I know that it has been a while since I have played an active part in this blog, but it occurred to me only recently to post what I created as my finished product. This was my first attempt at making a mini mostly photography based movie. It sums up the entirety of my trip. Enjoy!
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Vietnam
Ho Chich Minh City, Vietnam formerly known as Saigon was a bustling city mixed with rural and urban and eastern and western influence that together, fused a unique melting pot of people and culture within a vast city that seemed to never sleep.
Day 1: My first introduction to Vietnam was by the muffling sounds of motorbikes that created an infestation of traffic as they beeped their way through roundabouts and side streets. Our arrival to Ho Chi Minh had been delayed until noon so Sarah, Chris, Charli, and Emily and I made a run for the city once immigration had been cleared. My girl friends were eager to shop while I was ready to eat Vietnam, so our group split and I went off with Chris to meet up with Tranh, a former 07 voyage Vietnamese inter-port student who Chris had contacted. The Ho Chi Minh port was a lot more lax than the others we had visited; the security, the vendors, the people.
Chris couldn’t get his phone to work so we had to guess who Tranh was. We waited and watched the traffic and SAS students buy their new northface backpacks and Vietnamese fishing hats until we spotted out the tiniest Vietnamese girl in a black and white floral dress. After introducing myself, her first question to me was “Are you Vietnamese?” I laughed and said no, that it was my first time being called Vietnamese.
She took us to a small restaurant that had been remodeled from a cozy two-story house to what reminded me of an historic modern style art museum in the middle of a main street that paralled the city. We crossed a small bridge over a Koi pond that connected us to the other side of the restaurant then were led up a steep staircase where we had to duck to go through a doorway to our seats. The restaurant was made up of locals and French expats whose meals sent a mouth watering smell through the room. I thought that I was an expert when it came to Vietnamese cuisine, but the menu was intimidating with dishes that I had never heard of. Tranh took care of our tastebuds and ordered us spicy, sweet, and sour dishes! Mmmm I would kill to go back there right now!
After lunch we spent the rest of the day rummaging though the fabric stores, tailor shops, and the markets of Saigon. All of the vendors had such a high level of skill and craft. I was told that it was absolutely necessary to get a dress customized for you in Vietnam, but I only had a day until my flight to Ha Long Bay and I could not decide on a style or a color for my dream dress. Walking from one place to another was something else in Vietnam. Instead of traffic lights, as a pedestrian you would use your own disgression and whenever it seemed like the right moment to cross, you would simply slowly start inch cautiously and watch as motor bikes would start to slow down and part for you. Once I got used to it I didn’t even have to think or look just slowly walk and watch as I would literally stop traffic.
The city of Saigon was as curious to see me as I was to see it. I liked everything about Saigon, its pace, the organization of the city, the food, the people, and the welcoming environment that made it seem like I was in a small town rather than a big city. I found it hard to believe that I was in a country that fifty years ago was in severe devastation as a result of the Vietnam War. My time in Saigon was spent among the significant expat culture that the Vietnamese were so welcoming to and eager to get to know. I really liked the city and didn’t want to leave for my SAS trip to Ha Long Bay, I even had second thoughts about leaving.
My flight to Hanoi was schedueled for 4am, so I stayed up the rest of the night bouncing between massage parlors, restaurants, and being a part of the intermingling expat and local nightlife subculture. The night had just began, but no sooner I was on my way to the airport followed by a 3 hour plane ride to Hanoi.
Northern Vietnam was freezing and if it wasn’t for Tranhs advise I wouldn’t have packed such warm clothing. The city and people of Hanoi was what I had always pictured both a French city to look like and French people to act like. Hanoi was a lot more lifeless than Saigon maybe it was the cool weather, or the lack of motor bikes in replacement for luxury cars, Hanoi lacked grit that gave Saigon its unique personality. Everywhere I went locals starred at me severely, not out of curiosity but because I was different. People were not as approachable in Hanoi, not even the other foreigners. It was the first time that I experienced a cold alienation and felt like an intruder in a culture.
It took us about 4 hours to drive out to Ha Long Bay by bus. Our tour guide Mango kept us entertained the whole way out. We drove for hours passing rice field after rice field where I could see what remained of Vietnamese rural life on the stretch of road that connected the fast moving city of Hanoi to the country side that sustained city life. I was surprised at just how much countryside there was in Vietnam, I knew there were gems of sights all over the country and would have killed for a few more days to explore them, but I was content with the rice fields they provided a buffer between the coldness of Hanoi and the road that didn’t seem to end.
We arrived in the small town of Ha Long after sunset. The town was covered in fog that created an eerie atmosphere. SAS put us in a 4 star hotel that I really didn’t think was necessary, I would have much rather have stayed on a fishing boat out on the bay. I was completely exhausted by the time we arrived in Ha Long so I called it a night almost instantly after we arrived.
The next day the fog had lifted and I could see the small town. I was caught off guard to see that Ha Long was such a tourist town lined with 4 star hotels and Ha Long Bay tour companies. Prior to SAS I had seen pictures of the Bay and had instantly fell in love with the stillness of the rocky iselets that dotted pale grey waters of the Bay.
I sat on the upper deck of the 2 story wooden boat as we glided through the calm misty waters. The combination of grey and silence created mysterious and eerie atmosphere on the Bay. I could see the iselets off in the distance waiting as we coasted our way closer and closer. We arrived at a large rock island that was swarming with tourists and boats like ours. Inside of the rock island was a giant cave that was filled with multi color lights and stone isceles that draped from the ceiling. The cave fit hundreds of us, but the echoing of foreign dialects that bounced off the hollow walls and the mass clutter of people drew from the caves mystique.
By the time we got back on the Bay the rest of the crowd had followed us making it difficult for me to enjoy the view. I got to see famous twin rock iscelet that resembled a heart with a hole that cut through the middle. Our time on the Bay was short, and we left no sooner than we had arrived.
I left Ha Long with a feeling of dissapointement and emphathy for the Ha Long community. What was once a small sustainable fishing town that relied on the Bay for their intake, was now overpowered by foreign visitors like myself. There was a lot of of spatial inequality in Ha Long leaving people no choice but to capitalize on the only thing great that was left in their town.
I left northern Vietnam indifferently and ready to get back to Saigon. We arrived in the city and I quickly found my friends and went to a local Karaoke hub. The atmosphere of what looked like a hole in the wall space was filled with a lively group of locals testing their western music skills. We danced and sung along for the rest of the night and tried to explain to locals about our voyage around the world. Vocalizing my Semester at Sea experience is still so surreal and I can tell by the expressions on peoples face that it is really hard for them to wrap their heads around as well. I enjoyed my last night in Saigon with my friends and the people I had met and left the hub in better spirits.
The next day I tagged along with my friend Chris and some Vietnamese friends he had made and spent the rest of my last day riding out to the Chu Chi tunnels on the back of a moped! My last day couldn’t have been any better. We rode an hour out of town through the countryside and out of the city to the tunnels with some of the sweetest girls I had met. They spoke little English, but sometimes the silence of a smile is much more powerful than words.
I got to experience and be a part of the spectacle of traffic and motorbike congestion riding through the inner and outer city of Saigon. The Chu Chi tunnels were a lot further than I expected. The tunnels and the history behind them were remarkable. I was surprised at how little I had known about the Vietnam war before I had arrived. An entire group of people built an underground community to defend themselves against the American soilders. I had always learned about the war in school and had no connection to the history, but actually being in an old warzone made me realize how real the wars impact was on communities such as Chu Chi. It made me appreciate the direction that humanity was going, and that the local people were able to move on and not resent people like myself who were wanted to visit and learn from the past traumatic experience so that no one would ever turn in that direction again.
I arrived back in Saigon and didn’t want to leave after having spent my most exciting day there yet. Chris and I killed some time before we needed to head back to the ship getting our last fix of Vietnamese food and spending time with our new friends before we had to leave.
I saw the opposite ends of Vietnam but did not get to experince its central core leaving me a reason to someday go back. I found the contrasting perception of foreigners interesting, and the history of the country was a great learning experience. I really enjoyed Vietnam and hoped that by the time I made it back that it would not manage to changed in any way.
Singapore
Singapore was a country that was far more advanced and developed than any other city or country I had ever visited. It was a country run by brain power and intelligence that together, created a vast technologically advanced and functional country. In a matter of forty years after becoming independent from Malaysia, Singapore has evolved into a gigantic city by the sea home to high rises, foreign investement, and an entire city of streets as clean as clean as suburbia. It is a shopper and food lover paradise filled with mega malls and ritzy affordable restaurants and bars.
Me, Charli, Sarah, Chris, and Taylor started our day off in a mall that was directly connected to our port. It didn’t even feel like I was walking through a port here. It was by far the most clean and orderly port we had arrived in yet. Just stepping foot into this mall I was so impressed. We met up with one of Chris’ friends Celine, a former reporter who had grown up in Singapore. She took us on a nature walk right outside of the port that gave us an aerial view of the city.
After the hike, we waited at the cleanest bus stop I had ever seen located outside of the city. There was absolutely no garbage, dust, signs of a homeless population, or any stray animals running loose. In the meantime we attempted to wave down taxi’s on the side of the street but failed after each cab that drove past us. We were told later that the taxi business is so organized that they only pick people up in specified locations throughout the city.
Orchard Rd. was our next stop, a street filled with mall after mall and restaurants that stretched on for miles connected by lively city streets and an underground subway system. We ate at a food court filled with high quality southeast Asian cuisine.
Next we went to the Raffles Hotel, one of the oldest buildings in the city of Singapore. Everything at the Raffles was marketed as the first and finest which gave them an excuse to mark up all of their prices. The hotel was great but we wanted to see more of the city for less.
Before arriving in port I had stumbled upon a picture of an infinity pool on a rooftop that overlooked the city of Singapore and was determined to find it. We asked around and were pointed in the direction of the Marina Bay Sands that was known for its lofty view of the city.
It was my first time being on the 56th floor of a building and we had the best birds-eye view of the city! Being at the top of the hotel I saw the endless sea of highrises and modern infrastructure. The entire rooftop was luxurious with the exclusive infinity pool and jacuzzis for MBS guests only, a chic Asian cuisine restaurant, and a open air bar. I spent the rest of my day in a hedonistic indulgence of food, sights, and relaxation as I lounged around on a comfy sofa overlooking the city. There was really nothing else do for a day in Singapore but to pamper yourself, and I did just that.
On ship time was slightly extended from our normal 6pm to 8:30pm. This change however did not stop students and faculty from pushing the limits on their Singapore city bliss giving 200 people dock time in Vietnam.
Singapore was my first real city experience was that will make it hard for me to compare once I visited a modern city such as New York in the States.
Planes, Trains, and Rickshaws
Planes, Trains, and Rickshaws
India…WOW, what a place! It is hard to put my experience in the country into words, but here I go.
About an 8th of the world’s population (over 1 billion people) reside in the ever-expanding country of India, a place that would take a lifetime to fully comprehend. In the six days I was there I was saw four different cities: Chennai formerly known as Madras, New Delhi, Agra, and Varanasi. It was a place that required a lot of patience and a great sense of humor. Upon my arrival, my friend Chris who has traveled to India multiple times warned me “if something is going to go wrong, everything will go wrong in India, no matter what India always wins.” I didn’t believe him at first, but I spent the rest of my trip with these words lingering at the back of my mind haunting me at time and not taken seriously at others.
There was never a dull moment in this country, all of my senses were constantly in action. If you weren’t moving thousands of people were, scattered in all different directions and ally ways and street corners. Although the population was abundant, the infrastructure to support this population wasn’t, which made travel and time so valuable. You needed to plan at least half an hour to an hour in advance to get to places that you needed to go or else you’d be eaten alive by the traffic, the mosquitoes, or the swarms of people that you needed to push your way through to get from point A to B. But India was an exciting place with so much going on that even when your patience was being tested, you could just stop and look around at everything that was remotely different than anything you are used to and feel less worried about getting what you wanted and more interested in everything around you.
My first day in Chennai was my first test of patience. We waited, and waited until immigration was ready to do our face-to-face passport checks, then waited and waited some more until we were finally cleared and ready to disembark. The whole process of getting from the ship and off of the port was very slow. It was mandatory for us to take a short shuttle from the ship to the entrance of the port. Once we reached the entrance, we waited in a line to get our passports checked again so that we could leave the port. I figured that since India was so over populated it needed to be very strict with its immigration laws and regulations so I patiently waited and talked to security guards and friends to pass the time.
Twenty minutes later, Me, Charli, Emily, Chris, Sarah, and Wang Fan made it off the port and on to the street where we were swarmed with rickshaw drivers “berry good price Madame please come with me,” they insisted. At first we attempted to walk into town, but soon realized that it was a lot further than we thought and would need to cross through some of the busiest streets I had ever seen in my life. So the six of us squeezed into a rickshaw, a tiny open sided putt-putt go-cart like car that went no faster than 25 MPH. It was a great way to get around, not the most comfortable in our case, but we got to really feel Chennai with all of our senses.
It was complete anarchy on the streets of Chennai and the rest of the cities I visited. Rickshaws, motorcycles, and cars would be swerving at you from all directions as if your vehicle was invisible, rear ending was just a normal part of driving, and crossing over to drive into oncoming traffic was completely acceptable. There was no organization on the streets, every pedestrian and car for themselves keeping up and alert thanks to the symphony of horns and people shouting. Driving was quite an experience in itself. Despite the scary driving that I had experienced in other countries, really nothing compared to driving in India. At first I was really scared and was holding onto the sides of the rickshaw for my life, but after a while everything just became really amusing and entertaining and out of my control and the only I could do was the make the most of it and laugh about it to pass the time.
I felt as if I had gone fifty years back in time. Majority of the buildings had not been remodeled for ages and people were still working in them as if they were brand new. There were the occasional upscale architecturally designed government buildings, but those looked very out of place next to the aged city. Because we were in the coastal region of India, there were a lot of old British forts and other old infrastructure that the British had left behind throughout the city that were still an important part of Chennai. I had always seen photographs of women dressed up in bright bold colored saris intricately laced in patterns of sequins and had thought that that was part of stereotypical India, but when I arrived I discovered that women really did wear beautiful saris everyday of the week. Although the dress code in India was very strict for women especially for myself as a foreign visitor (we needed to fully cover our knees and wear shirts that covered our shoulders and neckline), the Indian attire for women was so much more colorful and rich than ours that it really wasn’t a problem to wear all that fabric and all those colors. Some of the men dressed in traditional Indian attire as well which consisted of long linen long sleeve tunics matched with long linen skirts or pants. The men who wore more westernized attire looked as if they had stepped out of the sixty’s or seventy’s. They wore gaudy gold jewelry with their bright button down shirts tucked into their high waisted jeans or pants some wearing brown sandals and others walking around bare foot. There were a lot of old fashion cars on the street the type that had no seat belts with seats that connected from one side to the other, along with motorized rickshaws and the occasional bicycle rickshaws. The western cars that you would see zipping around on the street looked very strange in Chennai and stood out more as a sign of wealth than anything else.
We had our rickshaw driver take us to a market that one of the inter-port students had suggested called sow carpet, a mini city of run down shops and narrow ally ways that created a maze of Hindi, saris, three story buildings, motorcycles that would squeeze right past you, and food. It was already an hour past noon and Sarah and I had only two hours to spend before we needed to head back to the ship to leave on our big trip to the Taj Mahal and Varanasi! We wandered though the sow carpet maze and window-shopped. I think us girls were expecting a little more out of the market, but it was really interesting to walk through and observe nonetheless.
We walked down a street filled with saris and couldn’t resist! It was the most colorful store I had ever been in filled with shimmering saris and bright patterns of material. We took off our shoes and walked over pillows that lined the entire store, it was so comfy. I had such a hard time sifting through all of the different fabrics, but Emily found a pretty blue sari that she bought for herself.
By the time we left the store Sarah and I had to leave to go back to the ship to get ready for the airport. We waved down a rickshaw and were on our way, little did we know most locals had no idea where the port was located. We realized this when we got closer to the port and started going around in circles. Neither of us had our green information sheet from pre port but luckily ran into our friends on another rickshaw who lent the driver our sheet and we made it back in time!
It was a long process to get back on the ship. This was the first port where we needed to have our passports on us at all times which made me really nervous. We got to the entrance and had to show them our passports, then got to the dock and had to show them our passports again and go through a security and get our bags searched, then do it all over again once we got to the ship.
Our flight to New Delhi was schedule for 7:45 but had no idea what to expect as far as traffic in Chennai. Sarah and I quickly packed our bags and booked it to the airport with our friend Edmund. Again, we had to go through all of the security and deal with our passports then we were off to the airport. This was going to be my first time flying in another country so I was eager to see what the flight was going to be like but nervous at the same time that something bad might happen.
I had never seen an airport so disorganized and scattered. There were so many people just there outside of the airport and cars speeding though the road that led to the terminal. Soon, most of the people from our independent group arrived. We all went through security and I was surprised to see how loose they were about airport security, but so strict about immigration laws. We were on time and everything went quite smoothly, but we were informed that our flight had been delayed for another hour. Soon, the airport was filled with American students as more people from the ship arrived for their SAS sponsored trips to the Taj Mahal. Ironically we were on the same flight as them. There were over a hundred of us and we made up majority of passengers on the plane. We traveled on Spicejet airlines and it really was like flying on an American airline but the speaker over the intercom spoke in Hindi and we had Indian flight attendants.
It took us three hours to get to New Delhi and by the time we got there it was almost midnight. We were taken to a bus and immediately driven to our hotel after receiving lei’s from our hosts’. It didn’t take long to get to our hotel, we were all so exhausted but were starving. The hotel was quiet and old fashioned with large simple rooms and bathrooms that looked like they had not been properly clean. Everyone headed straight to bed after getting their dose of Nan bread. I had had such a long day and was excited to really get to see India the next morning.
Sarah and I woke up bright and early to start off a long day of activities. We ate breakfast and then were greeted by our new tour guide named Joseph. He was from New Delhi and the first Christian that I had met in India. We hopped on a bus that took us into the city to see Ghandi’s ashes. I didn’t see too much of New Delhi, but from what I saw I didn’t find it all that interesting. From driving around I could definitely see the difference in class that I had heard so much about in India. You would see hundreds of homeless people walking on the streets next to run down markets and squatter settlements, outside of upscale buildings, business centers, and fancy government buildings.
We arrived at a large park in the middle of the city, the only place that I had seen that was maintained and trash-free. I was surprised that Gandhi was buried in this area of New Delhi. His burial site was duller than I had expected. There were no flowers or pictures, just a very plain modern style stone monument. We had some time to walk around the park before heading back on the bus for our five hour-long ride to Agra to visit the Taj Mahal.
It was my first time being on the road for such a great distance, and in India of all places. I couldn’t believe the sea of cars overflowing the highway. Everyone was beeping and rear-ending one another it was such a mess. Driving out to Agra, we passed through many slum communities. The people in these communities lived in some of the worse conditions I had ever seen. It wasn’t like Ghana where they lacked the resources to build sufficient housing, but these people lived in complete squalor. I’d look out of the window and see good houses falling apart with people living in them. These communities were so poorly maintained and with people living next to industrial infrastructure and trash, it just made me question India’s value for their quality of life. It really disturbed me to see people living in such poor conditions in these rural areas. It made me think about rural to urban migration into cities in a place like India. The population was just so large I didn’t see it feasible even if these people wanted to move out into the cities and pursue a better life.
We drove and drove until we reached Agra. It was a city that resembled most of the smaller rural communities that we had passed on the way out there except with more newly renovated shops, hotels, and restaurants. It wasn’t what I pictured the city of the great Taj Mahal to be in. Agra looked like all the other cities I had been in India but even more run down. At first the Taj Mahal was nowhere in sight, but as we drove deeper into town I spotted the monument peering out above the city. We stopped at an Indian restaurant for lunch before heading to the Taj. We were fed a delicious combination of spinach and vegetable curries, Nan bread, and spicy rice.
On our way to the Taj Mahal our driver warned us to not pay any attention to the street salesmen because they were cons that would try to pick pocket us. I brushed off his warning because I thought that I already knew what to expect from the other ports I had visited. When we got off the bus however, we were greeted by the most persistent beggars and salesmen I had encountered in all of the countries. They pulled at me and even followed me for long distances to the point where I had to yell at to make it clear that I did not want anything from them.
We walked through the large gated entrance to the Taj Mahal and immediately went through security. They separated us into lines of white foreign men, Indian men, white foreign women, and Indian women. I didn’t really give much thought to how much of a target a place like the Taj Mahal would before going through such high security.
You couldn’t see the Taj Mahal right after going through security, so the anticipation was building up as I stepped out. There was a long walk way that took us to a grand entrance that stood about five stories high made of ivory and precious stones decorated in sapphires, ruby and pearl. The entrance was so well preserved it looked new. Stepping through the dark passage of the entrance and looking at the Taj Mahal in the distance was one of the most incredible sights I have ever seen. The Taj Mahal really had no fascinating history or purpose behind it, only a monument dedicated to a Mogul ruler’s wife who had died during childbirth; it was nonetheless by far the most amazing piece of architecture I had ever seen. The Taj Mahal looked just as good in pictures as it did in person maybe even better.
In pictures I had always imagined the Taj Mahal as a quiet peaceful monument that people could only experience from a distance. But once I walked through the entrance, I was greeted by thousands of other visitors it was like being in a crowd at an amusement park. The Taj Mahal sat in the middle of two other grand pieces of architecture, on the left the Mogul ruler had built a mosque almost as grand as the Taj Mahal, and on the left was a guest house fit for a king. The entire area was so symmetrically constructed it was almost too perfect. I followed the path alongside the fountain that reflected the Taj in the late afternoon sun. The Taj became more and more surreal with every step I took closer. I stopped to take as many pictures as I could along the way but none of them do any justice to how incredible this monument was.
Walking inside and around the Taj Mahal was even more astonishing. The sun was setting quickly which gave the Taj an opalescent glow. I felt so small standing on its surface, I understood why it was considered one of the Seven Wonders of the World. The sun set behind the Taj as people poured out of the grounds, and soon we had to leave. Nighttime in Agra around was quite dangerous. Men would tenaciously grab on to you and insist you buy their souvenirs. I had to be very cautious walking in the dark and actually yelled at these men a few times to get them to stop following me. Little did I know the night had just begun.
Our next stop was the train station to board the overnight train to Varanasi, the holy capital of India. We arrived in a panic thinking that we were going to miss our ride and have to spend the rest of the night in Agra. As we ran for the train, people starred at us wondering why these 30+ Americans were rushing to a train at 11pm at night. Our group was really unorganized and we did not coordinate our seating arrangements in advance. As a result, many of us were left without seats which put us in even more of a panic. The further we walked down what were supposedly our first class seating arrangements we progressively began to get more. The dim fluorescent lighting made the train look shadier than it really was, the beds smelt like the person who had just been in it, and the bathroom was literally a hole over the tracks. I looked around and knew that it was going to be quite an adventure.
It took me about an hour to find a seat. I had to search the different compartments of the train until I finally found a bed that was in of all places, next to the bathroom. I took the bottom bunk and shielded myself with a cloth, while my roommate Sarah bravely took the top bunk putting her at eye level to anyone who walked by in the middle of the night. Initially I was scared, Sarah and I were far away from the group and could not understand a single conversation that was being said around us. There were constantly people walking back and forth throughout the night some would peer into my compartment out of curiosity. Despite the strange smells, loud coughing, and the constant coming and going of people, I managed to get cozy on my bed and once I settled down began to enjoy the slowness of the train.
I woke up the next morning to a view of the Indian countryside and soon pulled into the city of Varanasi. We all got off waking up in the clothes we had worn the previous day, and headed off to the outer part of the city to our hotel.
There was nothing really remarkable about the area in Varanasi that our hotel was in except for the traffic of bicycle rickshaws and occasional elephant that would walk down our street. I did not enjoy Varanasi until took bicycle rickshaws into the city. The city center of Varanasi revolved around the Ganges River that comprised new and old city features and traditions into its diverse and very colorful scape.
What attracted me the most to the city was its maze-like marketplace that hid from the public behind old buildings and alleyways. If I had more time I would have loved to spend hours getting lost in and explore hidden market. There was even an old mosque at the center of the market that resembled a mini version of the Taj. I turned out a side ally in the market and was led down a series of stairs that took me down to the Ganges River. What was so remarkable about the Ganges and made the city of Varanasi so holy was that people from all over India traveled to the river to have their loved ones cremated and as ashes be thrown into the river.
We boarded a rowboat to watch the cremation ceremony take place during sunset on the river. As we sailed downstream I enjoyed the view of old historic abandoned buildings that lined the river. Our guide quieted the group and explained to us that we were approaching the cremation ceremony. The shore was covered with fire pits and the atmosphere surrounding the cremation ceremony was still no one moved or talked. I watched as bodies were being brought down covered in orange flowers and placed above the fire pit and burnt away into ash.
The entire time I was there I found it so hard to believe what I was actually seeing. At first I was disturbed by the ceremony, but then I began to appreciate the fact that I was seeing tradition at its best. This was normal part of life for most Indians and I was lucky enough to be watching this very spiritual moment. I lit a candle and sent it down the Ganges River to honor whoever’s soul I had seen move on to the next life.
After the cremation ceremony, we watched a concert performance on shore from the river. We parked next to hundreds of other people in boats and watched the spectacle together. Night on the Ganges River was as magical as it was entertaining. I couldn’t have wished for an experience any better in Varanasi.
We spent the next day watching the sunrise at the river and doing a drive through tour of Varanasi University. My last day spent in the city was very relaxed. I enjoyed the slow pace of time mixed with the vast movement of people who comprised only a fraction of the Indian people.
Our flight to Chennai had been delayed, so when we had our stop over in New Delhi we sprinted to our connecting flight and arrived just before they were about to close the gate.
I enjoyed all of the cities I had visited in India, but Varanasi the most. The cities I visited provided me with contrasting perspectives of the lifestyles and development that varied from city to city. The Indian culture was one that at times required a lot of patience from a western perspective. When things went wrong it took a lot of patience to resolve and understand the reasons why. Staying amused and in good spirits really helped to take your mind off what sometimes seemed to be an inconvenience at times. India really tested me and pushed at my buttons, but once I pushed back and explored my own tolerance to difference I really opened up to India and had an incredible time.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Takoraki, Ghana
I am having a hard time settling back down into my shipboard life as I count down the few remaining hours until we set sail to South Africa. Ghana has been the most fascinating port I have visited so far. Coming into Ghana with a tabula rasa, the country has written so much of its culture and knowledge onto me that I am already yearning to rediscover.
Day 1: As we coasted through the Takoradi harbor, I peered into a blanket of fog at my first glimpse of West Africa. It was so exciting to finally see land again! I rushed to breakfast and went out on deck and looked down on tribal performers singing, dancing, and drumming to welcome the MV Explorer. It really hit me then that I was halfway around the world.
I rushed to my room to get ready bug spray, check, green sheet, check, water, check, sunscreen, check, camera, check. I had already packed my day with tentative plans and was eager to leave the boat. At each port I have been letting go of my micro management obsession to plan and have been able to just go with the flow of things; something that I have learned is the best way to travel, tentatively but never setting anything in stone. Timitz Square was crammed with students waiting to get off the ship. It took customs a really long time to inspect the boat so we were stuck for two hours, regrouping, re planning… waiting, until we were motioned to exit on the second deck! What started off as a small group of five friends for the day, soon became twelve.
The Takoradi port was much different than the others we had visited. Instead of strolling right off the boat and into the city, we had to walk a good fifteen-minute stretch not to a city, but to a road filled with taxi cab drivers and desperate street vendors pushing and shoving us to buy things from them. Even though we were out of the port, no one had an idea of where the city was. If I even made the slightest glace at a street vendor he was grabbing me trying to take me to his booth to buy a painting or a t-shirt or a keychain from him! They were in frenzy as hundreds of American students poured into the streets not having a clue where to start. It was very overwhelming trying to push my way through a swarm of men shouting at me asking me to buy their this and their that. I had to really focus my wandering mind through the crowd to make sure that all of my friends were with me, and to not get distracted by the commotion.
It was really hard to make taxi arrangements for a group of twelve people. My friend Erik, a former Marine who has lots of experience in traveling and has served as security for the President, took the unofficial “security” role for the day. We were told that most people in Ghana spoke English, but we soon realized that was not the case. Taxi drivers were pulling at us trying to rip us off with fares, but Erik organized three cabs for the twelve of us and made sure that there was at least one boy in each of the cabs with the girls. We knew that we wanted to visit Kakum National Park and the Cape Coast Slave Castle and Dungeon, but had not idea how long it would take is and which direction we were even going in!
Day 1: As we coasted through the Takoradi harbor, I peered into a blanket of fog at my first glimpse of West Africa. It was so exciting to finally see land again! I rushed to breakfast and went out on deck and looked down on tribal performers singing, dancing, and drumming to welcome the MV Explorer. It really hit me then that I was halfway around the world.
I rushed to my room to get ready bug spray, check, green sheet, check, water, check, sunscreen, check, camera, check. I had already packed my day with tentative plans and was eager to leave the boat. At each port I have been letting go of my micro management obsession to plan and have been able to just go with the flow of things; something that I have learned is the best way to travel, tentatively but never setting anything in stone. Timitz Square was crammed with students waiting to get off the ship. It took customs a really long time to inspect the boat so we were stuck for two hours, regrouping, re planning… waiting, until we were motioned to exit on the second deck! What started off as a small group of five friends for the day, soon became twelve.
The Takoradi port was much different than the others we had visited. Instead of strolling right off the boat and into the city, we had to walk a good fifteen-minute stretch not to a city, but to a road filled with taxi cab drivers and desperate street vendors pushing and shoving us to buy things from them. Even though we were out of the port, no one had an idea of where the city was. If I even made the slightest glace at a street vendor he was grabbing me trying to take me to his booth to buy a painting or a t-shirt or a keychain from him! They were in frenzy as hundreds of American students poured into the streets not having a clue where to start. It was very overwhelming trying to push my way through a swarm of men shouting at me asking me to buy their this and their that. I had to really focus my wandering mind through the crowd to make sure that all of my friends were with me, and to not get distracted by the commotion.
It was really hard to make taxi arrangements for a group of twelve people. My friend Erik, a former Marine who has lots of experience in traveling and has served as security for the President, took the unofficial “security” role for the day. We were told that most people in Ghana spoke English, but we soon realized that was not the case. Taxi drivers were pulling at us trying to rip us off with fares, but Erik organized three cabs for the twelve of us and made sure that there was at least one boy in each of the cabs with the girls. We knew that we wanted to visit Kakum National Park and the Cape Coast Slave Castle and Dungeon, but had not idea how long it would take is and which direction we were even going in!
We made our way out of the port area and into the streets of Takoradi to exchange our money for cedi. I was stunned to see how much of a developing city we were in. It was not busy like Manaus, but disorganized. I saw no new or renovated infrastructure but rapidly deteriorating buildings. If I didn’t watch where I was walking I could have easily fallen into open street sewage scattered through the town. I was shocked that the city had left their sewage open or minimally covered with loose pieces of wood. The scent of raw sewage lingered in the blanket of fog and made it so hard to even be in the town.
We collected our Ghanaian money and regrouped and headed off the Kakum National Park, a World Heritage Site known for its endangered species and canopy walk. Driving out of the city through the rural villages was like stepping into a photo from National Geographic on poverty and rural life. Every village we passed was lined up with houses that were falling apart. Right on the outskirts of Takoradi houses appeared to be recycled from bigger and more sophisticated homes and made into livable spaces. As we drove further out houses were built with tin, wood, or brick. But as we got closer to the coast, houses were literally made from mud, brick with thatched roofs. There were so many shops outside of people’s homes. It was evident that these people had minimal or no access to transportation and that small community vendors was what sustained rural life. Our windows were tinted, but whenever the heat would overcome me and I would crack my window people would stare at me so curiously and in awe trying to figure out what planet I had come from. It was so different to see absolutely no suburban life in sight, or at least any that met my western expectations. I felt ashamed that I was feeding off of the stereotypical portrayal of the impoverished third world Africa. I knew that from that moment I would make it a point dig a deeper into African life and to the roots of its problems and try to look past what I had been conditioned to think of Africa.
On our drive out to Kakum, we were stopped at four security checkpoints in various rural communities. It was really frightening, the officers carried heavy artillery and at times even made the cab driver get out and talk and we had no idea why. Prior to our arrival in Takoradi, we had been briefed that it was prohibited to take pictures of government buildings and police, my friend and I had forgotten which resulted in her camera almost getting confiscated by an officer. We were very lucky that day that we did not get hassled by any officers. I learned later from other SAS students that officers had threatened to not let them pass without paying them in cash. I was shocked that corruption was so in your face and that there was not a thing we could do about it. I felt really vulnerable and on edge not knowing what to expect and whether or not we would make it or not.
The drive was a lot longer than we anticipated it to be. Our driver did not seem to know the area really well and didn’t speak much English. We had to make numerous stops to ask for directions, it was really sketchy because we had absolutely no idea where we were. After reaching the sign for the national park, we had to drive down another road that took about an hour past more rural communities. My friends and I realized that the two other taxis with our friends were now nowhere in sight. We hoped that they were not lost.
On this part of the drive I got to see a lot more of the Ghanaian lifestyle. In these villages there were more shops and more people in closer living arrangements. Everywhere I looked there were women and even men carrying and balancing all kinds of foods and goods in huge bowls on their heads. I got a better sense of the Ghanaian community. Even though these people were living in the most minimal conditions I saw no one who looked unhappy. They were all so content, moving slowly and gracefully through their day.
We arrived at a checkpoint stand to pay for our entrance into Kakum, at the stand two young boys approached our cab to buy cocoa from them. “Did you pick this yourself?” I asked. He replied yes and I was shocked and suddenly reminded of the film that we had watched and discussed in Global Studies about the children in the West Africa who are child laborers on cocoa farms, harvesting the plant for US chocolate corporations. But when I looked into the eyes of this young boy, I saw no sign of exhaustion or unhappiness, it seemed so normal as if he was selling newspapers on the street back in the States. Don’t we consider that normal? I thought about the rural villages that I had passed, and what their family structure must be like, and realized that not all African families could afford to be a nuclear family. It occurred to me that it was normal for a family who lived in such bare minimal conditions to send their child off to work to help support their family. They did not see child labor as taboo the way we see it from the perspective of a developed and model country. I realized that this was their way of life and that we were in a developing country and therefore could not criticize the way they choose to sustain themselves (After seeing evidence of “child labor” I understand it as more of a cultural norm and is how people in these countries get by. I feel that as long as children are not being physically, sexually, or mentally mistreated in these working conditions, that we really have no business to decide if what they are doing is wrong and unethical by our standards). I thought about how ironic it was, that countries in the global north expect developing countries to follow in our footsteps, like modeling after the north will automatically lift them from poverty, yet we are the ones who continue to perpetuate the very root of many of these problems; and don’t for a second take into account what cultural barriers we must break in order to attain these western expectations.
Many of the children that I did encounter while I was in Ghana did attend school, but the others that did not were bright in other ways. They could speak over two different languages, or were skilled in some sort of trade. Sure they were not educated by western standards but were rich in skill, something that I saw as more important to their lifestyle. I began to think a lot about cultural integration, foreign aid, and the help that the global north is so proud to be a part of in these developing countries. I wondered if it really helped and if it was really necessary for them to be involved in places that we really know nothing about. Sure I may not be an expert in globalization and have not fully studied the lives of Ghanaians, so there is room for debate and if anyone would like to disagree with my observations and opinions I think that that is fine. But I feel that I made keen observations to what I was seeing around me and incorporating it with my prior knowledge of Ghana and the many aspects that I had learned about the country.
Finally, we were at Kakum! We looked around the visitor area for a while and could not find any of our friends. We asked the workers to look out for them and proceeded with our hike. The canopy walk was all that we had time to do in order to fit the slave dungeon tour into our day. Me, Cassie, and Kenji walked down a path for about fifteen minutes. On our walk we talked a lot with our guide about the different villages that we had passed on our way out to Kakum. He said that many of the villages were different tribes who spoke different languages and African dialects. There are more than 800 different dialects in the continent of Africa, many of them spoken in Ghana alone. He went on to talk about the unification of Africa, and the reason why it is so difficult for the continent to be unified is because of the language barrier throughout the continent, from country to country, even between villages. I predicted that the unifying language would be English. Everywhere I have been, there are always a handful of people you will find that know enough English to help you out. I wondered what Africa would be like if they lost their many dialects and languages to the uniformity of English. Until only a small community of people, like the Native Hawaiians, could speak the native language. In a way I hoped that these countries did not unite, for simple fact that they were just too interesting to lose such a rich culture so that they could speak to one another.
We soon stood at the foot of the most incredible bridge! Suspended 140 feet in the air by colossal trees in the middle of the jungle stood a network of several narrow bridges connected together forming a gigantic circle! I was blown away! The bridges’ base was a ladder, with a thin piece of wood on top, with netting wrapped from the bottom of the latter up and around the sides to make us feel just a little bit safe. At first we walked very cautiously over the bridge trying to stay balanced as the bridge wobbled and shook in every direction, I was really nervous. By the second bridge I wasn’t nervous anymore and started running and taking pictures and having a great time! It was really scary at first, but I felt myself letting go, first of my fear of heights, and then of my worries that I had had earlier about being in Ghana and being so far away from my home and the rest of the world. Running around and suddenly being unafraid sent a serge of accomplishment and feeling of ease through me. I felt that if I just let things go and tried things out that I could stop being so critical of everything, and extract the pure essence out of my surroundings.
We had the best view of the jungle up in the canopy looking down at all of the jungle life and birds, and butterflies. After the canopy walk we went back to the visitor area where we found Charlie, Emily, Erik, and Darlene sitting around waiting for us. I was surprised that we had not run into them on the hike. We were worried that the other five people had not arrived but could do nothing but only hope that they had mistakenly gone to the slave dungeons first instead of Kakum. Our driver told us about a monkey sanctuary near by so we decided to check it out.
We collected our Ghanaian money and regrouped and headed off the Kakum National Park, a World Heritage Site known for its endangered species and canopy walk. Driving out of the city through the rural villages was like stepping into a photo from National Geographic on poverty and rural life. Every village we passed was lined up with houses that were falling apart. Right on the outskirts of Takoradi houses appeared to be recycled from bigger and more sophisticated homes and made into livable spaces. As we drove further out houses were built with tin, wood, or brick. But as we got closer to the coast, houses were literally made from mud, brick with thatched roofs. There were so many shops outside of people’s homes. It was evident that these people had minimal or no access to transportation and that small community vendors was what sustained rural life. Our windows were tinted, but whenever the heat would overcome me and I would crack my window people would stare at me so curiously and in awe trying to figure out what planet I had come from. It was so different to see absolutely no suburban life in sight, or at least any that met my western expectations. I felt ashamed that I was feeding off of the stereotypical portrayal of the impoverished third world Africa. I knew that from that moment I would make it a point dig a deeper into African life and to the roots of its problems and try to look past what I had been conditioned to think of Africa.
On our drive out to Kakum, we were stopped at four security checkpoints in various rural communities. It was really frightening, the officers carried heavy artillery and at times even made the cab driver get out and talk and we had no idea why. Prior to our arrival in Takoradi, we had been briefed that it was prohibited to take pictures of government buildings and police, my friend and I had forgotten which resulted in her camera almost getting confiscated by an officer. We were very lucky that day that we did not get hassled by any officers. I learned later from other SAS students that officers had threatened to not let them pass without paying them in cash. I was shocked that corruption was so in your face and that there was not a thing we could do about it. I felt really vulnerable and on edge not knowing what to expect and whether or not we would make it or not.
The drive was a lot longer than we anticipated it to be. Our driver did not seem to know the area really well and didn’t speak much English. We had to make numerous stops to ask for directions, it was really sketchy because we had absolutely no idea where we were. After reaching the sign for the national park, we had to drive down another road that took about an hour past more rural communities. My friends and I realized that the two other taxis with our friends were now nowhere in sight. We hoped that they were not lost.
On this part of the drive I got to see a lot more of the Ghanaian lifestyle. In these villages there were more shops and more people in closer living arrangements. Everywhere I looked there were women and even men carrying and balancing all kinds of foods and goods in huge bowls on their heads. I got a better sense of the Ghanaian community. Even though these people were living in the most minimal conditions I saw no one who looked unhappy. They were all so content, moving slowly and gracefully through their day.
We arrived at a checkpoint stand to pay for our entrance into Kakum, at the stand two young boys approached our cab to buy cocoa from them. “Did you pick this yourself?” I asked. He replied yes and I was shocked and suddenly reminded of the film that we had watched and discussed in Global Studies about the children in the West Africa who are child laborers on cocoa farms, harvesting the plant for US chocolate corporations. But when I looked into the eyes of this young boy, I saw no sign of exhaustion or unhappiness, it seemed so normal as if he was selling newspapers on the street back in the States. Don’t we consider that normal? I thought about the rural villages that I had passed, and what their family structure must be like, and realized that not all African families could afford to be a nuclear family. It occurred to me that it was normal for a family who lived in such bare minimal conditions to send their child off to work to help support their family. They did not see child labor as taboo the way we see it from the perspective of a developed and model country. I realized that this was their way of life and that we were in a developing country and therefore could not criticize the way they choose to sustain themselves (After seeing evidence of “child labor” I understand it as more of a cultural norm and is how people in these countries get by. I feel that as long as children are not being physically, sexually, or mentally mistreated in these working conditions, that we really have no business to decide if what they are doing is wrong and unethical by our standards). I thought about how ironic it was, that countries in the global north expect developing countries to follow in our footsteps, like modeling after the north will automatically lift them from poverty, yet we are the ones who continue to perpetuate the very root of many of these problems; and don’t for a second take into account what cultural barriers we must break in order to attain these western expectations.
Many of the children that I did encounter while I was in Ghana did attend school, but the others that did not were bright in other ways. They could speak over two different languages, or were skilled in some sort of trade. Sure they were not educated by western standards but were rich in skill, something that I saw as more important to their lifestyle. I began to think a lot about cultural integration, foreign aid, and the help that the global north is so proud to be a part of in these developing countries. I wondered if it really helped and if it was really necessary for them to be involved in places that we really know nothing about. Sure I may not be an expert in globalization and have not fully studied the lives of Ghanaians, so there is room for debate and if anyone would like to disagree with my observations and opinions I think that that is fine. But I feel that I made keen observations to what I was seeing around me and incorporating it with my prior knowledge of Ghana and the many aspects that I had learned about the country.
Finally, we were at Kakum! We looked around the visitor area for a while and could not find any of our friends. We asked the workers to look out for them and proceeded with our hike. The canopy walk was all that we had time to do in order to fit the slave dungeon tour into our day. Me, Cassie, and Kenji walked down a path for about fifteen minutes. On our walk we talked a lot with our guide about the different villages that we had passed on our way out to Kakum. He said that many of the villages were different tribes who spoke different languages and African dialects. There are more than 800 different dialects in the continent of Africa, many of them spoken in Ghana alone. He went on to talk about the unification of Africa, and the reason why it is so difficult for the continent to be unified is because of the language barrier throughout the continent, from country to country, even between villages. I predicted that the unifying language would be English. Everywhere I have been, there are always a handful of people you will find that know enough English to help you out. I wondered what Africa would be like if they lost their many dialects and languages to the uniformity of English. Until only a small community of people, like the Native Hawaiians, could speak the native language. In a way I hoped that these countries did not unite, for simple fact that they were just too interesting to lose such a rich culture so that they could speak to one another.
We soon stood at the foot of the most incredible bridge! Suspended 140 feet in the air by colossal trees in the middle of the jungle stood a network of several narrow bridges connected together forming a gigantic circle! I was blown away! The bridges’ base was a ladder, with a thin piece of wood on top, with netting wrapped from the bottom of the latter up and around the sides to make us feel just a little bit safe. At first we walked very cautiously over the bridge trying to stay balanced as the bridge wobbled and shook in every direction, I was really nervous. By the second bridge I wasn’t nervous anymore and started running and taking pictures and having a great time! It was really scary at first, but I felt myself letting go, first of my fear of heights, and then of my worries that I had had earlier about being in Ghana and being so far away from my home and the rest of the world. Running around and suddenly being unafraid sent a serge of accomplishment and feeling of ease through me. I felt that if I just let things go and tried things out that I could stop being so critical of everything, and extract the pure essence out of my surroundings.
We had the best view of the jungle up in the canopy looking down at all of the jungle life and birds, and butterflies. After the canopy walk we went back to the visitor area where we found Charlie, Emily, Erik, and Darlene sitting around waiting for us. I was surprised that we had not run into them on the hike. We were worried that the other five people had not arrived but could do nothing but only hope that they had mistakenly gone to the slave dungeons first instead of Kakum. Our driver told us about a monkey sanctuary near by so we decided to check it out.
The small sanctuary was run by a Dutch couple that had moved to Ghana to start a lodge, but fell in love with the Ghanaian animals and had a change in agendas. The couple was so dedicated to the animals, they explained to us that they were living off of their savings and used the small amount of money they charged guests to purchase food for the animals. They had about eight monkeys, a couple of endangered cats, a snake, turtles, and crocodiles. We walked around their property in awe of how she maintained all the animals and how well they all got along. A few monkeys she had raised from birth lived in her home.
The woman was very informative and kind to us but for the first time I saw racial segregation in the most unlikely territory. When we asked to bring our taxi drivers into the property, the woman looked at them and with a very stern look on her face said, “No, I would rather not, they can stay outside and wait.” I was really taken back that she would not let our drivers in. It made me start to dislike like her, she had not come off as an oppressive type of person. I wondered why she had chosen Ghana knowing that she would be a minority in the village. I respected everything that she was doing for the animals but only got more upset when she started to complain about how she had to pay “white” prices for her property. As you should, I thought to myself.
By the end of the monkey tour we were pressed for time. It was already 3:30 pm and we needed to get to the slave castles by four or maybe five to catch the last tour for the day. We had only eaten breakfast and had not taken enough water with us and were dehydrated and starving and had no time to stop for food.
Driving out the long dirt stretch to Cape Coast passing the villages and people I re- evaluated everything that I was seeing. I saw the villages as very tribal and traditional in the way they were organized as a community. What seemed out of place in these villages were the ads that were glued or painted on to peoples’ homes, and billboard after billboard selling products that the locals obviously had no use for or could even afford. I began to wonder why these ads were necessary, to cater to us? I imagined what these villages would look like if the ads were taken down, if there was no road leading to their precious national park, how simple their lives would be.
We finally arrived at Cape Coast Castle. I got out and walked to the entrance, it was a very moving experience to set foot at the heart of where the Trans-Atlantic slave trade had taken place; where millions of Africans had been displaced and sold off as property to build up most of the thriving economies in the Americas today. At first glance, you would never guess that such a beautiful piece of architecture was home to such a horrific part of history. We were shown around the museum and looked at the remnants of Ghana’s colonial past. The museum had a lot of disturbing pictures and artifacts that depicted how slaves were treated.
The woman was very informative and kind to us but for the first time I saw racial segregation in the most unlikely territory. When we asked to bring our taxi drivers into the property, the woman looked at them and with a very stern look on her face said, “No, I would rather not, they can stay outside and wait.” I was really taken back that she would not let our drivers in. It made me start to dislike like her, she had not come off as an oppressive type of person. I wondered why she had chosen Ghana knowing that she would be a minority in the village. I respected everything that she was doing for the animals but only got more upset when she started to complain about how she had to pay “white” prices for her property. As you should, I thought to myself.
By the end of the monkey tour we were pressed for time. It was already 3:30 pm and we needed to get to the slave castles by four or maybe five to catch the last tour for the day. We had only eaten breakfast and had not taken enough water with us and were dehydrated and starving and had no time to stop for food.
Driving out the long dirt stretch to Cape Coast passing the villages and people I re- evaluated everything that I was seeing. I saw the villages as very tribal and traditional in the way they were organized as a community. What seemed out of place in these villages were the ads that were glued or painted on to peoples’ homes, and billboard after billboard selling products that the locals obviously had no use for or could even afford. I began to wonder why these ads were necessary, to cater to us? I imagined what these villages would look like if the ads were taken down, if there was no road leading to their precious national park, how simple their lives would be.
We finally arrived at Cape Coast Castle. I got out and walked to the entrance, it was a very moving experience to set foot at the heart of where the Trans-Atlantic slave trade had taken place; where millions of Africans had been displaced and sold off as property to build up most of the thriving economies in the Americas today. At first glance, you would never guess that such a beautiful piece of architecture was home to such a horrific part of history. We were shown around the museum and looked at the remnants of Ghana’s colonial past. The museum had a lot of disturbing pictures and artifacts that depicted how slaves were treated.
After learning about most of the castle’s history, we were taken to the male and female holding dungeons, where slaves would spend weeks until they were shipped across the world. I was still in disbelief that I was in an actual holding dungeon. The conditions were horrific. It was pitch black aside from the newly installed lighting, the only ventilation in the dungeon were two small holes that allowed tiny beams of light to permeate through. We were told that up to 700 slaves were kept in the room that was no bigger than a small classroom.
Next, we went to doors of no return. Once slaves were marched through these doors, they were forever displaced from Africa. Walking though the doors really intensified my experience. I imagined what it must have felt like to not know anything, where I was going, if I would ever see my home or anyone I knew, it was such a scary and overwhelming thing to imagine.
Leaving the slave castle, I felt very fortunate for my freedom. I had known very little about slavery prior to my visit to the castle and was glad that I was able to learn first hand everything about it, to even feel what it must have been like.
I caught my first glimpse of the famous African sunset on my way back to the taxi. It was a beautiful pale red that you could stare at and not even blink. I was soon distracted by a large group of men and children who were asking me for money. They suddenly shook me up from a very motionless and quiet state and made me very tense. I didn’t know what to say, they were tugging and grabbing at me helplessly. I couldn’t turn away from them. They all followed me to my cab and I gave one of the girls a five-dollar bill. I handed her the US dollar and as soon as I gave it to her a man ripped it out of her hand and knocked off the plantain she was holding on her head. I started to panic and locked all the doors in the cab, there was a commotion outside people were trying to get the money back from the man and the girl ran back to my window crying and asking me for more money, and at this point there was really nothing more that I could spare. I was shocked, people were trying to open our doors as we drove away. I realized then that money was really not the solution to their problems and not what I should have given them. I wished that I had had a book or some food or some pens, anything of that sort would have been something that they really could have used.
We rode back in the dark. I was surprised to see people running on the sides of the road, and small fires spread out in every village that we passed. I forced myself to stay awake and keep alert, the security check points seemed a lot more scary than they were earlier. It took about two hours to reach the port where we had to walk down the long eerie looking path back to the boat. It was really nice to be back, I was drained, tired, and starving. I ate and went straight to bed.
Day 2: Six hours later, I was up and rushed off to volunteer with Habitat for Humanity Ghana. The three-hour drive was a lot longer than I had anticipated. We took a different route than the previous day and drove through the twin city of Sekondi, a more water and agriculture based city. So many people stared at us in our fancy air-conditioned bus as we drove out through to the village, we looked so out of place. I saw people working on their land and a lot of children walking to school.
We took a turn into a village, one that looked slightly more developed than most that we had passed on the way out. It was difficult for the bus to maneuver through the narrow roads of the village. We got off the bus and walked down a long path that took us to a clearing in the back of the village where four brick houses were being constructed. We were told that we would be building houses for teachers and government workers. The local workers had already put together most of the framework for the house we just needed to help them with the more tedious tasks. Me and four three other students helped one of the locals dig out an eight-foot ditch for the sewage system of the house. It had already been dug out about four feet deep when we got there. I started working very energetically giving it my all, but within an hour the nonstop digging, tilling, and heat from the sun really got to me. I was drenched in sweat and dirt. The four of us took shifts, while two dug, two would rest, and this continued on for the next couple of hours. Every once in a while one of the local workers would come by and help us out. He wore no shoes, and in five minutes would dig out more than what we could accomplish in twenty minutes of digging.
Lunch arrived and we ate a delicious combo of spicy rice and chicken. A lot of the workers’ children were in the area so we got a chance to play with them. I showed them how to use my camera and they had such a great time with it, they didn’t want to give it back.
When we got back to our project, I felt really accomplished, we had managed to dig out a good three feet of the ditch. Our next assignment was to carry bricks to set up a foundation for a house. This project was equally exhausting if not harder than our first assignment. The bricks were heavy it was hard to stack them on top of each other. But soon, everyone joined in, walking back and forth picking up and stacking bricks, until were finished sooner than we had expected. We all felt really good that we had all managed to fully complete one of the tasks for the day. I dug a little bit more until we were ready to leave. My arms and my back were killing me, but I was really proud of what we had done.
Day 3: I decided to finally take a little bit of a rest from being constantly on the go. I made plans to go out around town with my friends Wang Fang and Rachel. The previous day, Wang Fang had met two students on her visit to a local middle school and they wanted to hang out with us and take us around town and on their fathers boat.
I managed to spot out the cab driver that had driven us out to Kakum the first day I was there. This helped us to quickly get out of the swarm of cab drivers that were eyeing us out as potential customers. We ate at a local restaurant that some of the lifelong learners had suggested, thinking that there would be local Ghanaian dishes. To our surprise, it was an upscale pricy international food restaurant that catered to foreign businessmen while they were in town. We were a little disappointed that lunch was so expensive but were starving and knew of no where else to go.
Next, we walked through Takoradi’s Market Circle filled with vendors galore! I got to see what the market was like during a regular business day. People were selling things everywhere some in shops, some under small umbrellas, and others out in the sun. Here, the people did not bombard us with things to buy like back at the port, but watched us and let us choose freely and were very helpful in telling us about their products. We were really drawn to the Ghanaian fabric stores. Most of the fabrics were handmade comprised of vibrant colors and patterns and shapes stitched together and ready made. There were a lot of food vendors selling barbequed fish and other kinds of meat that looked very unappetizing for my taste.
People moved very slowly from shop to shop and throughout the market. I felt like we stood out mostly because we were so fast paced and were quickly moving from place to place. I found a very colorful bead shop and got two hand painted bracelets made for me with beads that the slaves used to trade with foreign merchants.
We didn’t have much time in the market because we had to meet up with the girls to pick them up from school. We left and went to a really nice part of town called Chapel Hill with larger gated houses on the hillside. We arrived right before students could leave, while Wang Fang went to get the girls, Rachel and I got to meet and talk with a kindergarten class. They were the most adorable and well behaved kids. They greeted us with hugs and laughter and were so curious to get to know us. We introduced ourselves and got to hear a little about them and their names and how old they were. When Wang Fang got back, we had a group of children glued to us who were refusing to let go. I really wanted to stay longer and play with them or teach them English but it was time for us to leave.
Louisa and Juliana, both middle school students were great guides for the rest of the day. They showed us the local radio station, informed us when it was appropriate to take out our cameras, and gave us a tour around Chapel Hill. After walking around the neighborhood, we took a cab back to the port to meet up with Juliana’s father so that he could show us around his boat.
We got to the port and Earnest, Juliana’s father, showed us around the tug boat that he operated, the same boat that had brought the MV Explorer into the port. I was genuinely interested in what he was showing us, where the cockpit was, the engine room, and a tour of the deck. He was so kind and was so knowledgeable on everything that we asked him. At the end of our tour he offered to take us to a local restaurant that his wife cooked at. We were very excited because this would be our first Ghanaian meal.
He took us to a local hotel outside of the city, where we got to meet Juliana’s younger sister and mother. They were so interested in learning about our travels and told us a lot about Ghana and about their family life. They talked about school and how they, like most Ghanaians really valued education. Juliana had seven other siblings, who all attended private schools. Like most Ghanaian families, Juliana’s really seemed to put everything extra that they had into their children and for their future
Soon, Juliana’s mother brought out Banku, a Ghanaian dish served with a thick spicy soup and fish and two doughy balls made from a grain called cassava. We ate the dish in the traditional way with our right hand. I was really concerned with the cleanliness of my hands, but I did not want to be disrespectful and ate with my hand, and soon really enjoyed it. They gave us a spoon to scoop up the soup, but most of the meal we ate with our hands. It was my first time eating with my hands but I was having so much fun doing it. When we were finished Juliana’s mother insisted that we not pay her, “You are guests,” she scolded. We were so thankful that Juliana’s family had shown us such generosity. We thanked her mother and promised to send their family a gift when we got home.
Earnest drove us to their home so that he could drop off his youngest daughter. I was a little bit nervous, it was already dusk and we were entering one of the very rural neighborhoods, but driving through and looking around at people, smiling and waving to them, I could tell that many were just good people. Earnest told us about his neighborhood and that there was hardly any crime, drugs, or violence. People lived so peacefully in these neighborhoods. He explained to us that the land was still controlled by kings and chiefs, who leased or sold land off to residents. I thought that it was really interesting the way that the Ghanaians incorporated the traditional ways of living into modern pace of life.
I didn’t get the sense that I was in any danger in this neighborhood. We soon pulled into their driveway, in the back of the rural neighborhood. Their house was massive with a well and even a cottage that Earnest had built. We got to go inside and meet most of Juliana’s older and younger siblings. They all asked Wang Fang to say different Chinese phrases, which I thought was really cute. It was getting really late so Earnest took us back to the port. On the ride back we talked a lot about Ghanaian communities and politics, and how the traditional chiefdom structure had an almost equal say in the community as the government. I thought that it was great that Ghana maintained such a good balance between culture and modernism.
We got back to the port and thanked Earnest for showing us around and taking us in for the day. It blew my mind again of the generosity that all of the people I had met in these countries had shown to me. We walked back to the ship and waved goodbye to Earnest.
When I got back to my cabin, by room mate was there waiting for me. “We’re leaving to go to the beach lodge at 9:30,” she said. We had made plans to go to a beach lodge for her birthday that night but were not sure if plans would fall through because we had not seen or heard from each other for two days. It was 8pm so I rushed to get everything I needed for the beach lodge. I was a little on the fence about leaving to a place that was an hour away late at night, but figured to just go with the flow and play everything by ear. We got to Timitz Square and our group of eight had doubled.
Next, we went to doors of no return. Once slaves were marched through these doors, they were forever displaced from Africa. Walking though the doors really intensified my experience. I imagined what it must have felt like to not know anything, where I was going, if I would ever see my home or anyone I knew, it was such a scary and overwhelming thing to imagine.
Leaving the slave castle, I felt very fortunate for my freedom. I had known very little about slavery prior to my visit to the castle and was glad that I was able to learn first hand everything about it, to even feel what it must have been like.
I caught my first glimpse of the famous African sunset on my way back to the taxi. It was a beautiful pale red that you could stare at and not even blink. I was soon distracted by a large group of men and children who were asking me for money. They suddenly shook me up from a very motionless and quiet state and made me very tense. I didn’t know what to say, they were tugging and grabbing at me helplessly. I couldn’t turn away from them. They all followed me to my cab and I gave one of the girls a five-dollar bill. I handed her the US dollar and as soon as I gave it to her a man ripped it out of her hand and knocked off the plantain she was holding on her head. I started to panic and locked all the doors in the cab, there was a commotion outside people were trying to get the money back from the man and the girl ran back to my window crying and asking me for more money, and at this point there was really nothing more that I could spare. I was shocked, people were trying to open our doors as we drove away. I realized then that money was really not the solution to their problems and not what I should have given them. I wished that I had had a book or some food or some pens, anything of that sort would have been something that they really could have used.
We rode back in the dark. I was surprised to see people running on the sides of the road, and small fires spread out in every village that we passed. I forced myself to stay awake and keep alert, the security check points seemed a lot more scary than they were earlier. It took about two hours to reach the port where we had to walk down the long eerie looking path back to the boat. It was really nice to be back, I was drained, tired, and starving. I ate and went straight to bed.
Day 2: Six hours later, I was up and rushed off to volunteer with Habitat for Humanity Ghana. The three-hour drive was a lot longer than I had anticipated. We took a different route than the previous day and drove through the twin city of Sekondi, a more water and agriculture based city. So many people stared at us in our fancy air-conditioned bus as we drove out through to the village, we looked so out of place. I saw people working on their land and a lot of children walking to school.
We took a turn into a village, one that looked slightly more developed than most that we had passed on the way out. It was difficult for the bus to maneuver through the narrow roads of the village. We got off the bus and walked down a long path that took us to a clearing in the back of the village where four brick houses were being constructed. We were told that we would be building houses for teachers and government workers. The local workers had already put together most of the framework for the house we just needed to help them with the more tedious tasks. Me and four three other students helped one of the locals dig out an eight-foot ditch for the sewage system of the house. It had already been dug out about four feet deep when we got there. I started working very energetically giving it my all, but within an hour the nonstop digging, tilling, and heat from the sun really got to me. I was drenched in sweat and dirt. The four of us took shifts, while two dug, two would rest, and this continued on for the next couple of hours. Every once in a while one of the local workers would come by and help us out. He wore no shoes, and in five minutes would dig out more than what we could accomplish in twenty minutes of digging.
Lunch arrived and we ate a delicious combo of spicy rice and chicken. A lot of the workers’ children were in the area so we got a chance to play with them. I showed them how to use my camera and they had such a great time with it, they didn’t want to give it back.
When we got back to our project, I felt really accomplished, we had managed to dig out a good three feet of the ditch. Our next assignment was to carry bricks to set up a foundation for a house. This project was equally exhausting if not harder than our first assignment. The bricks were heavy it was hard to stack them on top of each other. But soon, everyone joined in, walking back and forth picking up and stacking bricks, until were finished sooner than we had expected. We all felt really good that we had all managed to fully complete one of the tasks for the day. I dug a little bit more until we were ready to leave. My arms and my back were killing me, but I was really proud of what we had done.
Day 3: I decided to finally take a little bit of a rest from being constantly on the go. I made plans to go out around town with my friends Wang Fang and Rachel. The previous day, Wang Fang had met two students on her visit to a local middle school and they wanted to hang out with us and take us around town and on their fathers boat.
I managed to spot out the cab driver that had driven us out to Kakum the first day I was there. This helped us to quickly get out of the swarm of cab drivers that were eyeing us out as potential customers. We ate at a local restaurant that some of the lifelong learners had suggested, thinking that there would be local Ghanaian dishes. To our surprise, it was an upscale pricy international food restaurant that catered to foreign businessmen while they were in town. We were a little disappointed that lunch was so expensive but were starving and knew of no where else to go.
Next, we walked through Takoradi’s Market Circle filled with vendors galore! I got to see what the market was like during a regular business day. People were selling things everywhere some in shops, some under small umbrellas, and others out in the sun. Here, the people did not bombard us with things to buy like back at the port, but watched us and let us choose freely and were very helpful in telling us about their products. We were really drawn to the Ghanaian fabric stores. Most of the fabrics were handmade comprised of vibrant colors and patterns and shapes stitched together and ready made. There were a lot of food vendors selling barbequed fish and other kinds of meat that looked very unappetizing for my taste.
People moved very slowly from shop to shop and throughout the market. I felt like we stood out mostly because we were so fast paced and were quickly moving from place to place. I found a very colorful bead shop and got two hand painted bracelets made for me with beads that the slaves used to trade with foreign merchants.
We didn’t have much time in the market because we had to meet up with the girls to pick them up from school. We left and went to a really nice part of town called Chapel Hill with larger gated houses on the hillside. We arrived right before students could leave, while Wang Fang went to get the girls, Rachel and I got to meet and talk with a kindergarten class. They were the most adorable and well behaved kids. They greeted us with hugs and laughter and were so curious to get to know us. We introduced ourselves and got to hear a little about them and their names and how old they were. When Wang Fang got back, we had a group of children glued to us who were refusing to let go. I really wanted to stay longer and play with them or teach them English but it was time for us to leave.
Louisa and Juliana, both middle school students were great guides for the rest of the day. They showed us the local radio station, informed us when it was appropriate to take out our cameras, and gave us a tour around Chapel Hill. After walking around the neighborhood, we took a cab back to the port to meet up with Juliana’s father so that he could show us around his boat.
We got to the port and Earnest, Juliana’s father, showed us around the tug boat that he operated, the same boat that had brought the MV Explorer into the port. I was genuinely interested in what he was showing us, where the cockpit was, the engine room, and a tour of the deck. He was so kind and was so knowledgeable on everything that we asked him. At the end of our tour he offered to take us to a local restaurant that his wife cooked at. We were very excited because this would be our first Ghanaian meal.
He took us to a local hotel outside of the city, where we got to meet Juliana’s younger sister and mother. They were so interested in learning about our travels and told us a lot about Ghana and about their family life. They talked about school and how they, like most Ghanaians really valued education. Juliana had seven other siblings, who all attended private schools. Like most Ghanaian families, Juliana’s really seemed to put everything extra that they had into their children and for their future
Soon, Juliana’s mother brought out Banku, a Ghanaian dish served with a thick spicy soup and fish and two doughy balls made from a grain called cassava. We ate the dish in the traditional way with our right hand. I was really concerned with the cleanliness of my hands, but I did not want to be disrespectful and ate with my hand, and soon really enjoyed it. They gave us a spoon to scoop up the soup, but most of the meal we ate with our hands. It was my first time eating with my hands but I was having so much fun doing it. When we were finished Juliana’s mother insisted that we not pay her, “You are guests,” she scolded. We were so thankful that Juliana’s family had shown us such generosity. We thanked her mother and promised to send their family a gift when we got home.
Earnest drove us to their home so that he could drop off his youngest daughter. I was a little bit nervous, it was already dusk and we were entering one of the very rural neighborhoods, but driving through and looking around at people, smiling and waving to them, I could tell that many were just good people. Earnest told us about his neighborhood and that there was hardly any crime, drugs, or violence. People lived so peacefully in these neighborhoods. He explained to us that the land was still controlled by kings and chiefs, who leased or sold land off to residents. I thought that it was really interesting the way that the Ghanaians incorporated the traditional ways of living into modern pace of life.
I didn’t get the sense that I was in any danger in this neighborhood. We soon pulled into their driveway, in the back of the rural neighborhood. Their house was massive with a well and even a cottage that Earnest had built. We got to go inside and meet most of Juliana’s older and younger siblings. They all asked Wang Fang to say different Chinese phrases, which I thought was really cute. It was getting really late so Earnest took us back to the port. On the ride back we talked a lot about Ghanaian communities and politics, and how the traditional chiefdom structure had an almost equal say in the community as the government. I thought that it was great that Ghana maintained such a good balance between culture and modernism.
We got back to the port and thanked Earnest for showing us around and taking us in for the day. It blew my mind again of the generosity that all of the people I had met in these countries had shown to me. We walked back to the ship and waved goodbye to Earnest.
When I got back to my cabin, by room mate was there waiting for me. “We’re leaving to go to the beach lodge at 9:30,” she said. We had made plans to go to a beach lodge for her birthday that night but were not sure if plans would fall through because we had not seen or heard from each other for two days. It was 8pm so I rushed to get everything I needed for the beach lodge. I was a little on the fence about leaving to a place that was an hour away late at night, but figured to just go with the flow and play everything by ear. We got to Timitz Square and our group of eight had doubled.
Oh my goodness I thought to myself. I really started to worry that things would not work out and that we would all get lost on the way out there. We left the ship and it was complete madness, we boarded a shuttle to take us to the end of the port and I talked with the driver to see if there was any way that he could get us a bus that would take us all out. He said no promises but he would see what he could do.
We pulled up to a bus on the street and the driver agreed to take us out to Safari Beach Lodge for a great price. I think that all of us were very relieved. It was like going to prom in a party bus all over again, but ten times better. We had such a great time together in the bus, not having a clue where we were going but praying that we would make it safe!
We drove in the dark through rural villages and bushes until we arrived at our destination. My roommate and I had booked an incredible beach villa for her birthday, but it was 12:00am when we got there and it looked like a ghost town. Me, Sarah, Erik, and our driver walked all over the property checking to see if there was a soul at the place, there was absolutely no one. We were really bummed because the lodge looked amazing, secluded overlooking the Atlantic Ocean! We went back to the chaos of the bus and told them that we would unfortunately have to turn back. Our driver protested and said that he knew of another beach lodge that wasn’t too far away at Busua beach.
We decided to take a chance. The drive was about a half an hour away and we arrived at 1am to wooden fence that read “Alaska Beach Lodge.” It was getting really late and I wasn’t sure what was going to happen. We pulled into the quiet piece of property, and looked around from the bus and again saw no one in sight. We waited and walked around, until we heard a small voice “What’s all the commotion in the middle o’ de nite?” A tall woman approached us with medusa-like hair holding a bright lantern, “I’m soooo sorry to bother you so late, but can we stay here?” I asked. “Yes yes no problem no problem how many I show you where you can stay.” Uhh there’s seventeen of us…is that okay?” I replied. “Ohm wow, okay, okay come come follow me it’s aulright.” “My name is Sydney, thank you so much for letting us stay here so late I’m so sorry to bother you.” “No problem don’t worry, my name’s Patricia, I show you around.”
She led us to our rustic bungalows, rounded stone huts with thatched roof’s spread out across the property facing the ocean. Patricia went to get her co-worker Zach as we began to assemble into our three rooms split between the seventeen of us. The huts were very simple one with two bunk beds that looked like they could collapse at any minute, and the other two huts with two full beds. Patricia laid out a mattress on the floor for us and gave us extra blankets and pillows. We were so grateful that she had taken us in. It was already 2am, but our night was just beginning.
“Let me show you the beach!” Patricia motioned us to a beachfront patio with a bar and tables covered by loose fabric held up by wooden beams. There were hammocks suspended by coconut trees that helped to fence off the Alaska Beach Lodge property. Patricia explained to us that she was married to an Alaskan man and had been to Alaska twice. Although the lodge had no resemblance to Alaska whatsoever, she dedicated the name of the lodge to the man and the far away country that she had fallen in love with.
She and her co-worker turned all of the lights back on and opened everything back up for us, “Make yourself at home,” Patricia insisted. Zach started up a campfire for us on the beach and made the night absolutely perfect. We sang happy birthday to my roommate Sarah and rushed to the Ocean! It was my first time swimming in the Atlantic Ocean and there was no better way to be swimming in it than under the stars being pushed by the currents watching the glowing campfire.
I woke up to the next morning to a group of people singing in an African dialect on the beach. It was so nice to wake up and run out and greet the ocean again, something that I hadn’t done in a really long time, it reminded me of home. The beach was gorgeous in the morning, stretching out for miles down a deserted coast. I skimmed the beach to see where the singing was coming from and noticed a fishing boat connected to rope with people on shore who were singing and pulling the boat in closer and closer. I jumped in the water to clean myself off from the previous night and walked along to where the locals were on the beach. When I got there, they were just on their last tug to bringing in their fishing net. I was so interested in the way that they fished and how they collectively worked together to pull in the boat and the fishing net.
Once they everything was brought back to shore, the locals gathered around the net to see what they had caught for their morning catch. I motioned to ask if it was okay that I gathered with them and take pictures. They approved and were very welcoming and seemed happy to have my company. I watched as they picked through the fish they wanted and tossed them into large metal bowls and distributed the fish to different people. They all worked very well together and I did not see anyone complaining about who got more or less fish. They asked if I wanted to help them sort through the fish, but I politely refused.
I continued my way down the beach to a stream and on my way met a local named Nathanel. We talked about the lifestyle of the Busua beach community, how everyone looked out for one another and how they relied on fishing to support both their income and food supply for their families. I really respected their lifestyle and wished that some of their ways of life could somehow trickle down onto western ideals.
The rest of the day, I took the time to indulge in the leisure time that come with the perks of traveling. I have been keeping my head just above water this semester stacking myself with workload after workload, so it felt really nice to just let go and relax in the most peaceful scenery. Many other SAS students joined us at the beach, it was nice we got to know each other off of the ship and socialize on land. Local children began to check us out, and were very curious to get to know us. At first they were very shy, but we soon could not keep away from us. We played with them for the rest of the day, giving them piggyback rides, teaching them how to take pictures with our cameras, and running with them up and down the beach. They were so full of energy and were just the most happy and bright kids.
We had a great time on the beach with them, and as sunset started to approach we realized that the next fishing boat was on its way in. The children pulled over to their parents who were helping to pull in the fishing boat and insisted that we help out. They taught us the songs and chants that they were singing as we helped to pull in the catch. We tried to copy their beautiful tones and harmony but it was nearly impossible, but fun anyway. It was a lot harder than I had expected to pull in the boat even with lots of help and manpower. We chanted and sang and continued to play with the children and pull in the boat. Soon, just a few more yanks and we had the boat and the fishing net on shore! Everyone gathered around the boat to see what they had caught. We all felt a sense of accomplishment and part of the catch. The locals let us help them sort out the fish into the bowls thanked us for our hard work and help. It was really fun to have been a part of their traditional way of fishing.
As soon as we turned to head back to the lodge it was dark could see nothing else but the lights from the beach patio of the Alaska Beach lodge in front of us. It had been a really great day for all of us, but we were soon having trouble keeping our eyes open any longer. We soon called it a night early for once.
We were awakened early the next morning by a thunderstorm on the beach. I insisted that everyone wake up and come out to watch it with me. It my first time ever seeing lightening on the beach, it was one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen. I got cozy in one of the hammocks and laid back and reflected on my time in Ghana as I watched and listened to the thunder and lightening dance across the sky. I knew then that I would return to Africa, to one day learn more about their rich way of life, and give back to them in a constructive way.
We left the Alaska Beach Lodge soon after and headed back to the ship. On the way back, I wished that I could have stayed in Ghana for a month longer. I had seen and observed so much while I was there, of a world much more complex yet simplistic than what we are used to in the West. I managed to break down barriers that I had built up coming into Ghana; my stereotypes of the country, and my reactions to what I was seeing around me. I think that Africa is place that everyone should visit at least once in their life, because in it you will find some of the most amazing remnants of culture, lifestyle, and language that are almost untainted by the modern world, something that is really hard to find in this day and age.
We pulled up to a bus on the street and the driver agreed to take us out to Safari Beach Lodge for a great price. I think that all of us were very relieved. It was like going to prom in a party bus all over again, but ten times better. We had such a great time together in the bus, not having a clue where we were going but praying that we would make it safe!
We drove in the dark through rural villages and bushes until we arrived at our destination. My roommate and I had booked an incredible beach villa for her birthday, but it was 12:00am when we got there and it looked like a ghost town. Me, Sarah, Erik, and our driver walked all over the property checking to see if there was a soul at the place, there was absolutely no one. We were really bummed because the lodge looked amazing, secluded overlooking the Atlantic Ocean! We went back to the chaos of the bus and told them that we would unfortunately have to turn back. Our driver protested and said that he knew of another beach lodge that wasn’t too far away at Busua beach.
We decided to take a chance. The drive was about a half an hour away and we arrived at 1am to wooden fence that read “Alaska Beach Lodge.” It was getting really late and I wasn’t sure what was going to happen. We pulled into the quiet piece of property, and looked around from the bus and again saw no one in sight. We waited and walked around, until we heard a small voice “What’s all the commotion in the middle o’ de nite?” A tall woman approached us with medusa-like hair holding a bright lantern, “I’m soooo sorry to bother you so late, but can we stay here?” I asked. “Yes yes no problem no problem how many I show you where you can stay.” Uhh there’s seventeen of us…is that okay?” I replied. “Ohm wow, okay, okay come come follow me it’s aulright.” “My name is Sydney, thank you so much for letting us stay here so late I’m so sorry to bother you.” “No problem don’t worry, my name’s Patricia, I show you around.”
She led us to our rustic bungalows, rounded stone huts with thatched roof’s spread out across the property facing the ocean. Patricia went to get her co-worker Zach as we began to assemble into our three rooms split between the seventeen of us. The huts were very simple one with two bunk beds that looked like they could collapse at any minute, and the other two huts with two full beds. Patricia laid out a mattress on the floor for us and gave us extra blankets and pillows. We were so grateful that she had taken us in. It was already 2am, but our night was just beginning.
“Let me show you the beach!” Patricia motioned us to a beachfront patio with a bar and tables covered by loose fabric held up by wooden beams. There were hammocks suspended by coconut trees that helped to fence off the Alaska Beach Lodge property. Patricia explained to us that she was married to an Alaskan man and had been to Alaska twice. Although the lodge had no resemblance to Alaska whatsoever, she dedicated the name of the lodge to the man and the far away country that she had fallen in love with.
She and her co-worker turned all of the lights back on and opened everything back up for us, “Make yourself at home,” Patricia insisted. Zach started up a campfire for us on the beach and made the night absolutely perfect. We sang happy birthday to my roommate Sarah and rushed to the Ocean! It was my first time swimming in the Atlantic Ocean and there was no better way to be swimming in it than under the stars being pushed by the currents watching the glowing campfire.
I woke up to the next morning to a group of people singing in an African dialect on the beach. It was so nice to wake up and run out and greet the ocean again, something that I hadn’t done in a really long time, it reminded me of home. The beach was gorgeous in the morning, stretching out for miles down a deserted coast. I skimmed the beach to see where the singing was coming from and noticed a fishing boat connected to rope with people on shore who were singing and pulling the boat in closer and closer. I jumped in the water to clean myself off from the previous night and walked along to where the locals were on the beach. When I got there, they were just on their last tug to bringing in their fishing net. I was so interested in the way that they fished and how they collectively worked together to pull in the boat and the fishing net.
Once they everything was brought back to shore, the locals gathered around the net to see what they had caught for their morning catch. I motioned to ask if it was okay that I gathered with them and take pictures. They approved and were very welcoming and seemed happy to have my company. I watched as they picked through the fish they wanted and tossed them into large metal bowls and distributed the fish to different people. They all worked very well together and I did not see anyone complaining about who got more or less fish. They asked if I wanted to help them sort through the fish, but I politely refused.
I continued my way down the beach to a stream and on my way met a local named Nathanel. We talked about the lifestyle of the Busua beach community, how everyone looked out for one another and how they relied on fishing to support both their income and food supply for their families. I really respected their lifestyle and wished that some of their ways of life could somehow trickle down onto western ideals.
The rest of the day, I took the time to indulge in the leisure time that come with the perks of traveling. I have been keeping my head just above water this semester stacking myself with workload after workload, so it felt really nice to just let go and relax in the most peaceful scenery. Many other SAS students joined us at the beach, it was nice we got to know each other off of the ship and socialize on land. Local children began to check us out, and were very curious to get to know us. At first they were very shy, but we soon could not keep away from us. We played with them for the rest of the day, giving them piggyback rides, teaching them how to take pictures with our cameras, and running with them up and down the beach. They were so full of energy and were just the most happy and bright kids.
We had a great time on the beach with them, and as sunset started to approach we realized that the next fishing boat was on its way in. The children pulled over to their parents who were helping to pull in the fishing boat and insisted that we help out. They taught us the songs and chants that they were singing as we helped to pull in the catch. We tried to copy their beautiful tones and harmony but it was nearly impossible, but fun anyway. It was a lot harder than I had expected to pull in the boat even with lots of help and manpower. We chanted and sang and continued to play with the children and pull in the boat. Soon, just a few more yanks and we had the boat and the fishing net on shore! Everyone gathered around the boat to see what they had caught. We all felt a sense of accomplishment and part of the catch. The locals let us help them sort out the fish into the bowls thanked us for our hard work and help. It was really fun to have been a part of their traditional way of fishing.
As soon as we turned to head back to the lodge it was dark could see nothing else but the lights from the beach patio of the Alaska Beach lodge in front of us. It had been a really great day for all of us, but we were soon having trouble keeping our eyes open any longer. We soon called it a night early for once.
We were awakened early the next morning by a thunderstorm on the beach. I insisted that everyone wake up and come out to watch it with me. It my first time ever seeing lightening on the beach, it was one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen. I got cozy in one of the hammocks and laid back and reflected on my time in Ghana as I watched and listened to the thunder and lightening dance across the sky. I knew then that I would return to Africa, to one day learn more about their rich way of life, and give back to them in a constructive way.
We left the Alaska Beach Lodge soon after and headed back to the ship. On the way back, I wished that I could have stayed in Ghana for a month longer. I had seen and observed so much while I was there, of a world much more complex yet simplistic than what we are used to in the West. I managed to break down barriers that I had built up coming into Ghana; my stereotypes of the country, and my reactions to what I was seeing around me. I think that Africa is place that everyone should visit at least once in their life, because in it you will find some of the most amazing remnants of culture, lifestyle, and language that are almost untainted by the modern world, something that is really hard to find in this day and age.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Sea Olympics
Last night was the kick off to today’s shipboard tradition of Sea Olympics! In this event, the different floors or “seas” (Aegean, Arabian, Baltic, Bering, Mediterranean, Caribbean, Yellow, and Red), compete in a variety of fun games and events. The prize to overall winning sea is getting to be the first floor to get off the ship in San Diego, avoiding a process that can take up to 12 hours!
The competition kicked off last night at the banner ceremony. Everyone gathered in the Union (the largest meeting room on the ship), to represent our seas wearing our symbolic colors and was judged on our spirit and cheers. All of the different seas made banners to represent their floors and were judged by a panel of deans. The Union was loud and full of energy, everyone was there to win. After a long deliberation, the panel selected my sea, the yellow, and the Baltic Sea tying for first place for the most creative banner! We were so excited to have won the first event and were positive that we were going to win the competition.
Today, the real competition and events began. We divided up into small teams and competed in events like synchronized swimming, volleyball, crab soccer, trivia, limbo, hula hooping, basketball, dodge ball, three legged relay, card tower building, and categorical dress up. There was so much going on all over the ship! I was really surprised to see such a great turnout of participation for all of the events, I had such a great time.
I competed in trivia, and stayed up for hours last night practicing with my group! Unfortunately, we lost our event. We were really bummed. And later found out that the Yellow Sea had lost most of the events, which was really sad. The competition lasted from about 1 pm-5 pm and at the end of the day everyone was exhausted!
We finished up the day with a BBQ on the pool deck after all the events were over. I think that everyone had a really great time, Sea Olympics did a great job at bringing us all together.
At the end of the night we headed back to the Union for the closing ceremony. We got together first and sang, “We are the Champions.” Then we were told the winners: first place, Red Sea, second place, Aegean Sea, and third, Baltic Sea. Unfortunately my sea lost, but I think that we still did a really great job regardless.
Today was supposed to be a “reading day,” but I don’t think anyone got any school work done with all the excitement that went on today! We have three more days until we arrive in Africa, specifically Ghana and I can’t wait!
The competition kicked off last night at the banner ceremony. Everyone gathered in the Union (the largest meeting room on the ship), to represent our seas wearing our symbolic colors and was judged on our spirit and cheers. All of the different seas made banners to represent their floors and were judged by a panel of deans. The Union was loud and full of energy, everyone was there to win. After a long deliberation, the panel selected my sea, the yellow, and the Baltic Sea tying for first place for the most creative banner! We were so excited to have won the first event and were positive that we were going to win the competition.
Today, the real competition and events began. We divided up into small teams and competed in events like synchronized swimming, volleyball, crab soccer, trivia, limbo, hula hooping, basketball, dodge ball, three legged relay, card tower building, and categorical dress up. There was so much going on all over the ship! I was really surprised to see such a great turnout of participation for all of the events, I had such a great time.
I competed in trivia, and stayed up for hours last night practicing with my group! Unfortunately, we lost our event. We were really bummed. And later found out that the Yellow Sea had lost most of the events, which was really sad. The competition lasted from about 1 pm-5 pm and at the end of the day everyone was exhausted!
We finished up the day with a BBQ on the pool deck after all the events were over. I think that everyone had a really great time, Sea Olympics did a great job at bringing us all together.
At the end of the night we headed back to the Union for the closing ceremony. We got together first and sang, “We are the Champions.” Then we were told the winners: first place, Red Sea, second place, Aegean Sea, and third, Baltic Sea. Unfortunately my sea lost, but I think that we still did a really great job regardless.
Today was supposed to be a “reading day,” but I don’t think anyone got any school work done with all the excitement that went on today! We have three more days until we arrive in Africa, specifically Ghana and I can’t wait!
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Obrigada Manaus
It was so hard to leave Manaus. I had such a great time there in so many different ways. I wish I would have had more to time to Blog for each day I was there, but I was very busy, so I will try to do so at my next port and thereafter.
Day 1: Setting foot onto Manaus was nothing like I expected it to be. It was busy, chaotic, cluttered, polluted, the city smelt like chemicals and waste, and it was the hottest and humid I had ever felt. Honestly, my only thought was that I NEEDED to get out of the city! “Where is the Amazon?” I wondered to myself before nearly getting nailed head on by a bus. I am such an anti-city type of person and was really looking forward to Manaus because I had thought that the Amazon would be growing all around me; out of the sewers, eating up the streets, and welcoming me as I walked off the boat. I was wrong. Instead, the streets were filled with chaos and madness of people, street vendors, buses, markets, and trash all swarming around the city as if they were the creatures and exotic plant life that dwelled in the concrete jungle of Manaus!
Manaus was the first port where only a handful of people could speak English, so the simple task of asking for directions consisted of me using my acting skills to express where exactly I wanted to go. After about an hour in the city I felt so incredibly lost. My main objective for the day was to find the opera house because it had a lot of good tourist information and people spoke English there. Next, I needed to find a bank and a good place to eat lunch. My friends and I managed to make it in one piece after walking in what felt like being trapped in a box with no air in the middle of the afternoon. I was shocked at how hot it was in Manaus and found out later that we were visiting during their winter season, I don’t even want to think about what their “hell” season felt like!
The small square that the opera house was situated on made me feel as if I were in Europe. Suddenly, I was no longer in the chaotic streets of Manaus, but in an area that I knew was important. I felt really safe there away from all the confusion of the people, streets and the shops trying to find themselves and sell their way into the modern world. It felt like I had taken a step back in time to what the hopeful city of Manus once looked like. The opera house was one of the most prized possessions of the city that stood so peacefully amongst the madness all around it.
We arrived on a Sunday when most families were at church, but the streets were still packed with people because of their Sunday market. I didn’t get to stay long because I had a field trip, but the vendors were selling beautiful and exotic handmade jewelry, arts, and crafts.
Being in Manaus was the most foreign that I had felt so far, being lost in a crowd of mutual misinterpretations, language barriers, and mannerism. It was mind-blowing at first, but once I managed to navigate myself though their culture and barriers, it wasn’t really so bad.
Day 1: Setting foot onto Manaus was nothing like I expected it to be. It was busy, chaotic, cluttered, polluted, the city smelt like chemicals and waste, and it was the hottest and humid I had ever felt. Honestly, my only thought was that I NEEDED to get out of the city! “Where is the Amazon?” I wondered to myself before nearly getting nailed head on by a bus. I am such an anti-city type of person and was really looking forward to Manaus because I had thought that the Amazon would be growing all around me; out of the sewers, eating up the streets, and welcoming me as I walked off the boat. I was wrong. Instead, the streets were filled with chaos and madness of people, street vendors, buses, markets, and trash all swarming around the city as if they were the creatures and exotic plant life that dwelled in the concrete jungle of Manaus!
Manaus was the first port where only a handful of people could speak English, so the simple task of asking for directions consisted of me using my acting skills to express where exactly I wanted to go. After about an hour in the city I felt so incredibly lost. My main objective for the day was to find the opera house because it had a lot of good tourist information and people spoke English there. Next, I needed to find a bank and a good place to eat lunch. My friends and I managed to make it in one piece after walking in what felt like being trapped in a box with no air in the middle of the afternoon. I was shocked at how hot it was in Manaus and found out later that we were visiting during their winter season, I don’t even want to think about what their “hell” season felt like!
The small square that the opera house was situated on made me feel as if I were in Europe. Suddenly, I was no longer in the chaotic streets of Manaus, but in an area that I knew was important. I felt really safe there away from all the confusion of the people, streets and the shops trying to find themselves and sell their way into the modern world. It felt like I had taken a step back in time to what the hopeful city of Manus once looked like. The opera house was one of the most prized possessions of the city that stood so peacefully amongst the madness all around it.
We arrived on a Sunday when most families were at church, but the streets were still packed with people because of their Sunday market. I didn’t get to stay long because I had a field trip, but the vendors were selling beautiful and exotic handmade jewelry, arts, and crafts.
Being in Manaus was the most foreign that I had felt so far, being lost in a crowd of mutual misinterpretations, language barriers, and mannerism. It was mind-blowing at first, but once I managed to navigate myself though their culture and barriers, it wasn’t really so bad.
Later that day, I went on a field trip touring the city by bus. We drove all through Manaus and learned about the rubber boom that significantly shaped Manaus’ past and present economy. We drove past the palafitas, which are equivalent to the Rio de Janero favela slums, but with less drug crime. It was so shocking to see where most of the working class of Manaus lived in the city. It was worse than any public housing system I had ever seen in the US. Seeing these homes really made me put into perspective what we see as “ghetto” back in the states, to what people in the palafitas must see as a dream home. It broke my heart to see that people could live in such conditions, and made me feel very fortunate for everything that I have. Our tour guide talked to us a lot about relationship of poverty, inequality, and the education system in Brazil and how this relationship is kept in sync by the Brazilian government; because they do not put money into the Brazilian education system to give the impoverished community a chance to excel. In Brazil, like in most parts of the world, minority groups are the ones who take the jobs at the bottom of the pyramid and go without basic human needs such as education and medical attention. I was surprised that our guide had chosen to talk about this subject going from history to the corruption of Brazilian politics, making me realize just how bad their relationship must be.
We ended the tour passing the market and learning about the rivers and where different roads connect. The tour was really interesting and got me more familiar with Manaus and the history behind the city.
That Night: We were fortunate to have an inter-port lecturer on board from Manaus, Professor Lima, who gave us all sorts of information about Manaus. The first night there he offered to take students out to see the school of Samba, a popular style of dance throughout Brazil. He explained that the samba performers were going to be practicing their routine for the public to prepare for the infamous Carnival* festival in Brazil. Little did he know that almost half of the shipboard community would join him!
I didn’t really know what to expect. I thought that the school of samba was going to be a low key get together with some dancing and good music. It turned out to be one of the most amazing and memorable experiences of my life!
When my friends and I got there, we were overwhelmed with everything that was going on. We caught a cab and got dropped off on the middle of the street filled with vendors selling food and drinks with live music playing on a lanai overlooking the street. The Professor arranged a huge table for the students upon our arrival. We walked around on the street as more people began to pour in. It became chaotic with locals everywhere and I began to feel lost and confused again in the sea of Portuguese and music.
More and more people started to gather in the street until it was really hard to walk. We were motioned to move back and cones were set up, at this point I was so lost. Beautifully dressed dancers began to glide their way into the street with a whole troupe of musicians with all sorts of drums! They lined up in rows and no sooner the night had begun!!
The music was not only live, but alive. It was the most vibrant and loud mix of instruments I have ever heard. The music was incredibly loud, we were in the street and could not hear a single word of anything not even our own thoughts! In that moment the only thing that I could comprehend was movement, the music was my language and I was fluent in its rhythm. It was more than just a concert it was a celebration! My friends and I were lucky enough to be standing right in front of the performers, but were the first target to be pulled on the street to dance with them. We didn’t feel one bit embarrassed, or ashamed but followed them and soon everyone followed us into the street!
It was such an incredible experience! Everyone was having a great time, locals, students, teachers, performers, everyone was dancing in the street and celebrating! The music was nonstop for hours, live! It was the happiest I think I have ever seen people collectively and it was such a great feeling!
My friends and I left at around midnight because we had a field trip at 6am that we needed to wake up for. I was bummed that the night had ended so early, but glad that I went out and was able to experience the samba.
Day 2: My roommate and I managed to wake up from a long night. We got on a bus and slept for two hours until we arrived outside of the city and in a rural region called President Figeuiredo out in the Amazonian rainforest. I was finally in the Amazon! It was beautiful, a forest extremely more dense than any I’ve ever seen. There were all types of trees and sounds echoing throughout the forest, it was lovely. We hiked to a huge cave that we learned was where native birds go for shelter and to give birth and mate. It was so interesting with lots of different passageways.
We hiked out of that area and drove to a waterfall/stream. I was shocked to see that water was a brownish red color and decided that I was definitely not going to get in. I always knew that water that color back home was never safe to swim in.
After talking with my tour guide and other people who were getting in the water, I learned that it was that color because of the high concentration of acid that was at the bottom of stream. I didn’t really know if it was true but I was so hot thought to myself “when am I ever going to be in the Amazon rainforest again?” And jumped in! It was beautiful! The water was really clear and it felt so refreshing.
Next, we ate a local Amazonian meal of fish, smoked meat, chicken, fried fish, mixed rice, tucuma smoothies (Amazonian palm fruit), and a banana desert! I was a little hesitant at first to eat anything; it was my first time being given food by people I could not ask questions to. But it turned out to be delicious and one of my favorite meals in Manaus. After lunch we rode on a short zipline across the river. It was a little bit scary; they had us climb up a really thin unstable looking ladder attached to a post where we were instructed to jump off backwards! I was really nervous because it was kids who were running the zipline and I had no idea if they knew what to do, but it turned out to be really fun!
Day 3: My third day there consisted of walking through the city and doing some shopping with my friends. It was crazy to finally go out and explore most of the city streets of Manus, if I didn’t have my friends with me I would have gotten eaten alive and lost out there in the streets. I didn’t realize how many vendors there were until I walked though almost all of the back alleys. Each street seemed to be organized by categories; toys, electronics, clothing, school supplies, candy, hammocks, and a lot more. Yet in them you would find a random combination of other items it was really bizarre.
Earlier that day, I made plans to stay overnight in a jungle lodge for the following day through one of our tour guides. I was ecstatic that I would finally be getting a chance to get out of the city and explore the rest of Amazon! He offered us a really great deal on a place to stay with all accommodations included. I got a group of ten of my friends together and was determined that we would leave the polluted city and explore the jungle and have a real Amazon experience! Yet all day I found myself worrying about if the lodge was going to be safe and reliable.
My friends and I continued to shop for the rest of the day, until we arrived back on the ship to prepare for the next day ahead of us. I went up to the bar to buy water and ran into one of the SAS alums from Brazil. The issue of safety had been on my mind all day, so I decided to ask her personally what she thought about my plans. It turned out that she was the owner of the tour company that I had met the guide through, as well as an SAS alum! At first she was really upset that her employees had solicited a student, but decided that she was not going to fire him, but move him down a position. I felt terrible, but she explained to me the risks that I was taking by going though her employee. She explained how dangerous it was that I had attempted to plan such a trip and that it was smart that I had used my intuition to talk to her about going.
I was really bummed when she cancelled the trip, but thought of it as a blessing in disguise. Who knows what could have happened to me if I would have gone out there in such a remote area? Next, I had to go back to my room to explain to all of my friends why our adventure had been cancelled. Everyone was really bummed too, but was able to understand where the alum was coming from. Because my big plans had been cancelled, that left me with the only option of wandering about the city again. I was really not looking forward to it.
Day 4: I woke up early with my roommate so that we could attempt to do something productive and get out of the city. We ended up walking again through the humid streets and later took a cab to the mall to use the internet. By this point, I thought that my day had surely been wasted. While we were there, we ran into a lot of miscommunication at different stores. But whenever this would happen, an employee would always go out of their way to get someone from a completely opposite side of the mall who spoke a little bit of English so that we could communicate with one another. I found this really helpful, something that you would never see in the US. Something that even I myself would never attempt to do, and I am a pretty nice person.
After the mall we made our way to opera house because I had not yet had a chance to go inside of it. The opera house was constructed during the time of the rubber boom in Manaus, duration of time that both built up and subsequently ran Manaus into poverty.
The opera house was one of the most beautiful structures I have even laid eyes on. It was an ironic symbol of hope and poverty that made it all the more intriguing. We got to watch a youth orchestra rehearse for an upcoming performance, they were wonderful. I felt like I was in the audience of a classical performance. After our tour I began to feel a lot more at ease in Manaus. I felt like I had gotten to know the city so much more and began to feel a stronger sense of connection to the foreign place.
That Night: I felt really exhausted from walking around town for the second day in a row. And had planned on staying in. During dinner, some of my friends invited me go out to another school of samba! At first I was really hesitant because I was tired and already set on staying in. I gave it some thought and decided that I needed to go out at least the last night before I leave!
I ended up losing the girls I was supposed to go out with and found some really cool girls to go with instead. By that time, I felt like I knew the city of Manaus like the back of my hand and we decided to walk to a local restaurant before heading to the school of samba. We met some really sweet local students walking along who spoke some English. They were really helpful and even offered to walk with us to where we needed to go. It really made me think about how I would usually respond when put in the situation to help out a tourist. I realized that I would most likely be standoffish and not as willing to help someone as closely as the people in all of the countries I have visited so far have.
We made it to our destination ate a bit, and then headed off to the school of samba. When we arrived, the atmosphere was completely different. The street was not as busy and no one was really out. I began to feel disappointment once again, like noting was working out for me in Brazil. We went inside this time to watch the samba performers prepare and it just wasn’t the same. We spotted out some SAS kids and attempted to talk with them but the music was way too loud.
There were a couple of locals with them who looked about the same age as us. They were really friendly and were showing us how we should be dancing. It was so hard to talk with them over the music so we began to write what we wanted to say to each other on their cell phones. Turned out that they knew excellent English.
We all stepped out so that we could talk more and ended up all getting along together really well. The boy that we had met was Incaru, and the girl, Hafla or Rama. They told us so much about their lives in Brazil and were so interested and eager to hear about our lives in the states and semester at sea. We all ended up talking for the rest of the night and had such a great time! Hafla introduced us to her parents who were such kind people. They insisted on giving us a ride back to the port at the end of the night because they thought that it would be too dangerous to take a cab. I didn’t feel one bit hesitant and took their offer. We arranged to meet the next day for breakfast at the same place where he and the other SAS students had met and befriended each other the first they arrived.
By the end of the night I was really glad that I had not left for the jungle lodge that day. Meeting Incaru and Hafla was something that really changed my perspective on Manaus and brought me even closer to the city that I had earlier resented.
Day 5: We didn’t have much time because we needed to be back on the ship by 3pm to set sail at 5. My newly found friends and I met Incaru and Hafla for breakfast at the crack of dawn! We had to get there early because Incaru needed to go to work that morning and knew that this may be one of the last times he’d get to see us. The juice bar was a hole in the wall that had the setting of an American diner, but their food and juice was amazing! Incaru ordered us a local favorite which was a breakfast sandwich with tucuma (Amazonian palm fruit), cheese, and egg. It was the most delicious breakfast sandwich I had ever had. I also got a refreshing smoothie with all kinds of Amazonian fruits in it! Soon Hafla arrived with her mother so that they could show us around some museums.
Time started to slip away and soon Incaru had to leave. He told us how much he was going to miss us and how happy he was to have met some very friendly American students. He told us that we would always be welcomed in Manaus and would have a place to stay whenever we wished to come back. We all exchanged contact information and promised to keep in touch. He wrote us a letter telling us how glad he was to have met such great people like us. Less than 24 hours prior to that moment he was no more than a stranger to me, yet in such a short period of time I had managed to discover such a meaningful and genuine friendship, it really touched me. We all hugged and took photographs with one another in hopes of constructing a relationship that would span past the life of a distant memory.
We said our goodbyes and continued the day with Hafla and her mother. They showed us three different museums and took us to a great place for lunch as we continued to talk and share bits and pieces of our lives. The entire day was our interpreter, guide, and friend. We encouraged her to look into semester at sea once she finished high school. She told us her dreams of one day studying in America and getting to see New York city. We explained to her that people in America would be no where near as kind and accepting toward her and to be prepared. Telling her this made me feel really ashamed at the way most people even myself treat outsiders. I hoped with all of my heart that she would one day have the chance to go to the US.
3pm drew closer and closer as we tried to squeeze all of the last minute things into hours then minutes to our departure. I wanted to give Hafla something from Hawaii, but had nothing for her I was really upset. She told me that she had never seen an ocean before and how much she would love to see one, I tried to explain to her what an ocean was like and how absolutely beautiful it is at first glance. I promised to send her pictures of my exotic and far away home and that we would someday meet again in the future.
It was really hard for all of us to say goodbye to her. We had all formed such a memorable and powerful connection to these people in such a short time. Hafla and her mother said that we were welcomed to come to Manaus anytime and that they would be happy to have us stay with them and urged us to come for the world cup. Hafla began to cry which set off a chain reaction of tears from all of us. Manaus felt like a second home to me after meeting Hafla and Incaru.
We waved and walked towards the ship until I could no longer see them. While I was heading back I thought about how drastically my perception of Manus had changed literally overnight after meeting such kind and generous people.
I guess growing up in such an incredible place, I take beauty for granted. In Manaus, you do not find beauty when you step onto the street or at first glance, you have to do a little searching. I did not find beauty it in the heart of the city but in the hearts of the people who live and breath the life of it.
I did not need to need to venture out into the Amazon for a thrill and taste of what I saw in movies and postcards that would have lasted for only a day. But in Manaus I found a friendship that will last even longer with some of the most amazing people that I have ever met.
This experience really taught me to look deeper because if you do, you will find beauty in strangest ways and in most undesirable places. Globalization is in full affect I know it I have been surrounded by it, and I think that in order to come to grips with it, we must look to our foreign friends to see the world in a new light. I think that if you can do this, you will walk away with something that is unique and extremely hard to find.
I will close this entry with one of the only words I managed to learn in Portugese Obrigada, which means thank you.
Obrigada Manaus.
We ended the tour passing the market and learning about the rivers and where different roads connect. The tour was really interesting and got me more familiar with Manaus and the history behind the city.
That Night: We were fortunate to have an inter-port lecturer on board from Manaus, Professor Lima, who gave us all sorts of information about Manaus. The first night there he offered to take students out to see the school of Samba, a popular style of dance throughout Brazil. He explained that the samba performers were going to be practicing their routine for the public to prepare for the infamous Carnival* festival in Brazil. Little did he know that almost half of the shipboard community would join him!
I didn’t really know what to expect. I thought that the school of samba was going to be a low key get together with some dancing and good music. It turned out to be one of the most amazing and memorable experiences of my life!
When my friends and I got there, we were overwhelmed with everything that was going on. We caught a cab and got dropped off on the middle of the street filled with vendors selling food and drinks with live music playing on a lanai overlooking the street. The Professor arranged a huge table for the students upon our arrival. We walked around on the street as more people began to pour in. It became chaotic with locals everywhere and I began to feel lost and confused again in the sea of Portuguese and music.
More and more people started to gather in the street until it was really hard to walk. We were motioned to move back and cones were set up, at this point I was so lost. Beautifully dressed dancers began to glide their way into the street with a whole troupe of musicians with all sorts of drums! They lined up in rows and no sooner the night had begun!!
The music was not only live, but alive. It was the most vibrant and loud mix of instruments I have ever heard. The music was incredibly loud, we were in the street and could not hear a single word of anything not even our own thoughts! In that moment the only thing that I could comprehend was movement, the music was my language and I was fluent in its rhythm. It was more than just a concert it was a celebration! My friends and I were lucky enough to be standing right in front of the performers, but were the first target to be pulled on the street to dance with them. We didn’t feel one bit embarrassed, or ashamed but followed them and soon everyone followed us into the street!
It was such an incredible experience! Everyone was having a great time, locals, students, teachers, performers, everyone was dancing in the street and celebrating! The music was nonstop for hours, live! It was the happiest I think I have ever seen people collectively and it was such a great feeling!
My friends and I left at around midnight because we had a field trip at 6am that we needed to wake up for. I was bummed that the night had ended so early, but glad that I went out and was able to experience the samba.
Day 2: My roommate and I managed to wake up from a long night. We got on a bus and slept for two hours until we arrived outside of the city and in a rural region called President Figeuiredo out in the Amazonian rainforest. I was finally in the Amazon! It was beautiful, a forest extremely more dense than any I’ve ever seen. There were all types of trees and sounds echoing throughout the forest, it was lovely. We hiked to a huge cave that we learned was where native birds go for shelter and to give birth and mate. It was so interesting with lots of different passageways.
We hiked out of that area and drove to a waterfall/stream. I was shocked to see that water was a brownish red color and decided that I was definitely not going to get in. I always knew that water that color back home was never safe to swim in.
After talking with my tour guide and other people who were getting in the water, I learned that it was that color because of the high concentration of acid that was at the bottom of stream. I didn’t really know if it was true but I was so hot thought to myself “when am I ever going to be in the Amazon rainforest again?” And jumped in! It was beautiful! The water was really clear and it felt so refreshing.
Next, we ate a local Amazonian meal of fish, smoked meat, chicken, fried fish, mixed rice, tucuma smoothies (Amazonian palm fruit), and a banana desert! I was a little hesitant at first to eat anything; it was my first time being given food by people I could not ask questions to. But it turned out to be delicious and one of my favorite meals in Manaus. After lunch we rode on a short zipline across the river. It was a little bit scary; they had us climb up a really thin unstable looking ladder attached to a post where we were instructed to jump off backwards! I was really nervous because it was kids who were running the zipline and I had no idea if they knew what to do, but it turned out to be really fun!
Day 3: My third day there consisted of walking through the city and doing some shopping with my friends. It was crazy to finally go out and explore most of the city streets of Manus, if I didn’t have my friends with me I would have gotten eaten alive and lost out there in the streets. I didn’t realize how many vendors there were until I walked though almost all of the back alleys. Each street seemed to be organized by categories; toys, electronics, clothing, school supplies, candy, hammocks, and a lot more. Yet in them you would find a random combination of other items it was really bizarre.
Earlier that day, I made plans to stay overnight in a jungle lodge for the following day through one of our tour guides. I was ecstatic that I would finally be getting a chance to get out of the city and explore the rest of Amazon! He offered us a really great deal on a place to stay with all accommodations included. I got a group of ten of my friends together and was determined that we would leave the polluted city and explore the jungle and have a real Amazon experience! Yet all day I found myself worrying about if the lodge was going to be safe and reliable.
My friends and I continued to shop for the rest of the day, until we arrived back on the ship to prepare for the next day ahead of us. I went up to the bar to buy water and ran into one of the SAS alums from Brazil. The issue of safety had been on my mind all day, so I decided to ask her personally what she thought about my plans. It turned out that she was the owner of the tour company that I had met the guide through, as well as an SAS alum! At first she was really upset that her employees had solicited a student, but decided that she was not going to fire him, but move him down a position. I felt terrible, but she explained to me the risks that I was taking by going though her employee. She explained how dangerous it was that I had attempted to plan such a trip and that it was smart that I had used my intuition to talk to her about going.
I was really bummed when she cancelled the trip, but thought of it as a blessing in disguise. Who knows what could have happened to me if I would have gone out there in such a remote area? Next, I had to go back to my room to explain to all of my friends why our adventure had been cancelled. Everyone was really bummed too, but was able to understand where the alum was coming from. Because my big plans had been cancelled, that left me with the only option of wandering about the city again. I was really not looking forward to it.
Day 4: I woke up early with my roommate so that we could attempt to do something productive and get out of the city. We ended up walking again through the humid streets and later took a cab to the mall to use the internet. By this point, I thought that my day had surely been wasted. While we were there, we ran into a lot of miscommunication at different stores. But whenever this would happen, an employee would always go out of their way to get someone from a completely opposite side of the mall who spoke a little bit of English so that we could communicate with one another. I found this really helpful, something that you would never see in the US. Something that even I myself would never attempt to do, and I am a pretty nice person.
After the mall we made our way to opera house because I had not yet had a chance to go inside of it. The opera house was constructed during the time of the rubber boom in Manaus, duration of time that both built up and subsequently ran Manaus into poverty.
The opera house was one of the most beautiful structures I have even laid eyes on. It was an ironic symbol of hope and poverty that made it all the more intriguing. We got to watch a youth orchestra rehearse for an upcoming performance, they were wonderful. I felt like I was in the audience of a classical performance. After our tour I began to feel a lot more at ease in Manaus. I felt like I had gotten to know the city so much more and began to feel a stronger sense of connection to the foreign place.
That Night: I felt really exhausted from walking around town for the second day in a row. And had planned on staying in. During dinner, some of my friends invited me go out to another school of samba! At first I was really hesitant because I was tired and already set on staying in. I gave it some thought and decided that I needed to go out at least the last night before I leave!
I ended up losing the girls I was supposed to go out with and found some really cool girls to go with instead. By that time, I felt like I knew the city of Manaus like the back of my hand and we decided to walk to a local restaurant before heading to the school of samba. We met some really sweet local students walking along who spoke some English. They were really helpful and even offered to walk with us to where we needed to go. It really made me think about how I would usually respond when put in the situation to help out a tourist. I realized that I would most likely be standoffish and not as willing to help someone as closely as the people in all of the countries I have visited so far have.
We made it to our destination ate a bit, and then headed off to the school of samba. When we arrived, the atmosphere was completely different. The street was not as busy and no one was really out. I began to feel disappointment once again, like noting was working out for me in Brazil. We went inside this time to watch the samba performers prepare and it just wasn’t the same. We spotted out some SAS kids and attempted to talk with them but the music was way too loud.
There were a couple of locals with them who looked about the same age as us. They were really friendly and were showing us how we should be dancing. It was so hard to talk with them over the music so we began to write what we wanted to say to each other on their cell phones. Turned out that they knew excellent English.
We all stepped out so that we could talk more and ended up all getting along together really well. The boy that we had met was Incaru, and the girl, Hafla or Rama. They told us so much about their lives in Brazil and were so interested and eager to hear about our lives in the states and semester at sea. We all ended up talking for the rest of the night and had such a great time! Hafla introduced us to her parents who were such kind people. They insisted on giving us a ride back to the port at the end of the night because they thought that it would be too dangerous to take a cab. I didn’t feel one bit hesitant and took their offer. We arranged to meet the next day for breakfast at the same place where he and the other SAS students had met and befriended each other the first they arrived.
By the end of the night I was really glad that I had not left for the jungle lodge that day. Meeting Incaru and Hafla was something that really changed my perspective on Manaus and brought me even closer to the city that I had earlier resented.
Day 5: We didn’t have much time because we needed to be back on the ship by 3pm to set sail at 5. My newly found friends and I met Incaru and Hafla for breakfast at the crack of dawn! We had to get there early because Incaru needed to go to work that morning and knew that this may be one of the last times he’d get to see us. The juice bar was a hole in the wall that had the setting of an American diner, but their food and juice was amazing! Incaru ordered us a local favorite which was a breakfast sandwich with tucuma (Amazonian palm fruit), cheese, and egg. It was the most delicious breakfast sandwich I had ever had. I also got a refreshing smoothie with all kinds of Amazonian fruits in it! Soon Hafla arrived with her mother so that they could show us around some museums.
Time started to slip away and soon Incaru had to leave. He told us how much he was going to miss us and how happy he was to have met some very friendly American students. He told us that we would always be welcomed in Manaus and would have a place to stay whenever we wished to come back. We all exchanged contact information and promised to keep in touch. He wrote us a letter telling us how glad he was to have met such great people like us. Less than 24 hours prior to that moment he was no more than a stranger to me, yet in such a short period of time I had managed to discover such a meaningful and genuine friendship, it really touched me. We all hugged and took photographs with one another in hopes of constructing a relationship that would span past the life of a distant memory.
We said our goodbyes and continued the day with Hafla and her mother. They showed us three different museums and took us to a great place for lunch as we continued to talk and share bits and pieces of our lives. The entire day was our interpreter, guide, and friend. We encouraged her to look into semester at sea once she finished high school. She told us her dreams of one day studying in America and getting to see New York city. We explained to her that people in America would be no where near as kind and accepting toward her and to be prepared. Telling her this made me feel really ashamed at the way most people even myself treat outsiders. I hoped with all of my heart that she would one day have the chance to go to the US.
3pm drew closer and closer as we tried to squeeze all of the last minute things into hours then minutes to our departure. I wanted to give Hafla something from Hawaii, but had nothing for her I was really upset. She told me that she had never seen an ocean before and how much she would love to see one, I tried to explain to her what an ocean was like and how absolutely beautiful it is at first glance. I promised to send her pictures of my exotic and far away home and that we would someday meet again in the future.
It was really hard for all of us to say goodbye to her. We had all formed such a memorable and powerful connection to these people in such a short time. Hafla and her mother said that we were welcomed to come to Manaus anytime and that they would be happy to have us stay with them and urged us to come for the world cup. Hafla began to cry which set off a chain reaction of tears from all of us. Manaus felt like a second home to me after meeting Hafla and Incaru.
We waved and walked towards the ship until I could no longer see them. While I was heading back I thought about how drastically my perception of Manus had changed literally overnight after meeting such kind and generous people.
I guess growing up in such an incredible place, I take beauty for granted. In Manaus, you do not find beauty when you step onto the street or at first glance, you have to do a little searching. I did not find beauty it in the heart of the city but in the hearts of the people who live and breath the life of it.
I did not need to need to venture out into the Amazon for a thrill and taste of what I saw in movies and postcards that would have lasted for only a day. But in Manaus I found a friendship that will last even longer with some of the most amazing people that I have ever met.
This experience really taught me to look deeper because if you do, you will find beauty in strangest ways and in most undesirable places. Globalization is in full affect I know it I have been surrounded by it, and I think that in order to come to grips with it, we must look to our foreign friends to see the world in a new light. I think that if you can do this, you will walk away with something that is unique and extremely hard to find.
I will close this entry with one of the only words I managed to learn in Portugese Obrigada, which means thank you.
Obrigada Manaus.
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