Thoughts on a B Day.

Some changes in LAG that Semester at Sea has made possible.

1. I now where a sporty watch. I mean I wear this baby everywhere. I’m not sure what I would do without it.
2. I own Chacos. Caroline was the first to know of this phenomenon – I called her the day I made the purchase – it was a big deal.
3. I have not washed the “bangs” once. I miss all you lovely ladies at UVA who understand just how big of a change this is in me! Ha!
4. I have not jumped on the bandwagon to join every possible club. I decided to make this trip about discovering who I am and what God wants to do in my life – and not focus my time here on applying for something like Student Ambassadors where I would end up spending a lot of time planning and setting up for events.
5. I can now pack everything I would need for a four day trip (to the Sahara dessert might I add) in my small North Face backpack. Everything from jeans to tennis shoes strategically squished into the bag – makes for a smelly, sand-filled unpacking process in the cabin – but I have succeeded nonetheless.

Some changes that Semester at Sea has not been able to accomplish

1. I continue to find myself procrastinating. I have a list of reading that I need to get done. I have done more on this trip than normal, though, because the classes are so small that you have to know your stuff.
2. I am still directionally challenged. I either need a really good map or a really directionally talented friend. If one of these two things is not in the picture, I will be in deep mud. Sorry, Dad, I don’t think this will ever change.

Graceful.

The city of Cadiz was captivating that day. By night, it was mysterious, exciting, and full of surprises.

4 charter buses pack with students bumbled out to a neighborhood 30 minutes outside of Cadiz. We were all anticipating a night complete with tapas, cocktails, and a traditional Spanish flamenco show. Exiting the bus, we were greeted by waiters offering drinks and mingled with one another until directed to find a seat for the show.

The show was to take place in a small arena, I mean really small, that was a dusty bowl surrounded by a concrete wall painted a terracotta red. The music started on the speakers and these two women in black and white polka dot flamenco outfits emerged onto the “stage.” The dancing began with an addicting beat and layered skirts flowing. There was also a horse that showed off his own skills, very similar to the dressage I saw in Bedford last summer.

Finally, there was an amateur bloodless bullfight. A young boy, not a day over 15 ran out into the middle of the rink, red cape in hand. Then, emerged a baby bull – almost too young to have any anger toward the minor matador. Yet, it proved to be exciting as the little black bull succeeded in making contact with “Junior”. It was intense because we were all scared for this young boy when the bull would rush him. I wish you all could hear all the girls gasping in the crowd.

The entire show was funny, though, because it seemed as if it was a family business. It was definitely touristy. I started to think about the idea of flamenco dancing in total, and truly it is a tradition in Spain that exists for much of the purpose of tourism. The only thing I can think of in the US that is somewhat analogous to this is hula dancing in Hawaii.

After the show was over, we were directed to walk over to a banquet hall in order to relax, and enjoy some more flamenco dancing. Well, the trek consisted of walking about the length of a football field on a half-gravel, half-concrete terrain. Easy, right? Why the heck would I even write about the 250 or so steps I took in order to enter into a candle-lit room complete with tapas and Sangria? Well, let’s just say that Momma Gilbert did not include the name “Grace” as one of the four names she gave me – for a reason. I’m walking along with Lane, chatting about flamenco dancing and our travel plans for our adventure to Seville the next morning. I managed to trip. A little catch. No big deal. Well, at least I didn’t think so.

My thin little flip-flop was unable to protect the fate of my big toe. The skin was torn back, and blood was flowing. I wasn’t freaked out by it at all, just so stinkin upset! My first night in a foreign country and I already had an open wound – a target for germs and who knows what else!

The most insane part included how the adults handled it. As soon as I realized I had to clean this situation up, I looked around for an adult who would know where a first aid kit. Well, the first professor in sight came over to help and when I told him I had cut my toe open – he interpreted that to mean I had broken my toe and began explaining to me how to splint it. I tried explaining that it was just cut, but the communication just wasn’t working out. Lane and I went to the ladies room and started to wash it out when these little Spanish ladies brought us some rubbing alcohol and bandages. After pouring about half a bottle of alcohol on the cut and spraying some “On-the-go NEO” everything was okay. I rejoined the group for the rest of the evening.

It was hilarious to me that when I returned to the ship a few days later, people were trying to figure out what bad things happened in the country. No one had any extreme situations – except evidentially someone broke her toe. Wow.

The flamenco show in the banquet hall gave us time to really take in the culture and tradition that is found in the dancing. Lane and I realized that so much of the intrigue of flamenco dancing was the attitude – full of pride, arrogance, and mystery. At the end of the show the dancers tried to teach us some moves. After about ten minutes they gave up on our American hips and played that Macarena. Perfect.

Afterward we went out to experience the famous Spanish nightlife. We went to the strip along the beaches in Cadiz. It was funny because you could pick out the Semester at Sea kids so easily. Somehow we all ended up in this night club dancing and having a lot of fun. Before it got too late we hopped in a taxi with Gio and made it back to the ship to snuggle up in our beds for the night. The plan was to leave for Seville the next morning around 9am. Yea right.

BUCKLE UP.

Well, hello there! Please join me in a delightful game commonly referred to as “Catch Up.” No, not the tomato sauce that you commonly squeeze onto french fries, hamburgers and hot dogs (others seem to also enjoy the flavor on rather strange foods like scrambled eggs or black-eyed peas and even the occasional serving of green beans), but instead a sort of relay – a relay that will take several days for me to complete. This game involves concentration, imagination, and endurance. Think you can handle it?

Ultimately, I am the one being tested here. It is my job to transport you from the place you are currently occupying (whether it be a comfy chair in Alderman café or your kitchen table) to incredible places like Cadiz and Sevilla in Spain and Casablanca, Marrakech, and Zagora in Morocco – all through the little buttons I am pressing on my keyboard. I have been training for weeks now, and hope that I can live up to the challenge.

You must first know that I have an overwhelming amount of information, stories and photos to share with you. If I was stupid enough to attempt to write it all in one single blog entry, I think that each one of you would need to somehow obtain Ritalin (no matter what shady method you have in mind) in order to stay alive reading it all. So that no one has to do that, I am going to take it one or two days at a time.

Approximately 11 days ago, the MV Explorer pulled into Cadiz, Spain. We had been sailing across the great Atlantic Ocean for a full week.




(Above photos from the “Mix-Up Dance” here on board)

Ship life felt like summer camp. Everyday we were going to class, but at night we were hanging around the snack bar upstairs, people were playing card games in the Garden Café, the piano bar was chalk full of socializing. Every one was settling down, still shaking hands and meeting new people. Still skeptical about the people we were planning trips with. Still wondering what the heck we were doing on this boat in the middle of the ocean!

So, when the sun streamed into my room on that Saturday morning, I was almost confused by the sight before me. There was a gleaming orange light reflecting off the Spanish architecture in the distance. The world we had just pulled up to was waking up with me, and my excitement could not be contained. Excited, yes indeed, but there was also this overwhelming feeling that what I was seeing outside was unreal, a little fairy-tale land, a Truman Show set, and all 520 students on board were on hidden camera. Being on the ocean for so long made the sight of land and civilization seem so magical.

With this rush of emotion, I pretty much jumped out of my cozy little twin bed, threw on my favorite nubby UVa sweatshirt, snatched up my camera and scurried up to the 7th deck to capture some shots of our Spanish surroundings.



After pretending to be a pro at this photography thing (which I am FAR FROM), I loaded up a plate of fruit, yogurt, and scrambled eggs (no ketchup) to fuel up for the first day back on land after our Atlantic passage. The day was to include a “Churches of Cadiz” tour with Professor Vaughan, who teaches my US South class, and later that night an evening of Flamenco Dancing. Swallowing my last bite of breakfast, I took a deep breath of the fresh air before trampling back down to the 4th deck to shower and get ready for the day.

I was concerned about my attire since, after all, the tour was titled “Churches of Cadiz,” and I vividly remember the epic high school adventure to Italy with Mrs. Booty, and having to sport a skirt to step foot inside some of the Cathedrals. I opted for a dress that was comfortable, light weight, and the closest I thought I could ever possible come to looking European (darn this easily identifiable American face!).

Well, lets just say the Spaniards are a big group of fantastic, easygoing people who really don’t see the need for the silly tourist stepping inside the building to wear anything in particular. I was stuck in the dress. At least I still felt cute. Until the 20 mph winds in Cadiz that day decided to plays games with me. I think the goal of the game was to see how many times Leigh Anne’s dress could fly up in the most inappropriate moments. Lovely.

Back to me in my cabin preparing for the day. So, I’m dressed. Got my Euros, cameras, hand-sanitizer and SAS student ID card in stow. It’s about 9:30 and I need to head down to the dock to meet the bus. I cannot believe after those six days scrounging around this cruise ship that we had finally made it. I was in SPAIN for crying out loud! Europe! Beauty! Mystery! Romance! I swipe my card as I leave the gangway, and cautiously walk down the steep metal stairs (in my flowing dress). We have made it to port numero uno!



Originally, I definitely did not plan to go on this tour, but because my professor was leading it, I thought that I could count it toward my class assignment. (We have to participate in three FDPs or Field Practicum – educational trips – for each of our classes). I was looking forward to it, though, because my roommate, Lane, was attending too. Side note – Lane and I as roommates has caused our room to be dubbed the “Southern Belle” room being that she is from Mississippi and I from Sweet Home Alabama. It has been so easy living with her!

I join up with the group loading the bus for the tour. Everyone has cleaned up nicely – and by the looks on their faces, thrilled about having finally arrived in Europe. I find an empty seat on the bus, delighted that I know so many people going on this trip. There is Caroline from South Carolina who has a voice that sounds exactly like Miley Cyrus, Gio and Steven – two great friends from San Diego, Peter who I met the first few nights of the trip, and several others. Before even pulling out of the port we took some snapshots together – capturing the beginning of a great adventure in Spain.




An overview of the tour: a lot of standing, a lot of churches, and a lot of Catholic art. The tour began driving around the city of Cadiz. It is quite charming. There were some great views of the coast, so we stopped the bus to take some photos.




I’ll give you a bit more information about the tour… I don’t believe the above description was sufficient. The first church that we visited was beautiful. The large doors were swung open wide because there was to be a church held there that afternoon. Our tour guide told us that so many women in Cadiz want to be wed in the big cathedrals so they will book a date 3 years in advance when they are dating someone pretty seriously. When that special day rolls around, in most cases the girl is no longer dating the poor first guy, and is set to marry someone else! The church we were standing in was not extravagantly decorated for the occasion, yet being inside I could sense the excitement for the upcoming ceremony.

Dragging out feet on the cobblestone streets, we visited the final church. I was fascinated by the way each church buildings was a part of the planned city – not set apart as its own immense structure. We would take a sudden turn through some doors on a narrow street, and I would find myself inside a magnificent place of worship. By the end of the tour, though, we were all exhausted and ready for some food! On the ship lunch starts at 11:30, so when the tour was finished at 1:30 our stomachs were growling.

We weaved in and out between the scurry of people walking up and down the narrow streets. Finally, the streets opened up to a square complete with a flower market in the middle. The colors, sounds, and smells of Spanish tapas overcame each and every one of us.



There was a quaint restaurant right off the square, where we sat outside to enjoy our first meal. We ordered some sangria and paella – two things that were absolutely necessary. Steven ordered a fish plate – and when it came to the table it was basically whole fish deep fried – eyeballs included! Ah! Well, Caroline and I were splitting a paella which took longer to prepare, so we both tried the head of a deep fried sardine. Wow.


That afternoon we leisurely strolled through the streets of Cadiz. It was bizarre, though, to discover the reality of the SIESTA. Everything stops. Stores close, markets shut down, the streets clear out. So, we just took in the scenery.


After our afternoon of wandering we went back to the ship to clean up for Flamenco Night. Details to come soon.

Morocco - I'm already so behind! No time to THINK!

I am supposed to be making my way up to the Union to collect my passport and get on the road to Marrakesh! There is so much to talk about Spain, and will probably be even more to tell about Morocco.

On this camel trek to the Sahara I think we spend a total of 24 hours on a bus! So, I'll compose some thoughts then! More to come soon!

And if you need a really good laugh this week just picture me traveling out to the Sahara - everything in my little backpack for 4 days of travel - and mainly PICTURE ME TRYING TO GET UP ON THE CAMEL IN THE DESERT!!!!!

This should be interesting. I'll be posting some photos SOON!!!

A NEW POST.

I must begin with an apology for falling off the face of the Earth over the last several days.


YES. I am okay. I survived the fall, suffered a few minor injuries, but I am fully recovered and have returned to inform you about everyday life aboard the MV Explorer. (Hope the illustration helped you to understand what occurred during my absence from the blog-o-sphere)


Have you ever thought about what is would be like to live on a cruise ship? If you have taken a vacation in the deep blue sea on board a rather large, impressive vessel, think back to the delicious meals, extravagant entertainment, and a life without a care as to what the time might be (unless you wanted to make it to the napkin folding class at 2:30) Keep those eyes closed and continue imagining here with me – feel the warm breeze, taste that sweet pina colada, smell the salt in the air.

Now. Get rid of that entertainment staff in your mind, make that meal taste sort-of bland, and set your watch to military time. Throw in 520 college students, academic classes, and a library. Listen to the “Noon Announcements” that highlight the new schedule change, the mandatory pre-port lecture at 2000 hours, and give a friendly reminder to set your clock forward an hour yet again! Imagine the piano bar as a quiet study sanctuary and the disco lounge as a lecture hall. Wake up at 8:20 to make sure you can get breakfast before they stop serving at 8:30 and don’t forget to grab your textbooks on the way out the door.

Come back after class in the afternoon and take a look at the glowing sight gleaming into your confined room. Contemplate the arguments and facts shared in Global Studies lecture just hours earlier. The ocean is in danger. The water splashing by outside the cabin window is in trouble. 90% of the large predatory fish are gone, and only 5% of coral reefs are in their original pristine condition. And somewhere spiraling out in the Pacific Ocean is a gyre of plastic waste larger that the landmass of the United States of America.

Turn away from the rushing waves outside your window. The rapid rise and fall of the horizon line reminds you how lucky you are not to have felt any seasickness while crossing the Atlantic Ocean. Glance at the collage of photos on the magnetized wall – homemade magnets that evoke a bit of homesickness as you stare at grandparents, sisters, parents, cousins, and friends. There beside images of those held closest to your heart hangs a map of the vast world that we call home. This is what you are here for: the WORLD.

Open your eyes. Even though I am currently living on a cruise ship like I wanted you to imagine – this is no “cruise.”

This is a VOYAGE.

A voyage of discovery. Discovering the world. Discovering one’s self.

Here in this intimate community of Semester at Sea students, professors, and life-long learners, we are thriving. Together we are not only giddy and excited about seeing the world and its people, but we are also thrilled to discover how we can personally contribute to the creation of a better future for the 6.8 billion people around the world.


Though no pina colada rests in my grip as I soak in the sun rays on the top deck, I sit here knowing that any cruise I go on after this adventure will never measure up. This cruising experience is not to escape the worries of the world for rest and relaxation. It is a place, instead, to surround yourself with the overwhelming realities of the world, and to seek personal growth and inspiration.

10 countries. 109 days.
8 days down. 101 days coming my way fast.
I’m buckling up - this adventure calls for it!

__________________________

OH! ONE MORE THING!

If you are reading this, I am currently in CADIZ, SPAIN!
We will be pulling into port here in the next several hours! (Wow, I need to go to sleep!)
Goodnight :)

I’m sailing on a Ship that’s bound for JOY!

And they are OFF! Rockin’ and Rollin’ across the Atlantic Ocean is the name of the game for the 520 students aboard this 100th voyage of Semester at Sea!!

These last 2 days have been filled with hand shaking (don’t worry Mom, I’m using hand sanitizer several times a day), name exchanging (and forgetting), bag unpacking , and meeting attending. I have managed to arrange the contents of my two large duffels in every crevice of the room.

The greatest surprise of the first two days was finding out that my roommate is a girl from Mississippi that I met the night before at the Westin! I’m so excited because we get along great! It’s funny how even just being from the south helps the two of us immediately understand one another!

Yesterday was THE day long, informational meetings. Here’s the deal. We talked about everything from why it is important to NOT rest your hand in the door jam (amputated thumb = NO BUENO) to why you should not leave your laptop on the deck (ship turns sharply, the pool becomes a tsunami, stuff is ruined). Very informational. I struggled to keep the big blue eyes open. But I managed and made it through the day.

Last night there was a fair of different activities that you can join around the ship. I signed up to be adopted by a life-long-learner (a.k.a. an old person who will spoil you by hopefully taking you out to dinner one night), yoga (along with the other 519 students on board… holy moly), religious/spirituality group, students of service, and student ambassadors. This leads me to a question. Why the heck am I ALWAYS sucked in by “involvement opportunities?” So, I am not necessarily in these groups, I’ll just receive e-mails. Maybe my goal should be to CHILL OUT. Which I think I will soon enough.

Today CLASS BEGINS. Daunting. Intimidating. Rocking. Rolling. I’m excited! I have documentary film in less than an hour, and U.S. South following right after.

Last thing before I go. CHECK OUT THE SAS BLOG!!! Mom and I are featured! Well, at least our photo! The only shot up on the blog so far (unless they have updated it.) Mom is rockin’ the SAS sweatshirt! I just think this is HILARIOUS because I know Mom likes being “behind the camera”!!! Check it out!

MacKay Bridge.

WE ARE IN HALIFAX, CANADA!!!

After a long day of travel, we have made it. With one hour of sleep under my belt and a mother who pulled an all-nighter, we drove into the Birmingham airport at 5:00AM Tuesday morning. Good thing our flight from B’ham to LaGuardia was not even half full because my checked luggage weighed as much as a human being. Seriously.

Looking through my mother’s old photos, I came across one in particular with little Louisa with her pile of suitcases ready to set sail. I laughed and thought there was no way I would take that much stuff! And while I did not take as many bags as her – two heavy rolling duffel bags does seem excessive. Thank goodness that once I get it into the cabin, I’m good to go for 109 days!


So, the LaGuardia airport was frustrating. We came in on a small plane, exited the plane down stairs onto the runway, boarded a bus to transport us to a building, walked around asking every person in a uniform where the Air Canada terminal could be found. We were directed to hop on another bus. Once we reached the main terminal, we had to pass through security again – which I must interrupt myself to ask a question. When we take our shoes off in security to walk through – what fungi on the ground are we stepping on? All I know is from here on out I’m always wearing socks to the airport.

Okay, well once down the terminal, which is not air conditioned but decorated nicely with huge commercial fans – mom notices all the people sneezing, and we both start to feel like we are surrounded by the swine flu. I talked and laughed with Caroline on the phone for a while, and then thank goodness boarded the plane and off to Canada!

Now we are in Nova Scotia. Which is beautiful by the way! We squeeze my extra human body (luggage) into the car and drive away ready to reach the hotel and SLEEP.

Now that I'm going to share a little secret with you. I have no sense of direction, so why my mother trusted me to get us to the hotel is beyond me. But, I sat up straight and buckled-up determined to get it right. Everything was going great. I was feeling so good about it that I talked to Paige on the phone for a bit and was looking off enjoying our lush surroundings. Well, I was supposed to get us to the MacKay Bridge. Here is what I was looking for:


Seems like it would be pretty manageable for a 20-year-old to find, right? WRONG.

We missed the exit without knowing. End up in a shopping mall, ask random guys how to get to the Westin. Attempt to follow directions, but because the little symbols on Canadian road signs are impossible to read unless you have 20/15 vision – we miss it AGAIN. End up in another shopping complex.

This time Mom takes things into her own hands. Goes up to a random man waiting outside a steak house. This time with a map – she is taking notes. Back on the road, we finally get it right. Hit a toll – don’t have Canadian money. Mom uses our default excuse – “WE ARE FROM ALABAMA.” He laughs and says to toss 3 American quarters in the bucket.

Now we are cruisin’ down Barrington street – almost there! We are excited. Somehow miss the turn onto Hollis Street. One thing that is fascinating about these Canadian people is I don’t that they make mistakes when driving. Why you ask? There is NO WHERE to turn around if you screw up! Trust me. Mom and I know. Well, even though we are exhausted we get here. I make the bell boys at the front get the extra human out of the car.

Regardless, WE HAVE MADE IT!