Dad, you have given me the world, literally and figuratively, and you have no idea how grateful I am. I hope everyday of my life that I make you proud. I cannot wait to get back and give you the biggest hug.
Tuesday, 29 April 2014
Happy Birthday Dad!
It's a little late in the day (at least for me) but here we are.
Dad, you have given me the world, literally and figuratively, and you have no idea how grateful I am. I hope everyday of my life that I make you proud. I cannot wait to get back and give you the biggest hug.
Dad, you have given me the world, literally and figuratively, and you have no idea how grateful I am. I hope everyday of my life that I make you proud. I cannot wait to get back and give you the biggest hug.
and then we went surfing in Morocco
Our final port was everything I could have wanted. Here's the end, having not showered in four days and covered in salt.
- - -
There's little to do in Casablanca, we learned, other than see the Hassan II Mosque, so we left quickly.
It was beautiful though.
- - -
Let's not talk about the amount of mint tea and pastries I consumed in Morocco. The last morning I ate five croissant chocolate swirl things the size of my fist and half a dozen glasses of tea. And the amount of bread, oh my gosh. And the tagine and couscous. Did I mention the tea? I've always liked sweeter tea and so this felt like something I'd been waiting for my entire life. So, yes, the food.
I traveled with an eclectic bunch. We giggled our way through the Arab world. My two friends, Lulu and Hallie, had their hair braided in Ghana, known as "Rasta braids". We couldn't step outside our hostel without hearing "Hey, Rasta woman!", "Sister of Bob Marley!", "Rasta pasta!". It was amusing at the beginning and teeth-gritting at the end.
I, thankfully, was ignored the majority of the time. I credit this to my short hair and cargo pants yet again. There were multiple incidents in Morocco where again my gender was ambiguous enough to cause confusion. I certainly didn't do anything to stop this, and if it meant I wasn't harassed in the streets, all the better.
- - -
Marrakech was like a fairy tale. A smelly, loud fairy tale. Wandering the streets of the medina was unlike anything we have experienced yet. I don't think any picture could capture what it felt like to get lost in those cobbled streets. You learn to glance over your shoulder when you hear the clip-clop of donkey or the drone of a motorcycle.
We stayed in a crazy-awesome hostel, which we stumbled into the first day without having made a reservation. They were gracious enough to welcome us in and give us beds the first night, and couches on the rooftop the next night. We watched Aladdin that night and looked at the stars and everything felt unreal.
Our afternoons and evenings were spent wandering the medina or in the Jamaa El Fena square, another place that felt surreal.
I don't think any of my pictures really captured it.
- - -
Purr. Meow.
There were a lot of cats in Marrakech.
- - -
And now, how we went surfing in Morocco.
The original plan had been to make our way to Essouria after Marrakech, but after doing our research we realized there was no reliable way to get back to Casablanca from Essouria with time enough to get to the ship. We tossed around a dozen ideas before deciding to train to Rabat. On the train we met an American woman who has been teaching abroad since she was our age, now currently working in Munich, and her German boyfriend. I wouldn't mind having her life in a couple years. We talked to them for three hours, before they got off in Casablanca and we realized we hadn't even learned their names. They did tell us, however, to see the beach and cemetery and the surfers who walk through the cemetery.
We arrived in Rabat, hungry and tired, and found our way to the Medina. We ate and were entertained by a bunch of young boys who thought it was fun to play the air-violin and sing for the foreigners.
Wandered down to the ocean (trying to find the beach but instead found a bunch of black, harsh cliffs) to watch the sunset, realizing we had no idea what we were doing next. We ate the last of our chocolate-covered Oreos and watched for the green flash, laughing about the fact we had no idea where we were staying that night. At one point Hallie turned to me and said, "When you have no idea what's happening next, it really makes you appreciate what's happening now." I was struck by how incredibly profound that was, not just for our current situation but for the future.
Realizing we would soon be stuck in an unfamiliar city in the evening, we found an internet cafe and googled hostels. That led us to "Medina Surfing Association", and we showed up on their doorstep (after inevitably getting lost in the medina) exhausted and laughing. The young Moroccan surfers looked at us like we were insane, but gave us beds.
In the morning, they threw three wetsuits down on the table and asked if we were waiting for the waves to come to us.
We walked through the cemetery to the beach with our surfboards, just as the couple we met on the train described.
The water was chilly and the salt made me cry and spit every minute or so, but the sun came out and we were using muscles I had forgotten I had and everything was perfect for those few hours.
Hallie, who speaks beginner Arabic, was given a practical lesson in surfing Arabic during our lesson - the only thing I remember is that "moog" means "wave".
In the waves, I thought about watching my brother surf in California and had this odd sense of coming full circle. Oddly enough, I proved to be the best of the three of us, catching waves and standing up myself without any help.
The walk back to the hostel, and to the train station, was exhausting.
- - -
We didn't go to the desert, or the mountains, but I feel incredibly satisfied with my Moroccan experience. I look forward to going back.
- - -
I wrote my last test this morning, so I am officially done third year. Tonight is the Alumni Ball. Life on the ship is winding down, but the trip isn't over. I still have a couple weeks, a thought that is both exhausting and exciting. However, I keep thinking back to what Hallie said on the beach as we watched the sun go down.
I'll try to write once more before we disembark.
- - -
There's little to do in Casablanca, we learned, other than see the Hassan II Mosque, so we left quickly.
It was beautiful though.
- - -
Let's not talk about the amount of mint tea and pastries I consumed in Morocco. The last morning I ate five croissant chocolate swirl things the size of my fist and half a dozen glasses of tea. And the amount of bread, oh my gosh. And the tagine and couscous. Did I mention the tea? I've always liked sweeter tea and so this felt like something I'd been waiting for my entire life. So, yes, the food.
I traveled with an eclectic bunch. We giggled our way through the Arab world. My two friends, Lulu and Hallie, had their hair braided in Ghana, known as "Rasta braids". We couldn't step outside our hostel without hearing "Hey, Rasta woman!", "Sister of Bob Marley!", "Rasta pasta!". It was amusing at the beginning and teeth-gritting at the end.
I, thankfully, was ignored the majority of the time. I credit this to my short hair and cargo pants yet again. There were multiple incidents in Morocco where again my gender was ambiguous enough to cause confusion. I certainly didn't do anything to stop this, and if it meant I wasn't harassed in the streets, all the better.
- - -
Marrakech was like a fairy tale. A smelly, loud fairy tale. Wandering the streets of the medina was unlike anything we have experienced yet. I don't think any picture could capture what it felt like to get lost in those cobbled streets. You learn to glance over your shoulder when you hear the clip-clop of donkey or the drone of a motorcycle.
We stayed in a crazy-awesome hostel, which we stumbled into the first day without having made a reservation. They were gracious enough to welcome us in and give us beds the first night, and couches on the rooftop the next night. We watched Aladdin that night and looked at the stars and everything felt unreal.
Our afternoons and evenings were spent wandering the medina or in the Jamaa El Fena square, another place that felt surreal.
I don't think any of my pictures really captured it.
- - -
Purr. Meow.
There were a lot of cats in Marrakech.
- - -
And now, how we went surfing in Morocco.
The original plan had been to make our way to Essouria after Marrakech, but after doing our research we realized there was no reliable way to get back to Casablanca from Essouria with time enough to get to the ship. We tossed around a dozen ideas before deciding to train to Rabat. On the train we met an American woman who has been teaching abroad since she was our age, now currently working in Munich, and her German boyfriend. I wouldn't mind having her life in a couple years. We talked to them for three hours, before they got off in Casablanca and we realized we hadn't even learned their names. They did tell us, however, to see the beach and cemetery and the surfers who walk through the cemetery.
We arrived in Rabat, hungry and tired, and found our way to the Medina. We ate and were entertained by a bunch of young boys who thought it was fun to play the air-violin and sing for the foreigners.
Wandered down to the ocean (trying to find the beach but instead found a bunch of black, harsh cliffs) to watch the sunset, realizing we had no idea what we were doing next. We ate the last of our chocolate-covered Oreos and watched for the green flash, laughing about the fact we had no idea where we were staying that night. At one point Hallie turned to me and said, "When you have no idea what's happening next, it really makes you appreciate what's happening now." I was struck by how incredibly profound that was, not just for our current situation but for the future.
Realizing we would soon be stuck in an unfamiliar city in the evening, we found an internet cafe and googled hostels. That led us to "Medina Surfing Association", and we showed up on their doorstep (after inevitably getting lost in the medina) exhausted and laughing. The young Moroccan surfers looked at us like we were insane, but gave us beds.
In the morning, they threw three wetsuits down on the table and asked if we were waiting for the waves to come to us.
We walked through the cemetery to the beach with our surfboards, just as the couple we met on the train described.
The water was chilly and the salt made me cry and spit every minute or so, but the sun came out and we were using muscles I had forgotten I had and everything was perfect for those few hours.
Hallie, who speaks beginner Arabic, was given a practical lesson in surfing Arabic during our lesson - the only thing I remember is that "moog" means "wave".
In the waves, I thought about watching my brother surf in California and had this odd sense of coming full circle. Oddly enough, I proved to be the best of the three of us, catching waves and standing up myself without any help.
The walk back to the hostel, and to the train station, was exhausting.
- - -
We didn't go to the desert, or the mountains, but I feel incredibly satisfied with my Moroccan experience. I look forward to going back.
- - -
I wrote my last test this morning, so I am officially done third year. Tonight is the Alumni Ball. Life on the ship is winding down, but the trip isn't over. I still have a couple weeks, a thought that is both exhausting and exciting. However, I keep thinking back to what Hallie said on the beach as we watched the sun go down.
I'll try to write once more before we disembark.
Sunday, 20 April 2014
Ship Life, Denouement; or Happy Easter!
These past few days have been a whirlwind. Days on the ship used to drag on, now they fly by before I can register they happened. Two days until Morocco, our final port.
Tonight I finished one of my courses, tomorrow I will finish another. I have reached that "road block" point with school work, where I am 110% done with homework.
I've had multiple conversations with people today where we decided that although we will be sad to leave the ship, we are ready to move on. To move on to what's next, ready to not be constantly in a state of planning. I've said I will be incredibly grateful to be in the same place for more than a couple weeks- and realizing that next place will be Ontario Pioneer Camp makes me incredibly joyful.
But for now, as a study break for myself, I'll share some ship life moments that have brought me joy.
- - -
You can sign up for something on the ship called a bridge tour, where a crew member leads you to the bridge, normally off-limit to students.
I was geeking out, asking questions about how the ship works, what that button does, what if there were pirates, what does that button do, what do the flags mean, and how about that button? All the GPS systems and controls were fascinating. When we were up there the ship was on autopilot so the officers just joked with us.
One of my favourite things is that there is always one guy who stands at the front and looks out with binoculars. That's his job. He told us he's seen a lot of whales.
They also let us put on a Captain's hat.
- - -
You can purchase something on the ship called "fine dining", although a lot of students call it "fancy dinner". Normally its for if someone wants to celebrate a birthday or special occasion, but a group of my friends and I decided that even though we haven't celebrated a birthday on the ship, we still want to dress up fancy and drink champagne.
We giggled and put make-up on and took pictures and then stuffed ourselves on amazing food.
We toasted to "new Facebook friends".
- - -
The stress of finals week, on any campus, makes students act in strange ways, including on our own floating campus. We blew off a study session and instead had a silly photo shoot. At one point I was laughing so hard I was crying, curled up on the deck.
This is another in the series of boy band photos... refer back to Japan. We have plans to find Abbey Road in England.
- - -
The sunset was beautiful tonight. The sun reflected on the mirror in my cabin into my eyes, so I abandoned my work and headed up to the 7th deck. I listened to calming music and watching the large golden disk lower itself into the ocean.
This morning was also the sunrise Easter service. It was beautiful. I was reminded of God's grace and love like never before, and I think that's the first time I've teared up while receiving communion.
Somehow, the stress of everything else faded away with both the sunrise and sunset today.
- - -
At dinner today they put out Skippy peanut butter, and as soon as word got around students swarmed. We rarely get "good" peanut butter, so when it's offered, it's a big deal.
I ended up licking peanut butter off a spoon for an hour, like a peanut butter Popsicle, while a couple friends and I discussed our cats back home.
- - -
Wrote my final exam for my Religions of the World class. Our professor, as students began to hand in their papers, made a comment how in 25 years in teaching he's never enjoyed a class so much, and how he's very grateful for getting to know us. There was a collective "awww" before he shushed us and told us to keep writing.
I paused before writing my conclusion paragraph, not wanting to finish the course just yet.
- - -
It's night now. I'm exhausted, it's been a full day, and there's another one tomorrow.
Tonight I finished one of my courses, tomorrow I will finish another. I have reached that "road block" point with school work, where I am 110% done with homework.
I've had multiple conversations with people today where we decided that although we will be sad to leave the ship, we are ready to move on. To move on to what's next, ready to not be constantly in a state of planning. I've said I will be incredibly grateful to be in the same place for more than a couple weeks- and realizing that next place will be Ontario Pioneer Camp makes me incredibly joyful.
But for now, as a study break for myself, I'll share some ship life moments that have brought me joy.
- - -
You can sign up for something on the ship called a bridge tour, where a crew member leads you to the bridge, normally off-limit to students.
I was geeking out, asking questions about how the ship works, what that button does, what if there were pirates, what does that button do, what do the flags mean, and how about that button? All the GPS systems and controls were fascinating. When we were up there the ship was on autopilot so the officers just joked with us.
One of my favourite things is that there is always one guy who stands at the front and looks out with binoculars. That's his job. He told us he's seen a lot of whales.
They also let us put on a Captain's hat.
- - -
You can purchase something on the ship called "fine dining", although a lot of students call it "fancy dinner". Normally its for if someone wants to celebrate a birthday or special occasion, but a group of my friends and I decided that even though we haven't celebrated a birthday on the ship, we still want to dress up fancy and drink champagne.
We giggled and put make-up on and took pictures and then stuffed ourselves on amazing food.
We toasted to "new Facebook friends".
- - -
The stress of finals week, on any campus, makes students act in strange ways, including on our own floating campus. We blew off a study session and instead had a silly photo shoot. At one point I was laughing so hard I was crying, curled up on the deck.
This is another in the series of boy band photos... refer back to Japan. We have plans to find Abbey Road in England.
- - -
The sunset was beautiful tonight. The sun reflected on the mirror in my cabin into my eyes, so I abandoned my work and headed up to the 7th deck. I listened to calming music and watching the large golden disk lower itself into the ocean.
This morning was also the sunrise Easter service. It was beautiful. I was reminded of God's grace and love like never before, and I think that's the first time I've teared up while receiving communion.
Somehow, the stress of everything else faded away with both the sunrise and sunset today.
- - -
At dinner today they put out Skippy peanut butter, and as soon as word got around students swarmed. We rarely get "good" peanut butter, so when it's offered, it's a big deal.
I ended up licking peanut butter off a spoon for an hour, like a peanut butter Popsicle, while a couple friends and I discussed our cats back home.
- - -
Wrote my final exam for my Religions of the World class. Our professor, as students began to hand in their papers, made a comment how in 25 years in teaching he's never enjoyed a class so much, and how he's very grateful for getting to know us. There was a collective "awww" before he shushed us and told us to keep writing.
I paused before writing my conclusion paragraph, not wanting to finish the course just yet.
- - -
It's night now. I'm exhausted, it's been a full day, and there's another one tomorrow.
Wednesday, 16 April 2014
the heat of the sun and the beat of the drum
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "a plan to prosper and not to harm you. Plans to give you a future and hope." - Jeremiah 29:11
I wrote this on my wrist for Ghana, and it was very, very true.
Christianity was everywhere in Ghana- in a very IN YOUR FACE way as well. The businesses on the side of the rod had names such as ""Jesus Saves Phone Repairs", "Thy Will Catering", and "Peace and Love Auto Parts". One night, Dawn and I followed music from our hotel and ended up at a midnight church service. It was one of the LOUDEST things I have ever heard. We danced for an hour or so and then left when we started falling asleep during the sermon. We were told it would go until 4 AM.
- - -
Ghana was another country that was so incredibly hot that you, with every drop of sweat, felt incredibly grateful for being alive.
On the third morning we visited Cape Coast Castle, which was one of the main places where African slaves were shipped out to the Americas. We saw the governors room, with an incredible ocean and beach view, and then the condemned cells, a windowless room where disobedient slaves were locked until they died.
The Door of No Return, called so because slaves would pass through here to boats to the ships, and many never returned home. Our guide, a fantastic storyteller, told us that normally Door of Return is printed on the outside but had been removed because of recent storms, and it symbolizes the ability of wronged people to return to their homeland.
This felt like an important place to visit.
- - -
My brother and I, in my opinion, have never been overly mischievous children. In fact, it was once said that we "fight politely". Regardless, when we were young enough to have a babysitter, it was often a young friend of the family. Also named Rebecca, and known as 'Big Becca', she is actually only four years older than me, but as a child that felt like an enormous difference.
We figured it had been about 10 years since we had last seen each other when I met her on a beach in a fishing village.
I left Cape Coast in the early afternoon, and an uneventful two hour cab later I was in Busua, a place infamous for its surfing. I knew I had to get to Butre, the next village over, but I was unsure how to do that. I went to the fancy beach resort that I was dropped off by (primarily to use their nice bathroom... one of my favourite travel things, visiting fancy places to use their bathroom then leave) and asked if I could walk to Butre. They were like, "Oh, no, it's too far and highly discouraged, very unsafe". I didn't feel like finding and negotiating for yet another taxi just then, so I decided to visit Busua Black Star Surf School, founded by the guy who basically introduced surfing to Ghana.
I was immediately approached by the friendly owners, and a volunteer there (a young girl from the UK there for a month on her gap year, teaching lessons part time and surfing the rest of the time, I'm still in awe of her sense of adventure). I talked about my uncle who loves surfing and my brother who is far better than me at surfing. When I came around to mentioning I was looking for a friend, as soon as I said, "Rebecca", they both said, "Oh yeah, the ginger!". And when I asked if I could walk to Butre the answer was "Yeah, of course".
Beach, path, road, up a hill, down a hill, Butre. Those were my directions. I asked a couple fishermen to help me find the path.
The moment I crested the hill, I saw Butre spread out before me, a castle on a hill, and the turquoise ocean. The sense of accomplishment and wonder took my breath away. I stood there and realized why people fall in love with travel. I would do anything for that feeling again.
I was the only white person walking through Butre, and people would smile and wave and say "hello" but not approach me (although a teenage girl did tell me she liked my hair), until I met Francis. He had a similar reaction as the surf shop folk when I mentioned Rebecca, and the feeling of getting closer and closer to her was wonderful. He crossed with me over this bridge, then pointed me in the direction of Hideout Lodge.
The guidebook really didn't do justice to this beautiful little resort on the side of beach, with an eclectic mix of tree houses and bungalows.
I ordered dinner and got to know a staff worker named Isaac before Rebecca arrived in a taxi. I was afraid I wouldn't recognize her, but I did. We spent hours talking of Bancroft, our families, traveling, and it was incredibly insightful to hear about the realities of working for a non-profit overseas from someone I really respect.
When I started shaking and ran a fever it was like she was my babysitter again. I moved from my treehouse to a bungalow with a bathroom and slept fitfully but knowing that help was just a short walk away if I felt worse. Looking back, it was likely heat exhaustion- I had little water throughout the morning and then the hike to Butre was in the hot sun, and I only started
drinking water when I realized I was a little loopy.
The next morning I felt better and we spent the morning lounging and talking. Rebecca showed me the house she is building and designing with her boyfriend George (a lovely, hard-working man) on the beach.
We got a taxi to Takoradi, and on the way she showed me the village where Free the Children is working.
We said good bye just outside the port, laughing that the next time we might see each might be in Bancroft, but it could very well be Ghana again.
- - -
On my last in Ghana my Acting class participated in a drumming and dance workshop and I was reminded why I struggled in music class in middle school. The knuckles of my hands are still bruised.
The whole day wasn't a bust though, as Acting is a relatively small class and as a result we all rather enjoy each other's company. When we had a break we all headed straight for the ocean. Our lifestyle on ship and traveling somehow has resulted in never having an opportunity to run- to full out, head long run. We took a couple minutes during our break to do this.
And I found a beautiful sand dollar. I found an equally perfect sand dollar in California when we were down for my uncle's funeral but it didn't survive the journey back to Canada. I feel like I was given a second chance.
- - -
I understand the concept "weary traveler". I am very excited for Morocco (you can hear people playing the Aladdin soundtrack around the ship), but I am tired. I am tried of planning, researching places to stay and things to do, scams to watch for and neighborhoods to avoid. Being flung into the unknown is an adventure, but it also takes so much energy.
This could very well also be because in this next week of school I feel like I have 90% of my schoolwork for this semester. There's a lot to get done, and not a lot of time left.
I wrote this on my wrist for Ghana, and it was very, very true.
Christianity was everywhere in Ghana- in a very IN YOUR FACE way as well. The businesses on the side of the rod had names such as ""Jesus Saves Phone Repairs", "Thy Will Catering", and "Peace and Love Auto Parts". One night, Dawn and I followed music from our hotel and ended up at a midnight church service. It was one of the LOUDEST things I have ever heard. We danced for an hour or so and then left when we started falling asleep during the sermon. We were told it would go until 4 AM.
- - -
Ghana was another country that was so incredibly hot that you, with every drop of sweat, felt incredibly grateful for being alive.
On the third morning we visited Cape Coast Castle, which was one of the main places where African slaves were shipped out to the Americas. We saw the governors room, with an incredible ocean and beach view, and then the condemned cells, a windowless room where disobedient slaves were locked until they died.
The Door of No Return, called so because slaves would pass through here to boats to the ships, and many never returned home. Our guide, a fantastic storyteller, told us that normally Door of Return is printed on the outside but had been removed because of recent storms, and it symbolizes the ability of wronged people to return to their homeland.
This felt like an important place to visit.
- - -
My brother and I, in my opinion, have never been overly mischievous children. In fact, it was once said that we "fight politely". Regardless, when we were young enough to have a babysitter, it was often a young friend of the family. Also named Rebecca, and known as 'Big Becca', she is actually only four years older than me, but as a child that felt like an enormous difference.
We figured it had been about 10 years since we had last seen each other when I met her on a beach in a fishing village.
I left Cape Coast in the early afternoon, and an uneventful two hour cab later I was in Busua, a place infamous for its surfing. I knew I had to get to Butre, the next village over, but I was unsure how to do that. I went to the fancy beach resort that I was dropped off by (primarily to use their nice bathroom... one of my favourite travel things, visiting fancy places to use their bathroom then leave) and asked if I could walk to Butre. They were like, "Oh, no, it's too far and highly discouraged, very unsafe". I didn't feel like finding and negotiating for yet another taxi just then, so I decided to visit Busua Black Star Surf School, founded by the guy who basically introduced surfing to Ghana.
I was immediately approached by the friendly owners, and a volunteer there (a young girl from the UK there for a month on her gap year, teaching lessons part time and surfing the rest of the time, I'm still in awe of her sense of adventure). I talked about my uncle who loves surfing and my brother who is far better than me at surfing. When I came around to mentioning I was looking for a friend, as soon as I said, "Rebecca", they both said, "Oh yeah, the ginger!". And when I asked if I could walk to Butre the answer was "Yeah, of course".
Beach, path, road, up a hill, down a hill, Butre. Those were my directions. I asked a couple fishermen to help me find the path.
The moment I crested the hill, I saw Butre spread out before me, a castle on a hill, and the turquoise ocean. The sense of accomplishment and wonder took my breath away. I stood there and realized why people fall in love with travel. I would do anything for that feeling again.
I was the only white person walking through Butre, and people would smile and wave and say "hello" but not approach me (although a teenage girl did tell me she liked my hair), until I met Francis. He had a similar reaction as the surf shop folk when I mentioned Rebecca, and the feeling of getting closer and closer to her was wonderful. He crossed with me over this bridge, then pointed me in the direction of Hideout Lodge.
The guidebook really didn't do justice to this beautiful little resort on the side of beach, with an eclectic mix of tree houses and bungalows.
I ordered dinner and got to know a staff worker named Isaac before Rebecca arrived in a taxi. I was afraid I wouldn't recognize her, but I did. We spent hours talking of Bancroft, our families, traveling, and it was incredibly insightful to hear about the realities of working for a non-profit overseas from someone I really respect.
When I started shaking and ran a fever it was like she was my babysitter again. I moved from my treehouse to a bungalow with a bathroom and slept fitfully but knowing that help was just a short walk away if I felt worse. Looking back, it was likely heat exhaustion- I had little water throughout the morning and then the hike to Butre was in the hot sun, and I only started
drinking water when I realized I was a little loopy.
The next morning I felt better and we spent the morning lounging and talking. Rebecca showed me the house she is building and designing with her boyfriend George (a lovely, hard-working man) on the beach.
We got a taxi to Takoradi, and on the way she showed me the village where Free the Children is working.
We said good bye just outside the port, laughing that the next time we might see each might be in Bancroft, but it could very well be Ghana again.
- - -
On my last in Ghana my Acting class participated in a drumming and dance workshop and I was reminded why I struggled in music class in middle school. The knuckles of my hands are still bruised.
The whole day wasn't a bust though, as Acting is a relatively small class and as a result we all rather enjoy each other's company. When we had a break we all headed straight for the ocean. Our lifestyle on ship and traveling somehow has resulted in never having an opportunity to run- to full out, head long run. We took a couple minutes during our break to do this.
And I found a beautiful sand dollar. I found an equally perfect sand dollar in California when we were down for my uncle's funeral but it didn't survive the journey back to Canada. I feel like I was given a second chance.
- - -
I understand the concept "weary traveler". I am very excited for Morocco (you can hear people playing the Aladdin soundtrack around the ship), but I am tired. I am tried of planning, researching places to stay and things to do, scams to watch for and neighborhoods to avoid. Being flung into the unknown is an adventure, but it also takes so much energy.
This could very well also be because in this next week of school I feel like I have 90% of my schoolwork for this semester. There's a lot to get done, and not a lot of time left.
Wednesday, 9 April 2014
it's ghana be good
In two days it will be Shelby's birthday. A member of Team Tokyo, and my
final acting partner for Acting class, she is one of the people on the
ship I am very thankful for having met. We celebrated her birthday today
because
Dawn and I had been working on a treasure hunt for her birthday - well,
I say Dawn and I, but really I just provided moral support and the
occasional sarcastic sounding board as Dawn masterminded this 10-clue
hunt that spanned the ship, inside jokes, and Shelby's personal history
before ending in a pizza party and cookies on the 7th deck.
It had begun to rain an hour or so before, and sitting on the 7th deck
felt hot and sticky (we did just pass the Equator after all) but the
rain was a welcome coolness. Someone suggested we dance in the rain, and
so we did, and then someone too seriously considered jumping in the pool
and soon I was leaping into the pool, holding my the folds of my dress
with one hand and glasses with the other.
Eight of us, full clothed, in the rain, in the pool, laughing.
I silently mourned the fact that I had just had the dress washed
(laundry is a luxury) and then celebrated the moment. The dress now
hangs in our bathroom and I suspect it will take days to dry.
A few minutes later we were changed and ate cake in the dining hall,
giving out the pieces we couldn't finish to other SAS students who
wandered by, would wish Shelby well, then tuck into the cake.
Just one of those un-capturable moments.
- - -
We arrive in Ghana tomorrow. I am incredibly excited for a port that I
have few plans for.
I never thought I would feel okay "winging it" in an African country,
but I'm with three girls who I know I will have a blast with. The
journey is the destination after all, right?
final acting partner for Acting class, she is one of the people on the
ship I am very thankful for having met. We celebrated her birthday today
because
Dawn and I had been working on a treasure hunt for her birthday - well,
I say Dawn and I, but really I just provided moral support and the
occasional sarcastic sounding board as Dawn masterminded this 10-clue
hunt that spanned the ship, inside jokes, and Shelby's personal history
before ending in a pizza party and cookies on the 7th deck.
It had begun to rain an hour or so before, and sitting on the 7th deck
felt hot and sticky (we did just pass the Equator after all) but the
rain was a welcome coolness. Someone suggested we dance in the rain, and
so we did, and then someone too seriously considered jumping in the pool
and soon I was leaping into the pool, holding my the folds of my dress
with one hand and glasses with the other.
Eight of us, full clothed, in the rain, in the pool, laughing.
I silently mourned the fact that I had just had the dress washed
(laundry is a luxury) and then celebrated the moment. The dress now
hangs in our bathroom and I suspect it will take days to dry.
A few minutes later we were changed and ate cake in the dining hall,
giving out the pieces we couldn't finish to other SAS students who
wandered by, would wish Shelby well, then tuck into the cake.
Just one of those un-capturable moments.
- - -
We arrive in Ghana tomorrow. I am incredibly excited for a port that I
have few plans for.
I never thought I would feel okay "winging it" in an African country,
but I'm with three girls who I know I will have a blast with. The
journey is the destination after all, right?
the middle of the world
A couple hours ago we passed a rather normal-looking patch of ocean,
where the Prime Meridian intersects with the Equator. There were rumors
about what we would see in this spot, and indeed there was an unassuming
red and white buoy, and the ship circled around it like a child
celebrating a victory, and the horn echoed (and we all clapped our hands
to our ears- that thing is LOUD).
I thought the buoy was a testament to the nature of human exploration,
that we feel the need to mark this ambiguous place that only exists in
human knowledge. In the middle of all this blue, here human achievement
is saying, "Look at this! We exist. We are here, even the middle of
nowhere."
I didn't have my camera, so you'll have to take my word for it.
where the Prime Meridian intersects with the Equator. There were rumors
about what we would see in this spot, and indeed there was an unassuming
red and white buoy, and the ship circled around it like a child
celebrating a victory, and the horn echoed (and we all clapped our hands
to our ears- that thing is LOUD).
I thought the buoy was a testament to the nature of human exploration,
that we feel the need to mark this ambiguous place that only exists in
human knowledge. In the middle of all this blue, here human achievement
is saying, "Look at this! We exist. We are here, even the middle of
nowhere."
I didn't have my camera, so you'll have to take my word for it.
Friday, 4 April 2014
alive at the end of the earth
I was really unsure about South Africa. As always, they scare us with numerous emails about safety in the places we visit, so much that we begin to think of a country as full of crime rate rather than people. I had some plans, not very solid, and every I was amazed how God had provided for me in ways I couldn't have expected.
- - -
Sunday
Forgive me the lack of photos, but take my story of a remarkably satisfying day.
I have a friend, Lulu, on the ship, who is from Zimbabwe but lived in Cape Town last summer and whose boyfriend and brother are currently there. For her, it was like going home, and she was more than gracious to invite a couple of us to hang out with her on Sunday. She was staying off the ship so we caught a taxi that morning, our driver really as unsure as we were about where we were going with our ambiguous directions. We were driving up a street when one girl recognized Lulu's boyfriend walking down the street- impressive, considering she had only seen a photo of him before. She rolled down the window and shouted his name. We laughingly introduced ourselves and he walked with us the block left to church.
It was a mainly student church, with some families and young couples, about 40 people in the morning service. Hearing our accents, many people approached us to ask where we were from, and then with knowing smiles as we introduced as "Lulu's friends from the ship". It felt so familiar and comforting that I teared up during worship - worship really unites Christians worldwide, I'm learning, there's nothing like singing the songs that are so important to me at camp while I'm halfway around the world.
We made our way to Lulu's brother's house, after a quick stop at a Pick n' Pay to pick up groceries. Splitting the bill and carrying the groceries down the street, I felt like I could live there. Just a typical student Sunday.
We had a 'brye', aka BBQ- sausage, buns, pineapple, potatoes, juice. I get hungry remembering it.
From there, two of our group went off to a concert, myself and another to Hillsong Church. For those not aware, Hillsong is a Pentacostal megachurch that grew out of Australia, largely based on the strength of their worship band. I knew there was one in Cape Town from my research pre-SAS, and wanted to go, mainly because a lot of worship I grew up with has come out of Hillsong. But I wasn't sure how to get there or if it was a good idea.
Rewind- Saturday. I volunteered for the Open Ship Tours, thinking it would be showing South African students around the ship. However, our group ended up being various people, no college students, with connections to SAS - past faculty, family of past students, past students. Including one young couple. The husband paused to read the "Religious Community" poster on a hallway during our tour, and so we got talking. He casually mentioned he and his wife (SAS alum) work for Hillsong.
Like I said, God provided.
He is from Holland, she's from America, both of them felt called to work in South Africa and met there. They had their wedding in Cape Town to force their families to visit. Their story was incredible, I wish i could have spent more time with them. When saying goodbye, he wrote down directions and told me to come to the 6:30 PM service.
When we arrived, he greeted me with a hug.
Hillsong is... an experience. The contrast between the student church in the morning, 40 people in a gymnasium, to the three storied theatre with lights and fog was incredible. It was fun, but I could never see myself calling it "my" church. It was like a concert, although we were told it was the evening service, the youth-centered service. The loud, the dancing, it was a lot.
Our cab ride home I was bubbling over with happiness. It was a full, delicious day.
- - -
If that was one day, you can understand why I don't describe every day blow-by-blow. We do so much in each day.
One day, I ignored everything I had ever read about safety, climbing up a mountain at dusk in the rain. Just as I about to insist we turn around, we met a local who saves rhinos and had two broken feet and offered to take us up to the top, as all the tourists and locals, were turning around before the top. We were in the middle of the clouds, alone and laughing.
Then the clouds began to glow as we descended slowly, and then the lights. The lights and stars, blending into one were worth the danger. It was indescribable.
That same night, Dawn and I tried to go out partying on the infamous Long Street before we realized with her being homeschooled and I being small-town Canada we couldn't figure it out. We sat in a classier version of McDonald's with our burgers before spotting friends across the street and dashing to them and proceeding to dance the night away.
- - -
I took the train to Simon's Town, which I think was quite possibly the most perfect places I have ever seen. We came for the penguins,
but I fell in love with the water and mountains.
- - -
Then there was Table Mountain. It was the last day and I hadn't been up it yet and this felt unacceptable. I took a taxi there, determined to go, even if I had to do it by myself. I ran into two other SAS girls intent on the same thing. We got a little turned around halfway up but saw some incredible waterfalls, before finding the correct path.
We earned the view, and the food at the top.
- - -
I joke about having a "When I Come Back" list for each country, because our stays never see long enough. In South Africa it felt like a "When I Live Here" list. There's so much life.
I wrote for my India entry,
"I had this thought - if Burma asked me what I would die for, India reminded me that I will indeed die one day."
To continue this thought, at the risk of being cliche, South Africa reminded me that for today, I am very much alive.
- - -
Sunday
Forgive me the lack of photos, but take my story of a remarkably satisfying day.
I have a friend, Lulu, on the ship, who is from Zimbabwe but lived in Cape Town last summer and whose boyfriend and brother are currently there. For her, it was like going home, and she was more than gracious to invite a couple of us to hang out with her on Sunday. She was staying off the ship so we caught a taxi that morning, our driver really as unsure as we were about where we were going with our ambiguous directions. We were driving up a street when one girl recognized Lulu's boyfriend walking down the street- impressive, considering she had only seen a photo of him before. She rolled down the window and shouted his name. We laughingly introduced ourselves and he walked with us the block left to church.
It was a mainly student church, with some families and young couples, about 40 people in the morning service. Hearing our accents, many people approached us to ask where we were from, and then with knowing smiles as we introduced as "Lulu's friends from the ship". It felt so familiar and comforting that I teared up during worship - worship really unites Christians worldwide, I'm learning, there's nothing like singing the songs that are so important to me at camp while I'm halfway around the world.
We made our way to Lulu's brother's house, after a quick stop at a Pick n' Pay to pick up groceries. Splitting the bill and carrying the groceries down the street, I felt like I could live there. Just a typical student Sunday.
We had a 'brye', aka BBQ- sausage, buns, pineapple, potatoes, juice. I get hungry remembering it.
From there, two of our group went off to a concert, myself and another to Hillsong Church. For those not aware, Hillsong is a Pentacostal megachurch that grew out of Australia, largely based on the strength of their worship band. I knew there was one in Cape Town from my research pre-SAS, and wanted to go, mainly because a lot of worship I grew up with has come out of Hillsong. But I wasn't sure how to get there or if it was a good idea.
Rewind- Saturday. I volunteered for the Open Ship Tours, thinking it would be showing South African students around the ship. However, our group ended up being various people, no college students, with connections to SAS - past faculty, family of past students, past students. Including one young couple. The husband paused to read the "Religious Community" poster on a hallway during our tour, and so we got talking. He casually mentioned he and his wife (SAS alum) work for Hillsong.
Like I said, God provided.
He is from Holland, she's from America, both of them felt called to work in South Africa and met there. They had their wedding in Cape Town to force their families to visit. Their story was incredible, I wish i could have spent more time with them. When saying goodbye, he wrote down directions and told me to come to the 6:30 PM service.
When we arrived, he greeted me with a hug.
Hillsong is... an experience. The contrast between the student church in the morning, 40 people in a gymnasium, to the three storied theatre with lights and fog was incredible. It was fun, but I could never see myself calling it "my" church. It was like a concert, although we were told it was the evening service, the youth-centered service. The loud, the dancing, it was a lot.
Our cab ride home I was bubbling over with happiness. It was a full, delicious day.
- - -
If that was one day, you can understand why I don't describe every day blow-by-blow. We do so much in each day.
One day, I ignored everything I had ever read about safety, climbing up a mountain at dusk in the rain. Just as I about to insist we turn around, we met a local who saves rhinos and had two broken feet and offered to take us up to the top, as all the tourists and locals, were turning around before the top. We were in the middle of the clouds, alone and laughing.
Then the clouds began to glow as we descended slowly, and then the lights. The lights and stars, blending into one were worth the danger. It was indescribable.
That same night, Dawn and I tried to go out partying on the infamous Long Street before we realized with her being homeschooled and I being small-town Canada we couldn't figure it out. We sat in a classier version of McDonald's with our burgers before spotting friends across the street and dashing to them and proceeding to dance the night away.
- - -
I took the train to Simon's Town, which I think was quite possibly the most perfect places I have ever seen. We came for the penguins,
but I fell in love with the water and mountains.
- - -
Then there was Table Mountain. It was the last day and I hadn't been up it yet and this felt unacceptable. I took a taxi there, determined to go, even if I had to do it by myself. I ran into two other SAS girls intent on the same thing. We got a little turned around halfway up but saw some incredible waterfalls, before finding the correct path.
We earned the view, and the food at the top.
- - -
I joke about having a "When I Come Back" list for each country, because our stays never see long enough. In South Africa it felt like a "When I Live Here" list. There's so much life.
I wrote for my India entry,
"I had this thought - if Burma asked me what I would die for, India reminded me that I will indeed die one day."
To continue this thought, at the risk of being cliche, South Africa reminded me that for today, I am very much alive.
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