rudyard Kipling

Dry heat that my friends compared to Arizona (I found this more bearable than the stickiness of Singapore), green like thick acrylic paint, and these enormous golden pagodas. I can see the shine of one from where I sit on the deck of the ship. They provide such stark contrast to the poverty of the people around them. For this is, truly, the first developing country we have stopped in.



- - -

The first time in my life I've ever been tipsy I was with two close friends from Christian summer camp (although not at camp please note), the second was in Bagan, Myanmar, after realizing I drank a whole bottle of Mandalay Beer. I thought this would be fine until I realized that at it's size it basically counted for two, and at 6%, I was glad only two of us had had beer when we crossed the unlit street to our taxi. I think Mandalay Beer was the first beer I have genuinely liked, and I feel I will forever be searching for a similar taste back home.

We got back to the hotel and promptly went across the street to this rust-red pagoda, slipped our shoes off at the entrance, lied down in the dust, and watched the stars. I used my beginner astronomy knowledge and we swapped life stories.

It is those moments that I have no pictures of, but that I wish I could frame.

- - -



Not even at camp have my feet become so dirty so quickly. Kicking your shoes off at pagoda after pagoda, walking through dust and stone, and especially after our day of renting these hilarious e-bikes (pics to come), my feet felt  one with the Bagan plains. My flip flops will never be the same.

- - -

We have four days before we arrive in India. I'm currently sitting up on the 7th deck, enjoying the morning sun before I have get lunch and go to class. It's okay though, the sun in the afternoon is almost unbearable for me. It's bright and harsh and very unforgiving.

This is the longest break we've had between ports since Hawaii-Japan. It's relieving, this moment to relax. Yesterday, our on-ship time was 1400. I was feeling exhausted, not physically, but just drained, so I stayed on ship and watched TV on my computer all morning. It was much needed.

I am excited for India, and also relieved that I don't have to worry about planning. India is a country you can't really mess around in. I'm on a SAS trip, which now that I am prepared for that style of travel after China, I think I'll be better prepared for mentally. I just can't wait to see Varanasi.

I'll try to add some more pictures soon.