News from the Boat_Hawaii

Aloha, everybody!

(Sorry, couldn’t resist.)

[Didn't think I'd make it, did you? Yeah. Neither did I.]

So… it seems like everybody on the ship just kind of forgot about Hawai’i. I can’t even count the times that, when we were heading for Japan, I heard the words, “This is our last port.” Like Mauritius, Hawaii was just a place where we could recoup, hang out on the beach and not worry about any of that pesky culture business.

Well screw those people. Hawai’i was one of the ports I was most excited to go to, and it was hands down the port I enjoyed the most. Not necessarily my favorite port, but definitely the one I was saddest to leave. It definitely helped that it was warm and sunny, and that the first thing I saw when we got off the ship was a rainbow, but I can barely even begin to describe how much I loved Hawaii.

I probably wrote this on several postcards, but to me, Hawaii feels like it got stuck in the 60s and never moved on. There are roadside drive-ins that sell deep-fried everything, muscle cars that howl by, convenience stores that sell literally everything, and then of course the surfing. And not snazzy short board extravaganza, although I’m sure that’s around too, but good old-fashioned ten-foot long boards that I can barely carry, let alone paddle on. There’s a sleepy who-cares vibe that just permeates everything, surrounded by absolutely gorgeous people, landscape, and wildlife. Even Pearl Harbor, which is in itself pretty gruesome, is fairly easy to take in just because there’s nothing to see. There’s a rusting chimney in the water, and a long, long list of names of people who died, and the horrifying knowledge that somewhere below you, there are bodies that have been imprisoned in a sunken battle ship for almost 70 years. The USS Arizona still leaks oil, actually, and the few veterans that are still alive consider the oil to be the tears of their comrades that are still caught below.

[On a less romantic note, that’s two quart of oil being leaked into the ocean *per day*, and while that may not sound like a whole lot, that’s many, many gallons of water that are being polluted. I’m sorry for the whole soap-box thing, but I don’t think stopping oil from leaking into the very water we depend on to survive is desecrating somebody’s tomb, it’s just plain common sense. I really don’t want to be disrespectful, but I just can’t get over the fact that this is a sunken ship leaking oil into the ocean and people don’t think it should stop.]

But overall, the parts of the memorial that I saw were very subtly done. Nobody was beating you over the head with the fact that people died here, and nobody was holding tirades against the Japanese. It was more of an overall “war is horrible” thing, and we all know how much that appeals to me. But it was still a bit rough, and I was very happy when I managed to hit the beach with a board and just relax for a little bit. Not that, you know, going surfing twice in one day is all that relaxing, but man it was fun. Mind you, the board was pretty much twice my size, and after a while my arms started hurting so badly that I wanted to cry, but there’s just something about sitting on a board in the sunshine with palm trees in the distance that makes me be okay with the world.

So that was O’ahu. A little touristy but surprisingly modern, and with lots of Japanese tourists. Unfortunately we had to miss Santa coming in on a surfboard because we were heading off to Hilo on the Big Island, Hawaii. All I saw of that was the ride to and from the airport. Instead Dan, Chelita, Utsav, Kevin and I hopped into a rental car (that we weren’t supposed to rent) and drove up to the Akaka Falls, 300 feet high, in the middle of lush, gigantic ferns and trees. It was surprising to me how an active volcano could be so *green,* but there are definitely palm trees and grassy hills and plants everywhere.

But you can only look at plants for so long, so we made our way to Kona, where people on the ship had said to go. It was pretty dead. There were a couple of stores and fast food restaurants, and then the ocean, but this was definitely not a happening place. So we asked a store clerk what there was to do, and he shrugs and says, “Jump off the end of the world.” Awkward silence as we all think to ourselves, *Can it really be THAT bad?* and then he laughs and says, “It’s a cliff. The End of the World. You can go jump off a cliff.” Well, after that, we kinda had to do it just for the bragging rights. So he gives us directions, we follow them for a while, and end up at… a turtle beach. You know those sea turtles that you get on post cards of clear blue water and tropical fish? Yeah. Those are actually there, not three feet away from you, completely unfazed by the staring tourists. So. Awesome.

Anyway. Back in the car we go and this time, we actually make it to the End of the World. The cliff is in a field of black volcanic rocks with a pretty distinct post-apocalyptic feel to it, and beyond them there is nothing but ocean. So yeah, it kinda feels like the end of the world. The cliff itself is only about 30-40 feet high, and there were another group of people that had already jumped that offered emotional support, but my friend Dan who went first was still pretty terrified. So, naturally, I jumped in before I could get any more nervous than I already was. In fact, I went so fast that our appointed video and photography people completely missed it. I sort of landed badly and bruised my thigh, and between that and the adrenaline, I was pretty much done, but Dan got very into it. He even went a third time when a group of tourists showed up on a boat and told him to jump again because they’d missed it the first two times around.

It wasn’t until afterwards that we realized that The End of the World is allegedly one of the top ten most dangerous cliffs in the world, and that all the random flower bouquets on the rocks were for people who died…

For the record: I’m fine. My leg looked pretty horrible for a couple of days, but it didn’t really hurt. And I jumped off the end of the world. Beat that.

After that much excitement, it was an early bedtime for us – all the better, because the next day turned out to be a giant rush. We had about three hours of solid driving ahead of us to get back to Hilo, we wanted to hang out at a beach, we wanted to go see the lava river, and we had to have it all done before 6 o’clock. Even earlier, in fact, because Alexa still had to write some postcards and nobody wanted to risk being late getting back to the ship at the very last port. So we booked it to a black sand beach and hung out there for a while, and then we went off to see lava. Hawaiian traffic being what it is, we ended up not making it there until 3.30 or so, so we only stayed for a couple of minutes, but it was definitely worth it. That entire stretch of land literally looks like Hell. Crusted over in black lava, with smoke rising up in the distance, and when you get too close, you can still feel the heat… We didn’t see any new lava, but we saw hardened sections that had only formed in the two weeks since Thanksgiving. And the surprisingly numerous number of houses that people still live in. You can’t ever say that human beings aren’t resourceful.

We somehow made it back to the ship on time, although I think some small part of each of us wishes we hadn’t. Hawaii was just hands-down amazing. I don’t know if I could live there permanently just because it *is* pretty dead, but man, did I love it. Nothing to really worry about, no reason to be stressed out, just cruising along the island with people that I like and the music blaring…

I had a good time.

Lots of love from 31˚ 33.9N/120˚ 30.2W
Alexa

Pictures are here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=263376&id=834707681&l=8cbcacd404

News from the Boat_Japan

The first cultural experience we had in Japan was a temperature check. Japan likes to protect itself from diseases, so every person entering the country has to get checked for a fever (by walking past something that looks like a police radar to measure your speed). If your temperature’s too high, that’s just too bad. No entry for you.

I guess that’s Japan for you. A little formal, a lot cautious, but very polite all the time, even when they’re telling you you might not be able to get off the ship.

Luckily I did not qualify as being sick, even though I was feeling pretty horrible, and so was able to go on my very expensive SAS trip to Hiroshima by bullet train. The Shinkansen itself is an experience: clean, orderly, with numbered seats, and it’s moving so fast it kinda feels like you’re not moving at all. It’s a bit like an airplane, in that sense. And it looks like a space shuttle. No joke.

Hiroshima, though, was… not what I expected. I’ve always connected it with chaos and destruction in my mind, but the atom bomb flattened the entire city, so it’s not like you see any of the remaining damage. Aside from one building, the city is brand new. You’d never be able to tell that such a tragedy occurred here if it wasn’t for the occasional statue or the museum. The museum, though, really gets you. Hiroshima calls for the end of all wars, everywhere, and the museum doesn’t pull any punches. Little children’s diary entries, lunchboxes, hair, fingernails… you name it, it’s in the exhibit, and it’s going to make you nauseous. It gives a little historical background, too. And here’s a scary thought for my German readers: The US wasn’t sure what country to bomb at first. The only reason they didn’t choose Germany was because Germany was already going down. Otherwise, ‘Hiroshima’ could have just as easily been ‘Berlin’ or ‘Dresden’ or ‘Hamburg’…

On a side note: One of my professors was on the trip, and he’d just learned that I was German pretty much the day before. So when I was talking to our guide, he came up and asked me what I thought about the museum.

Well. An American, a German, and a Japanese person all discussing World War 2. That was a little awkward.

But anyway. I didn’t really learn anything new. Except that atom bombs melt your fingernails from your hands and that war is terrible, always and under all circumstances. There is no excuse for slaughtering other people. There just isn’t.

That night, Jenn, Alex, Damien and I headed on to Kyoto where we spent the night in a capsule hotel. That’s pretty much a spaceship on the ground, with sleeping pods instead of rooms and shampoo and conditioner in single-use packets. They were originally designed for business men who worked late and had to go back to work early, so going home didn’t make any sense. It was very snazzy, though. They give you everything, even pajamas, and the women have a separate floor, bathroom, lounge and elevator all to themselves. Oh, and lights that turn off and on slowly so waking up isn’t so bad for the system. The only downside was that none of us could figure out the alarm, so we all overslept.

In the morning, we realized that we were only about a thirty-minute walk from the Imperial Palace, so we went and checked that out. It was pretty cool, definitely nice architecture and design, and there was a traditional dance thing going on in the courtyard. Plus, the leaves were all crazy vibrant colors and the air was just that right sort of crisp, cold without being painful. My first real autumn in over three years… I felt right at home. But then the whole of Japan reminded me of Germany, in a way. Maybe it was because Japanese people are fairly introverted and quiet, and aren’t falling all over themselves to interact with strangers like the rest of the world. I don’t know. It just all felt a little familiar.

We checked out the castle before we took off for Tokyo. Between the castle and the palace, the castle definitely wins. It has floors that creak so you can tell when intruders are trying to sneak in. How badass is that? But then we had to take off to catch the Shinkansen and somehow made it, after several hours of trying to decipher symbols and cryptic directions, to our traditional Japanese bed&breakfast. It didn’t have rice paper walls, but beds and a small sitting area all on the floor and a tea set just waiting for us. It was like a Japanese apartment, basically. I would have totally moved in.

So far, so good, right? And that’s when it started to get strange. Jenn wanted to see a Maid Café, a café where the waitresses are all dolled up in French Maid outfits. I figured there’d be one or two, but no, there were dozens. (Cafes, not waitresses.) Granted, most of them were closed because it was ten in the morning on a Sunday, but we did find one. First of all, Jenn and I were the only girls in there for a solid hour. (Then, one other girl showed up with her boyfriend. Hell of a date.) We got charged just for sitting down, and the prices were ridiculous. Alex ordered a special where you got a pancake, a waffle, a drink and a picture with one of the waitresses (taking pictures independently was a huge no-go) for $25. Well, as it turns out, there was some miscommunication there. The special was a pancake OR a waffle and a picture with one of the waitresses for $25. Poor guy still hasn’t lived down the fact that he bought a $25 piece of cake. So, a little overpriced, but okay, ladies in short outfits, I can understand why people would go. Except that the entire room is made up to look like a little girl’s room, with stuffed animals and magic spells that you cast over your food. And then a very random, sort of bad song-and-dance that everybody else found absolutely hilarious. I’m all for being culturally open, but I still have no idea what to think about that, and I spent a solid hour and a half alternately feeling like I should be in a French Maid outfit or feeling like I shouldn’t be there at all.

After that, most of us were ready for some average mediocrity, but Jenn wanted to see more strange things, so we went out to Harajuku station to see girls and guys in crazy outfits. Not that we really found any. Instead we went to a Shinto shrine where we read some pretty great things on the wooden plaques that people write their wishes on. “Good health,” I can get behind, same for “A loving relationship,” but “a good correlation between October sky and my software firm”? At least it’s honest, I guess.
We walked around the shopping mall for a while but didn’t actually buy anything because it was all insanely expensive. But it was nice to know that everything is fashionable *somewhere.*

Of course, that still wasn’t enough insanity for us, so as a belated birthday extravaganza, Jenn and I went to DisneySea. That’s like Disneyland, only in weird. The rides are a bit faster and a bit scarier, like the storm flight simulator where you die at the end. I probably spent way too much money and walked until my legs started cramping, but don’t anybody dare tell me that wasn’t Japanese culture – we were the only white people in the park.

After we didn’t make it back to Yokohama until almost midnight, I sort of slept in the last day. I was still pretty miserable from all the walking the day before because every time I stopped walking my legs would cramp up, so I walked. Walked down the waterfront, through the Yokohama doll museum with a special exhibit about dolls that were sent from the US to Japan as gifts at the beginning of the 20th century, back up the waterfront, through one giant very expensive sort-of shopping mall, through another giant very expensive sort-of shopping mall, back down the waterfront, and then in the remaining two hours before on-ship time I sprinted to an internet café and back. Fun times.

But anyway. I enjoyed Japan, even though it was extremely exhausting. I’d definitely like to visit again when I have a bit more time.

Lots of love from 31˚ 33.2N/120˚ 32.6W.
Alexa

Pics are here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=258874&id=834707681&l=d9e2b23a0d

News from the Boat_China

I can totally pull of another two blog posts in the next 48 hours…

*

So. I’ve heard a lot of things about Hong Kong, but not necessarily a lot of good things. Honestly, I can’t say I hate it. It wasn’t thrilling, but I definitely don’t hate it. It’s like any big city. Kind of hurried, kind of bland, a lot of pretty buildings but not a whole lot else. Imagine downtown LA or downtown Frankfurt. It’s kinda cool, yeah, but when you really want to enjoy yourself, you go somewhere else.

We took an early morning tram up to Victoria Peak, where we had a very nice 360 view of… office buildings. There’s a Bank of America building, that was a little strange, but the coolest thing about the peak was definitely the fact that when you leaned over the railing, the draft sent your hair straight up. After some aimless meandering and a horribly failed attempt to find a restaurant that serves Chinese food, we ended up walking down Hollywood Road, looking at temples and through big piles of junk that street vendors will sell for a couple of dollars. The conversion rate did cause a bit of confusion, because after having $1 be around 20,000 Vietnamese Dong, going back to 1 to 8 was certainly hard to get used to. I definitely spent a lot more money than I thought I would just because I was thinking, “Oh, that’s only 140, that’s *nothing*. Heh. WRONG.

The nicest part about my one-day Hong Kong excursion was the Symphony of Lights. Imagine a city-wide laser show, complete with music and flashing skyscrapers. Strangely surreal, and definitely not something you’d expect from a city that’s all busy-business like Hong Kong. But honestly, the only thing I got out of my stay in Hong Kong was that China could not be as cold as everyone was prophesying.  At the end of the day, I was still walking around in shorts and a t-shirt, so Beijing couldn’t possibly be that bad. Right?

Right.

*

Imagine my shock when we landed in Beijing and the airport workers were wrapped up in thick winter coats, scarves and gloves. At first it didn’t seem all that bad, but by the time we had all climbed into our bicycle rickshaws on the way to our traditional Chinese dinner, we were really feeling it. But the dinner was delicious. It was in a one-room family home, with the grimiest kitchen you could possibly imagine, but the food was good. And without wanting to sound arrogant, watching everybody struggle to use chopsticks in an at least semi-dignified matter was absolutely hilarious. Still, it was cold enough that I was very happy to finally make it to our cozy hotel and only braved the weather long enough that night to buy several sets of gloves at the closest minimart.

I wish I could say the misery ended there, but no such luck. The Forbidden City the next morning was impressive, but hard to believe considering that people lived there WITHOUT HEATING. The whole experience was dampened a little by the fact that my camera decided to give out before 9 AM, but still very impressive. The buildings are all very similar looking, but the architecture is very colorful and I’m not gonna lie – if that was my emperor’s residence, I would have been seriously awed. From the Forbidden City we went straight on to Tiananmen Square. Aside from the enormous Mao picture and the propaganda video showing on gigantic screens, it looks just like any square anywhere – only in HUGE. Not much to see there, and considering that particular piece of history happened before I can remember, I probably wasn’t impressed as I should have been.

We spent the afternoon at a school/orphanage for street children where we played (that is, they kicked our asses at it) tug-of-war, badminton (apparently that’s big in China), basketball and painted a wall with them. The communication wasn’t always the easiest, but pointing at colors and then pieces of the wall works surprisingly well with kids. It was even awesome enough to make us forget how miserably cold it still was. The not-so-nice part was that this school was *poor*. Their school uniforms were donated army fatigues. Their bathrooms were five squat-toilets side by side, with no division in between. I asked our guide if there was anywhere to wash my hands so I could put my gloves back on, and she said, “They don’t have water today.” …oh, okay. Those are the kinds of places I wish I could just magically fix. Just point my fingers, whisper my magic spell, and *bazui* - clean water, new clothes, and heating for everyone.

After all that misery, I felt really kind of guilty when we arrived at our restaurant and I saw an electronics store next door and immediately thought, “Oh wow, I can get a new camera.” But then again, I really didn’t want to be on the Great Wall without a camera, so I sucked up the bad aftertaste and set out on the most uncoordinated adventure of my trip so far. I grabbed a friend and we headed in, figuring that in an electronics store, somebody would speak English. Right? Well, the woman we asked did not. Did anybody else in the store? Not according to her, no. So we pointed at some cameras, got to look at a few, and then everything went horribly, horribly awry. She asked me a question that I assume meant which color I wanted. I pointed to silver. She shook her head. I pointed to blue. She shook her head. I pointed to green. She nodded, went over to a computer, started typing up the price, and then all of a sudden she asked for my name. This is when my phishing-paranoid brain ground to a halt, and I asked her why. She looked at me blankly, then gave me a piece of paper. I wrote down, “Why do you need my name?” She started to copy down “Why do you need my name?” *as* my name. I shook my head. She asked me something. I shook my head. She wrote it down for me – in Chinese characters. I shook my head. She wrote down something else for me – in Chinese characters.

So. Defeated by the language barrier, we decided to go ask out guide if she would be willing to come back with us and translate. But, as it turns out, by the time I’d scarfed down enough dinner to feel brave enough to go back, our guide had disappeared. So I thought to myself, whatever, I can do this. I’ve done worse. (That’s a lie, by the way.) So I asked our trip leader if I could go buy a camera next door, and he looks at me and says, “Can you do it in 15 minutes?” Eh… yes? “Good, because that’s when we’re leaving.”

Hookay. Buying a camera in 15 minutes is totally doable. Right?

So. I sprint back next door, ask the first guy I find if he speaks English, and, miracle upon miracles, he says yes! He takes me over to the cameras, my first lady appears, he asks me which one I want, I tell him, he asks me which color I want, I say blue. He says something to the lady. She shakes her head. Frustrated, I ask, “Well, what colors do you have?” He asks the lady. She says something. He tells me they have green. …I guess I’ll be having the green one, then. Back to the computer, back to that whole name game. At this point, I was rushed enough to say to hell with it, if they’re gonna stalk me with the information I’m giving out, they’re welcome to, I’m only going to be in China for another three days. So I give her my name, she prints out a slip of paper and leads me over to the cashier, I hand over my debit card and get told, “no.” Okay, why? The attendant lady writes down for me “no.” I frown. The cashier says, “China.” I frown even more. The attendant writes down for me, “China.” Okay. So how about an ATM. There is one downstairs, what wonder, so I run down, take out money, run back upstairs – and there’s a lady in front of me. A lady who’s taking her sweet time digging out her ID, signing papers, chatting with the cashier. At this point, I had about another two minutes before I was supposed to be back at the restaurant, so I was starting to get really, really antsy. But it’s all good, here comes another cashier. Who goes to help the other one with the lady in front of me. At this point, my attendant lady is trying her hardest to move me to the front of the line, but I’m still checking my watch every thirty seconds, thinking about the millions of hours of docktime I’m going to get if this doesn’t happen *right now*. But there’s a third cashier. She also takes her sweet time getting my receipt ready, but at least she’s getting it ready. I’m already two minutes late, but at this point, my money’s gone, and I’m really not willing to walk away without cash OR camera, so I turn to my attendant who points into the store and WALKS AWAY. Panic. Total and utter panic. I head off into the general direction she indicated, back to the camera section, and show my receipt to a couple of people standing around a computer. They don’t know what I want. So I pace up and down until my attendant comes running up with a box. My camera. I could have kissed her. And then strangled her, because she started to unpack and put the damn thing together. I shake my head. She nods, starting to get a little frazzled too, and then tells me to wait. And runs off to get me A BAG. (And a free camera cover. That was kinda cool.) Anyway. I shake my head, grab the stuff, and sprint into the next building, up five flights of (long) stairs, tell Ozzie I’m back, and get told, “That’s good – because we’re leaving *right now.*” In retrospect, I feel really bad for rushing my lady so much because she did try her damndest, and I think she felt bad, but oh my God, I never want to have to do that again.

Well, what better place to regain my Zen than at a Kung Fu school? It’s the school where they shot the new Karate Kid movie, apparently. Miserably cold, but we’ve established that. They put on a show, including breaking bamboo rods over their back and standing on top of boards with nails on top of a person on top of a board with nails on top of a person on top of a board with nails. We learned a couple of moves from the students and then just hung out and watched the school’s youngest doing their own lessons outside. Three and four-year-olds practicing high-kicks and stances – it’s pretty much the most adorable thing to ever walk the planet.

And then we got to the main part of the attraction: The Great Wall. Two hours drive out of Beijing, then a ten-minute walk and a ten minute gondola ride away, and… there it is. It stretched for miles in either direction. Sadly it doesn’t divide China from Mongolia anymore, but it was a clear enough day that we were hoping we saw it. It’s just mindblowing how long it is. You kinda see it disappear over a hillrise and think, “That’s a long wall…” and then you see it rise up again on the next hill, and the next, and the next. We were lucky enough to be pretty much the only people on the wall. Very lucky, actually. We ended up hearing several stories about how other sections of the wall were packed wall to wall with people. So it was great that we got the time to just hang out, goof off, take fake Kung Fu pictures and some with our touristy panda hats. And in the end, we got to toboggan down. It was terrifying, but so much fun. And while I was zipping down the hillside, all I could think was, “How am I getting academic credit for this?”

I was a little sad that we only ended up staying an hour and a half or so, but we had to start heading back. One more stop the next morning at the Temple of Heaven, and then we made our way to Shanghai. We only had one day there, which was a little sad, but we did see some interesting stuff. Despite getting a little screwed over (shanghaied… heh) by a taxi driver with a fast-running meter on the way, we were in fairly high spirits when we made it to Shanghai Barbie, the six-storey, bright pink Barbie store. Welcome to everything Barbie: Barbie clothes, Barbie café, Barbie bubble tea (it’s pretty gross), Design Your Own Barbie, and, of course, the three storey high exhibition of blonde Barbies wearing pink dresses – each one with a unique dress style and hairdo.

It was a little scary, come to think of it.

We shopped around for the rest of the afternoon, and made it back to the ship just in time to get to the very end of a humongous line while the new head of security unpacked every single bag coming onto the ship. I think we spent a good forty minutes just standing around in the cold. So that was a fun way to end it. But overall, I enjoyed it. The lack of English made life a little difficult, but then again, there’s no reason for them to speak English other than that it’s a convenience for us.

But overall, I enjoyed it. I didn’t even feel too queasy at the billions of flags and the whole communist propaganda thing. I will say that what ended up getting me was the internet. I didn’t have anybody following me around like some people did, but I’d forgotten about Facebook being blocked, and realizing that the one time I would consistently have internet access on this entire trip I wouldn’t be able to upload any pictures was a bit of a shock. And kind of annoying, to be honest. Then it started to get funny. We tried various tricks to make it on Facebook anyway, but only managed for a good fifteen minutes or so. Then I tried to look up Tiananmen Square on Wikipedia, and whatdayaknow? The page mysteriously won’t load. Oh Gee. I wonder why.

But I enjoyed China. It was great, it was ridiculous, it was insane. It was cold. But the people were friendly and helpful, the things I saw and did were amazing, and if nothing else, I got some interesting stories out of it.

Lots of love from 29˚ 26.8N/127˚ 0.2W.
Alexa

Pics are here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=257321&id=834707681&l=e998dfb538

News from the Boat_India

Well, this took a really long time… I think I just needed to come to terms with the fact that India simply didn’t live up to my expectations. The reason for that is probably a combination of high expectations, bad planning, and bad luck. I still had a good time, but India just didn’t “rock my world.” That’s okay. Not every country can be my favorite country in the whole world.

That said, I went into India with zero planning. My first day was taken up by a field trip for one of my classes where we visited a street theatre performance and a village of traditional artists. Sounds cool, right? The only problem was that the theatre show was condensed from 7 hours into 20 minutes, for our convenience, and then we sat there for four hours with nothing to do. It was still cool to see the traditional art and the costumes, but still… I probably could have thought of a better use for my time. Like a Bollywood movie! A friend and I went to see “Robot” that night. “Robot” is the newest blockbuster. It’s about a scientist who develops a robot that develops feelings for the scientist’s girlfriend. And then there are random dance numbers in the desert (by a lagoon), bad CGI, evil Germans, and – most memorably – talking mosquitoes. It probably didn’t help that it was in Tamil with the occasional “That’s so cool” thrown in in English, but still. It definitely puts the more outrageous Hollywood action flicks in perspective.

The next day, we took a two-hour rickshaw ride to Mamallapurum, a city that houses 22 temples, including two out in the ocean that were discovered in 2006 when the tsunami sucked all the water away from the shore. I saw a few old temples and carvings (“old” as in 1400 years old, which sort of puts our version of old to shame) and Krishna’s Butter Ball, a sort of circular rock that sits on a slope. No one can explain why. Apparently the British brought in seven elephants to pull it down because they deemed it dangerous to the public, but no luck – it just stayed right where it was. I couldn’t resist giving it an experimental push myself, but when we left, it was still where it was supposed to be.

More temples the next day when we took the bus out to Kamcheepurum. As we were informed, it was a really nice bus – it didn’t have windows, so we got free air conditioning. But it was cheap, a grand total of 50 cents for a two hour ride, and being the only white people on a bus full of Indians was certainly cool to see. Hindu temples, on the other hand, are bizarre. If I had to come up with a word to describe them, it would have to be *kitsch*. Not necessarily in a bad way, but really, Hindu temples look like someone covered them in superglue, took the toy chest I had as a kid and upended it over the building. Pastel-colored figurines of hundreds or even thousands of Hindu gods cover every tier. The inside is not much better – here, the statues are bigger, but to the Western eye, they’re still pretty unbelievable. Of course non-Hindus are not allowed to enter the inner sanctum, but the outside of the temple is enough to give a taste of just how different this culture is to anything we’re used to.

Sadly, I wasn’t very lucky with the food. Even the traditional meal I had in Kamcheepurum (meaning you eat it all with your hands) wasn’t particularly tasty. But very environmentally friendly – your ‘plate’ is a palm-tree leaf that you roll up and throw away when you’re done, and instead of bringing you individual dishes, everybody just digs in from a shared platter. It made me sad though. I spent so much time hoping for really spicy Indian food, and all the restaurants we ended up at had strangely bland dishes.

*
Bear with me, people, we’re already halfway through my tale of dissatisfaction. Now comes the crazy part: How to see the Taj Mahal in forty hours.

1) Get on an early plane. As in, seven o’clock in the morning early. But be alert. Indians show no mercy to the sleepy-eyed traveler, and if you keep a respectful two feet distance from the counter, they will cut in front of you.

2) Get to New Delhi, 200 km away from Agra and the Taj, at 10 am only to learn that all the trains to Agra that run that day have already left. Luckily, your hotel (that you booked at the New Delhi airport twenty minutes ago) has a cab service that will get you there before it closes at 5:30. And it only costs about $120 round trip. So you can pay for it even when your fellow traveler’s ATM card doesn’t work. So far, you’re still on track.

3) Fight with the hotel manager over the phone because he wants you to pay the 5000 rupees for the cab in advance. Give in when he threatens to have the cab driver turn around and drive back to the hotel. You’re still good, though. If you leave right away, you’ll still have an hour at the Taj.

4) Take a break-neck cab ride to Agra. It’s too terrifying to sleep, so you watch the minutes tick by with growing dread. But you’re *still* good. The cabbie is trying his damndest to get you there in time (although you’re kinda starting to wish he wasn’t).

5) You make it. It’s 4:45, you’re two kilometers away from the East Gate. Your cabbie stops at a money-exchange. Then he stops to pick up a guide that you somehow manage to get rid of, because at this rate your money is barely even enough to pay for a ticket to the Taj, let alone dinner or a guide.

6) Get through security when the sky is already turning orange. There are tourists everywhere. But that’s okay – it’s beautiful enough to make up for it.
Breathe in, breathe out – this is worth it.

7) Fight to get back to the cab through a slew of postcard and magnet sellers, all fifteen year old boys who tell you how sexy you are and ask if you like the Kama Sutra. Stop at another ATM, where your fellow traveler’s card still doesn’t work, fight with the cabbie until he takes you to a restaurant that isn’t ridiculously overpriced. Take a 4.5 hour ride back to the hotel. You’re about ready to crash, but the AC is so cold that once you do happen to fall asleep, you wake up sore and cramped up.

8) Fall into bed at the hotel and sleep for eight hours.

9) Try to check out and realize that you, again, don’t have enough money. Have a clerk walk you to several ATMs that don’t work before you can finally pay the hotel fee.

10) Take a rickshaw to the Lotus Tempel, an absolutely gorgeous building, stark white under a clear blue sky. Aside from the one guy who tries to touch your face with his wet hands, people are really nice here. When you enter, a man sings a psalm that echoes through the entire chamber.
This was a good decision. This is worth it.

11) Take a rickshaw back to the airport. Find out that your flight is delayed for an hour and a half. Fly for two hours. Spent another hour and a half fighting your way through Chennai traffic before you finally, finally make it back to that familiar string of lights in the darkness. You’ve been gone for 40 hours. 28 of those you traveled. 8 of those you were asleep.
The other 4? So worth it.

*
So that was that. In retrospect, I feel like I should have spent less time looking at old buildings and more time trying to experience the culture, as I had originally planned. I heard so many wonderful stories about Indian hospitality, about people who randomly got invited to Indian homes, that I feel like I missed something fundamental. In my experience, India is loud and dirty and everyone wants your money. Even the Taj and the Lotus Tempel weren’t totally satisfying because as awesome as they are, they’re just buildings. They’re beautiful buildings, yes, but when it comes down to it, I would rather have had that connection with another human being than taken a picture and crossed something off my bucket list.

Not that I want to ruin anyone’s day, or convince anyone not to go. India was strange and wonderful and yes, mystifying. If anything, that gnawing feeling that I have in my gut whenever I think about this country makes me want to go back even more – because I can’t help feeling that there has to be more to India than what I experienced.

Lots of love from 27˚ 3.7N/166˚ 35.9E.
Alexa

India pictures are here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=252395&id=834707681&l=3129f5fdd1

News from the Boat_Vietnam

Okay, everybody: Hell Week is coming up fast and I’m rather fond of my sanity, so I’ve given up on translating anything for now. Sorry. Just trying to survive.

And as a quick side note to all you smartasses that feel the need to point out how bad my German has gotten: I’ve been in the States for three years now. The average German I speak there is an hour a week on the phone with Helga (it averages out to just under 9 minutes a day, in case you were wondering). Since I’ve been on this trip, the amount of time I’ve spent on the phone speaking German has gone down to an hour and a half *total*. (That would be around 1.258 minutes a day, FYI.) And the amount of German emails I get during a semester, not counting Helga and Volkmar, averages out to about, say… five? So yeah, my German has gotten pretty bad. Believe me, I know. But it’s not going to start improving any time soon, so for the love of God, stop telling me about it.

***

71 days into our voyage, the good weather finally abandoned us. Turns out, that whole “rainy season” business? It’s not rain like we know it. It is literally water pouring from the sky for hours. It’s “I can’t take pictures because I get water on my lens every time I try,” it’s “I’ll buy this crappy poncho that I know won’t last a day because otherwise I don’t see how I’m getting home,” it’s “I don’t think I’m going out tonight because I’ll be soaked to the bone before I get to the shuttle bus.”

It’s *wet.*

But anyway. Have I mentioned how much I loved Vietnam? The people are incredibly friendly, even when they’re trying to rip you off. It seems like to them, tourism is a giant game. They’ll start giggling when they bargain and laugh at you when you scuttle through traffic with terror in your eyes. They even immortalize their spaghetti-like telephone lines and the infamous phrase, “Same same – but different” (the bane of every amateur barterer) on their cheap and cheaply made t-shirts.

[If you have no idea what that particular sentence is supposed to mean, don’t worry – neither do we.]

But they’re smart, too. The maze-like markets have an elaborate system of color-coded plastic bags in which sellers wrap your purchases to signal to the other shop owners how well you bartered. They’re experienced players in a game that foreigners struggle to understand – but a game is all it is. In India, shopkeepers get angry when you won’t budge on your price. In Vietnam, they roll their eyes, take your money, and gleefully calculate how badly you’re still overpaying.

Of course that’s city life. Outside Ho Chi Minh City, previously Saigon, the pace is slower. There are no scooter stampedes just lurking around the corner, waiting for you to set one foot on the road so they can rush out at you. Instead, boats of all shapes and sizes meander along the Mekong Delta. The floating markets sell fresh fruit and vegetables, people make rice paper and coconut candy (and rice wine, which is a little like vodka, only more intense), and people dig up mud from the bottom of the river to fertilize their gardens. I’d call it sleepy, but the obnoxiously loud motors make sleep pretty much impossible.

If it hasn’t hit you yet that you are actually a foreigner here, it definitely will out in the country. Forget English. You might as well be speaking Klingon for all the good it does you. Little kids in supermarkets start giggling when they see you. But no worries. Pointing and smiling will usually get you where you want to go.

Aside from the Delta, where I spent two of our five days in Vietnam, the major theme for my stay was the war. We call it the Vietnam war, they call it the American war, and the perceptions that the two countries have of it are as different as the names they give it. Mention the war to an American, and he or she immediately scowls. The reasons for that are usually fairly diverse – from “Communism sucks” to “Capitalism sucks,” and anything in between – but the reaction is generally the same.

Now, I never actually walked up to a Vietnamese person and said, “So, about that war…,” but I did see a lot of things relating to it. I visited the War Remembrance Museum, the Reunification Palace, and the Cu Chi Tunnels. Hell, I even fired an AK-47. Yes, they let tourists fire machine guns at the tunnels. There’s no pussyfooting around the issue. Yes, the war happened, and yes, they won. They don’t feel the need to apologize. From a German perspective, the Museum in particular was a hard. I’m not used to people saying, “There was a war, and *we* were the victims, and we’ll throw every shred of evidence we have of that in your face.” Three stories worth of photographs of an American G.I. holding part of a Viet Cong or plaques reading “This is where American soldiers killed two twelve-year-olds and disemboweled a ten-year-old boy” are not easy to take. Plus, they have a tank with Agent Orange – disfigured fetuses inside. I’m not saying it was bad, but it was definitely an experience seeing the other side.

The same goes for the tunnels, I guess. We were shown into a bunker where our guide held a brief speech about the set-up of the tunnels, and then said, “Now, we’ll see a video.” He neglected to point out that it was a propaganda video from the war, with black-and-white footage of cyclists, and a narrator detailing how the locals used to enjoy picnics in the scenic Cu Chi area before the evil Americans came in and dropped bombs on their unsuspecting heads. And while the rest of the visit was more about the Viet Cong side, about the conditions they lived under, the overall mood still seemed to be the same.
Not that you can blame them. I crawled the 100 meters through the tunnels, in the dark, with a gaggle of terrified girls behind me and only occasional glimpses of the guy in front of me. I hit my head and scraped my knees and tried to ignore how badly my legs were aching from the half-crouching position I was in. And this was an enlarged tunnel. Imagining actually having this be your life, with bombs and tanks waiting at the surface, was absolutely terrifying. I was sweating and exhausted by the time I crawled back out, and I don’t even mind enclosed spaces.

Almost equally memorable was that I got to shoot a gun. I’ve wanted to for ages, and there they were, with every machine gun imaginable. The whole thing was probably fairly sketchy, but they had ear muffs at least. And they were definitely needed. Aside from being really, really loud, shooting an AK-47 was also easy. Frighteningly easy. If I, a 5’8’’ hundred-twenty pounder, can fire a gun that dangerous that easily, I don’t even want to imagine the damage an experienced fighter could do.

The whole experience wasn’t necessarily bad, but it was certainly different. Like I said, I’m not used to looking back on a war with pride. I guess they’re entitled. Everybody likes to be proven right (whether or not they actually are, is not for me to decide). And I certainly found it valuable to see the war from their perspective. I just don’t think people should gloat about successfully killing other people.

Lots of love from 35˚ 4.2N/139˚ 41.9E
Alexa

[It was totally awesome though. :)]

Andre Ramadan (English)

Some of you may have already heard, but for those of you who haven’t: On November 6th, my fellow Semester at Sea student Andre Ramadan died of “unknown medical causes.” I’d only met him briefly and didn’t know him very well, but I’ve spoken to people who did, and, well. It’s like a storm cloud is hanging over the ship. People are only just starting to believe that he won’t be coming back.

We held an interfaith memorial service today, followed by a ‘sea burial’ in which every member of the community throws a flower overboard. My thoughts go out to Andre’s family and friends who were expecting to see him get off the ship in San Diego, whole and happy and full of amazing stories. How do you deal with that?

Andre Ramadan (Deutsch)

Manche von euch haben es vielleicht schon gehoert, aber falls nicht: Am sechsten November ist mein Semester at Sea Mitreisender Andre Ramadan wegen „unknown medical causes“ verstorben. Ich hatte ihn nur fluechtig kennengelernt und kannte ihn nicht gut, aber ich habe mit Leuten gesprochen, die gut mit ihm befreundet waren, und, naja. Es ist, als wuerde eine Gewitterwolke ueber dem Schiff haengen. Es wird uns nur langsam klar, dass er nicht wiederkommen wird.

Heute hatten wir einen ‚interfaith memorial service‘ gefolgt von einem Seebegraebnis, in dem jedes Mitglied der Schiffscommunity eine Blume ueber Bord warf. Mein Beileid an Andres Familie und Freunde, die erwarteten, ihn heile und lebendig und voller unglaublicher Geschichten in San Diego wiederzusehen. Wie geht man mit so etwas um?

News from the Boat: Singapore

Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Coruscant. Or, at the very least, something that looks just like it. From my window, I can see several of the blue and white skyscrapers that mark the cruise terminal, as well as an overhead cable car that connects mainland Singapore with the island Sentosa – the Disneyland for adults. TV screens all over the city not only play trailers to upcoming movies and ads for attractions around the city, but also the accompanying soundtrack. The malls (and there are a lot of them) have not only everything the Western shopper could desire, but also everything the Asian population enjoys. Pedestrians don’t cross the street, they use underpasses – underpasses that are three stories deep, house everything from Starbucks to Apple Stores, and are big enough to get lost in (which we did, repeatedly). Asking white people for help doesn’t do much good: They’re usually tourists themselves. But the locals are all fluent and gracious enough to help you out, or at least mutely point you in the right direction.

For my American friends who rave about the public transportation in the Bay Area, the Bus and MRT (Metro) system were the cause for boundless wonder. Buses that run on an actual schedule? Clean trains? Or, even more amazing for the SAS-hardened traveler, fixed prices for taxis? While I wasn’t raving at every turn, I have to admit that I was impressed as well: While fairly similar to the BART system, meaning scanners at the entries and exits, the Metro is designed to be a lot more user- and eco-friendly. The ticket machines have a touchpad where you select your destination on a map of the entire transit system (--> no double and triple checking that you have the right number or dollar amount to take you where you want to go), and after you pay, it spits out a small plastic card that you return at your destination at the same machines in exchange for 1 Sing Dollar – no tree-killing here, no sir.

Considering the size of the city, the amount of cool things to do is also astounding. Despite it being a Sunday night, Halloween was everywhere. I went on a Halloween-themed Night Safari at the zoo (supposedly one of the best in the world). We ate food from pretty much every continent, because that’s what Singaporean cuisine is, and crazy, crazy deserts like Dragon fruit and Chinese layer cake, which is basically just rainbow-colored strips of Tapioca stuck together. The night safari itself was crazy fun. The zoo doesn’t have cages, so all that divides you from spotted hyenas, elephants, lions, tigers, water buffalo, hippos, and a bunch of mind-bogglingly exotic animals that I’d never heard of in my life, much less actually seen up close, is a ditch. The ditch is deep enough to keep animals and humans on their respective sides, apparently, but it was still humbling to realize that all of those animals are HUGE. You can’t really get a feeling for it in a regular zoo or on a game safari, but seeing them laying just a few feet away really makes you realize that if we lived in the wild, we would *not* be the top of the food chain.

The Halloween decorations just made it all the more awesome. They were fairly tame, considering that there were a lot of kids around, but it was still creepy to see zombies and ghouls (or zoo workers dressed up as zombies and ghouls, anyway) emerge from the trees or appear out of nowhere to jump on our tram, and our guide had the creepiest laugh I’ve ever heard on a human being. Needless to say I had a great time even though I didn’t get to see the elusive Pontianak that our guide kept referring to, which I’m assuming is the Asian version of a White Woman – the lack of internet makes it hard to look these things up. :(

After the zoo, we decided to hit Clarke Quay, the party zone. It was obviously a Sunday night, but there were still a few people around. It was fun, but I wouldn’t really make a note of it except to say that I have never seen a party district like that: There is a roof spanning the entire area to make sure all the dressed up guys and gals don’t get rained on, an elaborate water fountain, crazy places like something called The Clinic where you sit in wheelchairs and drink your drinks out of IVs. There’s even a sign directing you where to “Q” up for taxis home. And, of course, it’s all ridiculously clean, considering that this is where the drunk people go.

Bright and early (a little too early for my taste >.>) the next morning we hit up Sentosa Island, the playground for adults. There are casinos, beaches and beach bars, shopping malls, resorts, giant candy stores, and, ah yes, Universal Studios. We didn’t go. Instead we ate at one of the top ten restaurants in the worlds, the name of which I’ve forgotten, and spent a good half an hour in a gigantic candy store. Did you know that there are pillows that look like bags of M&M’s or Hershey’s bars? I was sincerely tempted to get one, because those are adorable.

Our group split up after lunch and Amanda, Kelly and I went to ride on the Singapore Flyer, the biggest Ferris wheel in the world. It’s around 40 minutes ride in air conditioned capsules that fit 28 people. There are 28 of them. You do the math. But it was a Monday afternoon, so we got a capsule to ourselves. The Flyer is designed to follow Feng Shui guidelines, which is among the reasons why it rotates in a clockwise direction, and why everything revolves around the number 28. But you tend to forget about that once you look down and you realize that yes, you are actually pretty darn far up. Sadly not quite high enough to see the top of the three-building hotel with the infinity pool on the roof that some SASers were staying at. And we also didn’t get to go see the pool, even though I would have totally paid the 20 bucks, because we had to start heading back. The Flyer was worth it, though, if only to see the thousands of ships heading away from and towards the harbor. It’s one thing to hear that Singapore is an important trading port and another to see cargo ships covering the ocean all the way to the horizon.

Our last stop in Singapore was Max Brenner’s, a store that sells chocolate everything: Hot chocolate drinks, cold chocolate drinks, chocolate pancakes, chocolate soup, and then just plain old chocolate. There’s one in New York City, so for you East Coast chocolate fiends, it’s totally worth checking out.

So, we’ve got a city that’s pretty, friendly, and green. After a tree-planting campaign in the sixties, there is as much greenery as there are skyscrapers. Everybody has a mandatory savings account that holds 20% of their paycheck, and 80% of the population lives in government housing. Let me tell you – those apartments are nothing to scoff at. The public transport is extremely effective, and immigration was the most streamlined process I’ve ever seen.

It sounds pretty heavenly, right? Well, it is, until you consider that the only reason everything is so clean and nice and safe is because state control is ridiculously high. Female non-residents are tested for pregnancy every three months, and if they are, they are either forced to have an abortion of forced to leave – all in the name of limiting the number of foreign babies who can claim citizenship. There is a $5000 (yes, three zeros) fine for carrying flammable liquids on the subway, and let’s not even talk about the mandatory death sentence for everyone who gets caught with more than 2 grams of heroin or 15 grams of weed. There was a member of a royal family (people were strangely reluctant to tell me which one) executed for possessing marijuana a couple of years back. So yeah, not my dream city. But if it eased up on the imprisonments and ditched the hangings, it could be.

Lots of love from 07˚ 7.6N/107˚ 9.7E
Alexa

[My apologies for posting this blog before the one about India. India was hard for me in the way that the other countries weren’t, and I’m still figuring out how to put my experience there in words. But I also didn’t want to leave everybody hanging until after Vietnam, so I’ve moved Singapore to the front of the line. Sorry! I’ll try to update on India as soon as I can.]

Neues vom Boot: Singapur

Meine Damen und Herren, willkommen in Coruscant. Oder zumindest etwas, das genauso aussieht. Von meinem Bullauge aus kann ich mehrere blaue und weisse Hochhaeuser, die einen Teil des Cruise Terminals ausmachen, und die Seilbahn die das Festland mit der Insel Sentosa – dem Disneyland fuer Erwachsene – verbindet, sehen. Ueberall in der Stadt gibt es Bildschirme, die die Fussgaenger nicht nur mit Vorfilmen und Werbespots fuer die Sehenswuerdigkeiten der Stadt beschallen, sondern auch mit den dazugehoerigen Soundtracks. Die Malls (und es gibt jede Menge davon) haben nicht nur alles, was ein westlicher Shopper begehren koennte, sondern auch alles, was die asiatische Bevoelkerung gerne hat. Fussgaenger ueberqueren nicht die Strasse sondern benutzen Unterfuehrungen – Unterfuehrungen die drei Stockwerke in die Tiefe gehen, in denen man Starbucks und Apple Stores findet, und die gross genug sind, dass man sich darin verlaufen kann – was wir auch prompt mehrmals getan haben. Weisse um Hilfe zu bitten bringt da nicht viel – sie sind meistens selber Touristen. Aber die Locals sprechen alle gut genug englisch, um einem weiterhelfen zu koennen, oder einen zumindest stumm in die richtige Richtung zu weisen.

Fuer meine amerikanischen Freunde, die von den oeffentlichen Verkehrsmitteln in der Bay Area schwaermen, waren die Busse und die MRT (Metro) die Quelle endloser Verwunderung. Busse, die sich tatsaechlich an einen Fahrplan halten? Saubere Bahnen? Oder - fuer den Semester at Sea-gewoehnten Reisenden noch erstaunlicher – Festpreise fuer Taxis? Auch wenn ich nicht vor Begeisterung sprachlos war, muss ich zugeben, dass auch ich beeindruckt war. Obwohl die Metro dem BART-System sehr aehnlich ist, was die Scanner an den Eingaengen und Ausgaengen angeht, ist sie sehr viel Umwelt- und Benutzer-schonender. Die Fahrkartenautomaten haben ein Touchpad, auf dem man auf einer Karte die richtige Station anwaehlt (d.h., man muss nicht doppelt und dreifach ueberpruefen, dass man die richtige Nummer oder Preisklasse angegeben hat), und spucken nach dem Bezahlen eine kleine Plastikkarte aus, die man nach der Fahrt an den gleichen Maschinen gegen einen Sing Dollar eintauscht. Hier werden auf jeden Fall keine Baeume verschwendet.

Wenn man die Groesse der Stadt bedenkt, ist es erstaunlich, wieviele coole Sachen man machen kann. Obwohl es Sonntag Abend war, waren ueberall Halloweenaktivitaeten. Ich war auf einer Halloween-Nachtrundfahrt im Zoo (der angeblich einer der besten der Welt sein soll). Wir haben Essen von so ziemlich jedem Kontinent serviert bekommen, weil singaporeanische Kueche nun mal so aussieht, und ausserdem voellig verrueckte Nachtische wie Drachenfrucht und chinesischen Baumkuchen, der im Grunde nur aus regenbogenfarbigen Tapiocalagen besteht. Die Nachtrundfahrt selber war einfach nur verrueckt. Der Zoo hat keine Kaefige, also ist das einzige, was einen von den Hyaenen, Elefanten, Loewen, Tigern, Wasserbueffeln, Hippos und einigen exotischen Viechern, von denen ich noch nie etwas gehoert hatte, trennt, ist ein Graben. Dieser Graben ist angeblich tief genug, dass die Tieren und die Menschen jeweils auf ihrer Seite bleiben, aber es war trotzdem sehr ernuechternd zu realisieren, dass alle diese Tiere riesig sind. Man kriegt in einem normalen Zoo oder auf einer Safari nicht so richtig ein Gespuer dafuer, aber wenn sie nur ein paar Meter entfernt liegen, wird einem schon klar, dass Menschen in der freien Wildbahn nicht ganz oben auf der Hackordnung waeren.

Die Halloweendeko hat das Ganze gleich noch etwas besser gemacht. Sie war relativ zahm, vorallem weil viele Kinder im Zoo unterwegs waren, aber es war trotzdem ein bisschen unheimlich, die Zombies und Geister (oder Zoomitarbeiter, die als Zombies und Geister verkleidet waren) aus dem Wald hervorkommen oder voellig unerwartet auf unsere Bahn springen zu sehen. Ausserdem hatte unser Fuehrer die unheimlichste Lache, die man sich vorstellen kann. Ich muss wohl nicht noch hinzufuegen, dass ich sehr viel Spass hatte, auch wenn ich die mysterioese Pontianak, von der unser Fuehrer staendig sprach, nicht zu sehen bekommen habe. Ich gehe davon aus, dass sie die asiatische Variante der weissen Frauen ist, aber ohne Internet ist es schwer, so etwas herauszufinden. :(

Nach dem Zoo gings dann gleich weiter zu Clarke Quay, Singapurs Partyzone. Man hat schon gemerkt, dass es Sonntag Abend war, aber es waren trotzdem noch einige Leute unterwegs. Es hat Spass gemacht, aber ich wuerde es wahrscheinlich nicht weiter erwaehnen, wenn die Gegend nicht so verrueckt gewesen waere. Das ganze Gebiet wird von einem Dach ueberspannt, damit die aufgetakelten Jungs und Maedels nicht nassgeregnet werden, es gibt einen riesigen Springbrunnen und Clubs wie die Clinic, in dem man in Rollstuehlen sitzt und Getraenke mit Strohhalmen aus einem Tropf trinkt. Es gibt sogar ein Schild, bei dem man sich in eine Schlange stellt, um auf ein Taxi zu warten. Und es ist natuerlich alles einwandfrei sauber dafuer, dass sich hier die Betrunkenen aufhalten.

Frueh am naechsten Morgen (fuer meinen Geschmack ein bisschen zu frueh >.>) haben wir uns auf den Weg nach Sentosa, dem Spielplatz fuer Erwachsene, gemacht. Hier gibt es Kasinos, Straende und Strandbars, Einkaufszentren, Resorts, riesige Suesskramlaeden, und, ach ja, Universal Studios. Da sind wir nicht hingegangen. Stattdessen haben wir in einem der zehn besten Restaurants der Welt, dessen Name ich natuerlich vergessen habe, zu Mittag gegessen, und dann eine halbe Stunde in einem der Suesskramlaeden verbracht. Wusstet ihr, dass es Kissen gibt, die wie M&M Tueten oder Hershey’s Riegel aussehen? Die sind richtig suess. Ich war echt in Versuchung.

Nachmittags hat sich unsere Gruppe dann weitgehend aufgeloest und ich bin mit Amanda und Kelly zum Singapore Flyer, dem groessten Riesenrad der Welt, weitergezogen. Einmal rum dauert ungefaehr 40 Minuten in einer klimatisierten Kapsel, in die 28 Leute passsen. Bei 28 Kapseln koennt ihr das ja mal selber ausrechnen. Aber es war Montag Mittag, deswegen hatten wir eine Kapsel fuer uns allein. Das Rad ist nach Feng Shui-Prinzipien designed, deswegen dreht es sich auch im Uhrzeigersinn, und deswegen taucht die 28 auch ueberall auf. Aber das vergisst man schnell, wenn man nach unten schaut und realisiert, wie hoch oben man eigentlich ist. Leider war es nicht hoch genug, um oben auf das drei-gebauedige Hotel mit dem Infinity Pool auf dem Dach, in dem einige SAS Studenten uebernachtet haben, draufzuschauen. Ich haette gerne die 20 Dollar bezahlt, um selbst mal den Pool zu besichtigen, aber wir hatten keine Zeit mehr. Der Flyer wars aber wert, und wenn nur, um die tausende von Schiffen zu sehen, die am Hafen an- und ablegen. Man hoert zwar, dass Singapur ein wichtiger Handelshafen ist, aber tatsaechlich Frachter bis an den Horizont zu sehen ist noch mal was ganz anderes.

Unser letzter Stopp in Singapur war Max Brenner’s, ein Laden, der jede erdenkliche Form von Schokolade verkauft. Heisse Schokoladengetraenke, kalte Schokogetraenke, Schokoladenpfannkuchen, Schokoladensuppe, und dann einfach nur gute alte Schokolade. Es gibt auch einen in New York, also fuer die Schokoladenliebhaber an der Ostkueste wuerde sich ein Besuch echt lohnen.

Also, hier haben wir eine Stadt, die schoen, sauber, und gruen ist. Die Regierung hat in den Sechzigern eine Begruenungskampagne gestartet, deswegen gibt es soviele Pflanzen wie Hochhaeuser. Jeder Einwohner hat ein Zwangs-Sparkonto, auf das 20% des Einkommens eingezahlt werden, und 80% der Bevoelkerung lebt in staatlichen Wohnungen. Und ganz im Ernst – das sind echt schoene Wohnungen. Die oeffentlichen Verkehrsmittel sind extrem effektiv, und die Passkontrolle lief absolut problemlos ab.

Klingt himmlisch, nicht? Ist es schon, bis man bedenkt, dass die Stadt nur so sauber und nett und sicher ist, weil die staatliche Kontrolle so extrem ist. Weibliche Einwohner, die keine offiziellen Staatsbuerger sind, muessen alle drei Monate testen lassen, ob sie schwanger sind. Sind sie es, koennen sie ihr Kind entweder abtreiben oder gehen – nur, damit die Zahl der Immigrantenbabies, die Anspruch of Staatsbuergerschaft erheben koennten, minimal bleibt. Wenn man mit in der Metro mit brennbaren Fluessigkeiten erwischt wird, zahlt man 5000 Dollar (ja, mit drei Nullen) Strafe. Von der Zwangstodesstrafe fuer den Besitz von mehr als 2 Gramm Heroin oder 15 Gramm Gras gar nicht zu sprechen. Vor ein paar Jahren wurde ein Mitglied einer Koenigsfamilie (aus welcher wollte mir aus irgendeinem Grund keiner sagen) wegen Marihuana-Besitz hingerichtet. Also ist Singapur nicht meine Traumstadt. Aber wenn sie die Gefaengnisstrafen ein bisschen herunterfahren und die Todestrafe abschaffen wuerden, koennte sie es sein.

Alles Liebe von 07˚ 7.6N/107˚ 9.7E
Alexa

[Sorry, dass ich diesen Blog for dem ueber Indien poste. Indien war fuer mich haerter als die anderen Laender, und ich versuche immer noch, meine Zeit dort in Worte zu fassen. Aber ich wollte euch nicht bis nach Vietnam aufs naechste Update warten lassen, also habe ich Singapur vorgezogen. Tut mir Leid. :( Ich versuche auf jeden Fall so bald wie moegluch ueber Indien zu schreiben.]

News from the Boat: Mauritius

I’ll be honest, here: Before I took a look at the Semester at Sea itinerary, I’d never heard of Mauritius. Port who? Mauritius is so small that it’s the most densely populated country on the planet – with a grand total of 1.3 million people. The only real native, the Dodo bird, has been extinct for several hundred years, so the island culture is a funky mix of Indians, Africans, and the leftovers of European settlers. And, of course, tourists.
Mauritius is what people mean when they talk about a tropical paradise. The water is a gentle turquoise, the sand pure white, and the palm trees look like something off of a poster. There are villas to rent right on the beach, catamarans to take you snorkeling, scuba diving and jet skies. Add 600+ bored, over-worked college students and you’ve got Party Central for 36 hours straight.

        Tropical paradise + cheap booze + 604*(18-22 year olds)^bored = disaster.

That’s not to say that I didn’t have a good time. After 6 weeks of non-stop action, I was as ready to just let loose for two days as the next person. But just to give you an idea about Semester at Sea and Mauritius: The Mauritian government won’t allow Semester at Sea to stay for more than two days. Not even the administration takes it seriously. We did not have a cultural preport (or rather, we had a guy at the cultural/logistical preport saying, “We are not here for the culture, guys. This is Spring Break.”), we did not have a postport, we barely even got a fifteen minute segment about it in our Global Studies course (which just today did a 75 minute lecture about Indian art and economy alone). So yes, I was a little bit disappointed in Semester at Sea for that.

Which doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy myself. I had a blast. I don’t think I’ve ever been anywhere so beautiful, the people were amazingly friendly, and I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of lying on a boat and occasionally going diving with tropical fish to cool off. I asked our cab driver about the UNESCO world heritage site in Port Louis (a museum dedicated to slavery), and after initially thinking that I was asking what UNESCO was – which I’d laugh at, but I’ve met to many people who’d never even heard of it before this trip to feel safe doing that – he went on a 20 minute rant about the history of Mauritius, the top sites, best shopping, what we need to do before we leave, where to go out at night, and oh, by the way, this is sugar cane growing by the road, do you want to stop and pick some? So he taught us how to peel it with our teeth, how to bite it off right (which is harder than you’d think), and how to get the many many fibers off your tongue once you’re done.

We spent the entire day at the beach, and the entire second day on a catamaran cruising around the island, looking for good snorkeling spots. The funny thing about tropical fish is that they look really boring from far away. Yes, there are angel fish and a couple of see-through ones, but those get old fast. But then you dive down some and the black fish suddenly has blue dots all over, the blue one has green fins, and the grey one is really rainbow colored. Mind you, when a sea urchin lights up in red, green, and blue, it’s about to shoot its quills at you – as someone on the trip had to find out. Nevertheless, it was still a great trip (the kid is fine, dumb as he is) and we were all definitely sad to leave.

One thing that I will say about Semester at Sea, and how I can feel it changing me, is this: I’ve stopped being able to fully enjoy places like Mauritius. I had an amazing time and would love to come back for a full-fledged vacation, but at the same time, there is always that nagging feeling at the back of my mind that this is a third-world country. People here are *poor*. The only reason you can get designer clothes at factory prices is because the laborers here are so badly paid that Billabong or Hugo Boss find it feasible to have their clothes made here and not in, say, China. The only natives you find at the beach are the ones trying to sell you necklaces and shells. And even digging up coral in the sand loses its magic when you realize that these all pieces come from the coral reefs surrounding the island – and the only reason they’re there is because the reef that’s dying. It’s a bittersweet thing, going to all these amazing places. It certainly makes you understand why people say ignorance is bliss.

Lots of love from 11? 10.0N/081? 1.7E
Alexa

P.S. Pictures from Mauritius are here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=248848&id=834707681&l=4d03133a7f

Neues vom Boot: Mauritius

Ich werde hier mal ehrlich sein: Bevor ich mir die Semester at Sea Route angeschaut habe, hatte ich noch nie von Mauritius gehoert. Port wer? Mauritius ist so klein, dass es das am dichtesten bevoekerteste Land der Welt ist – mit ganzen 1.3 Millionen Einwohnern. Der einzige echte Ureinwohner, der Dodo, ist schon seit mehreren Jahrhunderten ausgestorben, daher besteht die Kultur der Insel aus einer seltsamen Mischung aus Indern, Afrikaners, und den Ueberresten europaeischer Einwanderer. Und natuerlich Touristen.

Mauritius ist der Ort, den Leute meinen, wenn sie von tropischen Paradiesen reden. Das Wasser ist ein sanftes tuerkis, der Sand strahlend weiss, und die Palmen sehen aus wie auf einem Poster. Es gibt direkt am Strand Villen zu mieten, Katamarane, mit denen man schnorcheln gehen kann, Tauchen und Jet Skies. Addiere ueber 600 gelangweilte, ueberarbeitete Studenten, und schon hast du 36 Stunden lang reine Party.

        Tropisches Paradies + billiger Alkohol + 604*(18 bis 22 jaehrige)^gelangweilt = Katastrophe.

Ich will damit nicht sagen, dass ich es nicht genossen habe. Nach 6 Wochen non-stop Action war ich genauso bereit, mich mal zwei Tage lang zu entspannen wie alle anderen auch. Aber nur um das Verhaeltnis von Semester at Sea und Mauritius mal deutlich zu machen: Die mauritianische Regierung laesst Semester at Sea nicht laenger als zwei Tage belieben. Nicht mal unsere Administration nimmt es Ernst. Wir hatten keinen kulturellen Preport (d.h., ein Typ beim kulturellen/logistischen Preport meinte, „Wir sind hier nicht wegen der Kultur, Leute. Das hier ist Spring Break.“), wir hatten keinen Post-Port, wir hatten vielleicht eine Viertelstunde Vorbereitung in unserem Global Studies Kurs (das heute 75 Minuten auf indische Kunst und Wirtschaft allein verwendet hat). Also ja, ich war schon ein bisschen enttauescht von Semester at Sea, was das angeht.

Wie gesagt, das heisst nicht, dass es mir nicht gefallen hat. Ich fand es toll. Ich glaube nicht, dass ich schon mal an so einem schoenen Ort war, die Leute waren unheimlich freundlich, und ich glaube nicht, dass ich es jemals Leid sein werde,  auf einem Boot zu liegen und ab und zu zur Abkuehling mit tropischen Fischen schnorcheln zu gehen. Ich habe unseren Taxifahrer gefragt, was die UNESCO World Heritage Site in Port Louis waere (ein Museum fuer Sklaverei), und nachdem er erst einmal dachte, dass ich wissen wollte, was UNESCO ist (worueber ich lachen wuerde, aber ich habe schon zuviele Leute kennengelernt, die vor dieser Reise noch nie von UNESCO gehoert hatten, um mich dabei sicher zu fuehlen), hat er eine zwanzigminuetige Rede ueber die Geschichte von Mauritius gehalten, die tollsten Sehenswuerdigkeiten, das beste Shoppen, was wir unbedingt machen muessen, bevor wir wieder ablegen, wo man am Besten nachts Party macht, und, ach ja, uebrigens, das Gruenzeug am Strassenrand ist Zuckerrohr, wollt ihr anhalten und welches pfluecken? Also hat er uns beigebracht, wie man es mit den Zaehnen schaelt, wie man es richtig abbeisst (was schwerer ist, als man meinen sollte), und wie man hinterher die ganzen Fasern wieder von der Zunge bekommt.

Wir haben den ganzen Tag am Strand verbracht, und den ganzen zweiten Tag auf einem Katamaran, der um die Insel herumcruiste und nach guten Schnorchelplaetzen gesucht hat. Das Seltsame an tropischen Fischen ist, dass sie von weit weg ziemlich langweilig aussehen. Ja, es gibt ein paar Angel Fish und auch ein paar durchsichtige, aber die werden schnell alt. Aber dann taucht man etwas tiefer und der schwarze Fisch hat auf einmal ueberall blaue Punkte, der blaue hat gruene Flossen, und der graue ist in Wirklichkeit regenbogenfarbig. Uebrigens: Wenn ein Seeigel rot, gruen und blau aufleuchtet, ist er kurz davor, seine Nadeln nach einem zu schiessen, wie jemand auf unserrem Trip erfahren musste. Aber es war trotzdem ein toller Ausflug (Dummheit beiseite geht es dem Kerl gut) und wir waeren alle gerne noch etwas geblieben.

Eines, was ich ueber Semester at Sea, und die Art, wie es mich veraendert, zu sagen, ist dieses: Ich kann Orte wie Mauritius nicht mehr bedingungslos geniessen. Ich hatte eine tolle Zeit und wuerde sehr gerne noch mal echt Urlaub dort machen, aber gleichzeitig gibt es da immer dieses unangenehme Gefuehl, dass Mauritius eben doch ein Dritte Welt Land ist. Die Leute hier sind *arm*. Der einzige Grund, warum man hier Designerklamotten so billig kaufen kann, ist, weil die Herstellungskosten mit denen von beispielsweise China mithalten koennen. Die einzigen Einwohner, die man am Strand findet, sind diejenigen, die den Touristen Ketten und Muscheln verkaufen wollen. Und selbst Koralenstuecke am Strand ausbuddeln macht keinen Spass mehr, wenn einem klar wird, dass die Stuecke alle von den Korallenriffen um die Insel herum stammen – und der einzige Grund, warum sie da sind, ist, weil die Riffe sterben. Alle diese tollen Orte zu sehen hat sowohl gute als auch schlechte Seiten. Man versteht auf jeden Fall das Sprichwort „Ignorance is bliss.“

Alles Liebe von 11? 10.0N/081? 1.7E
Alexa

P.S. Bilder von Mauritius gibt es hier: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=248848&id=834707681&l=4d03133a7f

South Africa - English

Alright. So, over a month and four countries into my trip, I finally caved. Here’s my blog. It’s even bilingual for your convenience, so y’all better write me replies.

I will try to fill in Spain, Morocco, and Ghana at a later date, but as of right now, here’s my six days in soccer nation:

As much as I loved my time down here, immigration was a bigger hassle than any other country so far. Starting at six, we were called over the PA by decks (“Seas”) to report to the immigration officials with our passports, so there went all chance of sleep. Dogs were brought on board to check for drugs and stowaways. A couple of international students (from Asian countries) ended up not being allowed off the ship at all because a new law was passed just a week or two ago that now requires them to have visas. I don’t think us Westerners realize how privileged we are in that regard.

Strangely enough, when we finally made it off the ship, there was nothing to indicate that we were actually in Africa. White people! White people everywhere! The V&A Waterfront, which was where we were docked, is a gigantic shopping mall/entertainment center, so not only is it where all the tourists go, it’s also one of the richer areas, meaning that predominantly white people work there. Not that it’s not worth seeing, or that it wasn’t nice to have wifi and souvenir shops again after going completely without in Ghana, but even Table Mountain in the background didn’t make it feel any less American.

I finally made it away from the Waterfront on the second day to go to Boulders Beach to see penguins, and that feeling that I was back in the States? Did not go away. Landscape wise, the rolling hills look a lot like California in the winter time, and add the 60 Degree weather complete with wind and fog, and you feel like you’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere and made it back to San Francisco. Although the penguins were new. Boulders Beach is allegedly a warm water beach where all the penguins hang out and you can go swimming with them if you’re lucky. We were not lucky. The water was freezing cold, and all the penguins were huddled up between the rocks to keep warm. But we still managed to get plenty of awesome pictures, with and without penguins. Penguins may be sleek and elegant in the water, but on dry land, their awkwardness even outdoes camels. Also, one of them attacked my friend’s camera, so if a penguin ever cocks its head at you, be wary. It’s not trying to be cute.

But, as awesome as the penguins were, they cannot live up to my Safari. It was just a day trip to a small private reserve called Aquila, but man, did I get to see animals. My roommate Amanda had happened to sign up for the same trip, and it also happened to be her birthday the day before, so we were pretty groggy on the way there. We had amazing breakfast though and got to see ostriches and buffalo out the windows. Amanda took forever to get ready, so in an amazing stroke of luck, we ended up being on the last ATV. We were only four people total, as opposed to the 9-12 in the other vehicles, so we got to thoroughly talk to our guide, who took us really close to the elephants and giraffes, let us touch a mountain tortoise, and even let us duck under the outer fence at the leopard cage so we could take better pictures. We actually got to see all of the Big Five, the five most dangerous animals to hunt: Buffalo, Rhinos, Elephants, Lions, and Leopards. The leopard was in a cage, mind you, because they had just recently rescued it from an organization that was breeding it as hunting game and were still trying to get it used to the idea of outdoor living, but it was incredibly beautiful. Elephants and rhinos and buffalos are all impressive because they’re big, and lions are impressive because they’re lions (and they were posing on a rocky ledge, so that had a big Lion King vibe to it), but the leopard was actually gorgeous to look at. Needless to say, I had a great time. I usually don’t enjoy SAS trips too much, but the Safari was just all around an awesome experience.

Aside from the last day, the rest of my time in South Africa (2 and a half days) was dedicated to a service project for my leadership class. Originally we had wanted to talk about dental hygiene because two of the people in our group are studying to be doctors or dentists, so we contacted an organization called Youth For Christ that (among other things) supports a small community of farm workers and a local school. Originally we were going to work with the farm community, but then were told that our efforts would be more valuable at the school. Well, we went to visit the school on the first day of our project, only to be told by one of the two teachers that we were working with that he would much rather we inspired the kids, showed them a world beyond school and home. Of course, our first thought was to take the kids out to actually see the world, because even though the beach is maybe ten minutes of driving time away, a lot of them have never actually seen it. Unfortunately our plans were nixed by the principal who told us that since recently, field trips have to be pre-approved by the government two months in advance because a lot of schools were undertaking field trips in unsafe transportation and many children ended up dying in car accidents. So we decided instead tell them about our lives, show them pictures, play games to teach them how to think outside the box. It wasn’t anything like we had originally intended, but it was still great. All the kids wanted to hug, hold hands, sing for us, play games with us. We were still completely exhausted afterwards and ended up mostly just hanging out at the village. We did see a cow get slaughtered right there on the road, that is, we watched the dead body get hacked apart with axes. I really don’t know what it is with dead cows on this trip. It was fascinating, though.

We ended up only talking about dental hygiene for 15 minutes or so, but I would still call the trip a big success. Absolutely exhausting, but we made it!

My last day was dedicated to shark cage diving. It doesn’t really make sense considering that, you know, sharks scare me, but for some reason, I really wanted to go. No matter that almost everyone who went earlier that week either didn’t get to go because the seas were too rough or didn’t actually see any sharks, no matter that we had to be there at 7:30 and weren’t scheduled to be back until 5, a mere hour before on-ship time. It took us a good hour to find somewhere to anchor because the seas were so rough and ended up in an area where few sharks go this time of year, but we still gave it a shot. One of the crew people hacked up fishes to throw into the water to attract sharks, another had a tuna head on a rope to give the shark something visual to focus on. It took another hour or so, but then we finally got that call of “Shark! Shark! Shark!” and looked over the side just in time to see a gigantic dark shape disappear underneath the boat. Well, naturally we all rushed into the water. ;) I was in the first group, so the four of us climbed into the cage, which is really just a rusty bunch of iron bars with a couple of flotation devices. You stay above water until the crew yells at you to get down, then you hold your breath and duck under and hopefully see a shark swim right by the cage. And believe me when I say that the water is freezing cold. I wasn’t shivering, I was shaking. But funnily enough, the actual diving itself wasn’t half as terrifying as you’d think. Honestly, sharks are slightly goofy looking. I mean, they’re big, and their teeth are impressive enough that I wouldn’t want to be in the water with them without a cage between us, but sharks themselves really don’t look like much. But I still had a blast, I took some great pictures, and I think I aged five years on the way back because we passed a sign saying Cape Town 57 km at 20 minutes to five, and two minutes later the six lane highway suddenly turned into one lane in each direction. But we made it! No dock time for Mauritius. I even managed to drop off my postcards. :)

For me, what distinguished South Africa from the rest of the countries I’ve seen so far is the inequality. Yes, Ghana was incredibly poor, but at least everybody was poor. Going from the Waterfront to the farming community might as well have been going to another country. Apartheid hasn’t been over long, and although changes are happening, they’re slow. People were telling me about racist remarks they heard from white locals (who don’t even make up 10 percent of the population, so who are they to talk?), and the school we visited was all either black or colored children. And yes, there’s probably a reason why Cape Town is the most violent city in the world. There was just tension everywhere, and although I didn’t get to go to Robben Island, I think I’ve gotten a sense of the underlying conflict in this country. It scares me. Especially considering how similar the concept of blacks having to have passes during Apartheid is to the Arizona Immigration Bill, I think this is one topic where we all need to be extremely cautious.

Nevertheless, I enjoyed myself immensely. Between getting up early every day and going out every night, I barely slept for six days. I got stung by bugs, was freezing cold, got sunburned, and spent obscene amounts of money (compared to the other countries, at least). And it was totally worth it.

Lots of love from 30˚ 50.7S/030˚ 46.3E

Suedafrika - Deutsch

Also. Ueber einen Monat und vier Laender, nachdem meine Reise angefangen hat, habe ich endlich nachgegeben. Hier ist mein Blog. Er ist sogar zweisprachig, um es euch leichter zu machen, also erwarte ich von euch Kommentare.

Ueber Spanien, Markokko und Ghana werde ich versuchen, spaeter noch zu schreiben. Fuer heute gehts um meine sechs Tage in der Fussballnation:

Auch wenn meine Zeit hier unten toll war, war das Einreisen schwieriger als in jedem der zuvorigen Laender. Ab sechs Uhr morgens wurden wir ueber  Lautsprecher je nach Deck (sogenannten ‘Seas’) aufgerufen, mit unseren Paessen vor den Immigration officials zu erscheinen, also ging dam it Schlafen nicht so viel. Es wurden Hunde an Bord gebracht, um nach Drogen und blinden Passagieren zu suchen. Manche der intenational students (aus aisiatischen Laendern) durften im Endeffekt ueberhaupt nicht vom Schiff, weil vor ein oder zwei Wochen ein neues Gesetz durchgesetzt wurde, nach dem sie jetzt zum Einreisen Visen brauchen. Ich glaube nicht, dass wir uns aus dem Westen klar ist, wie gut wir es in dem Sinne haben.

Seltsamerweise gab es, nachdem wir es endlich vom Schiff geschafft hatten, nicht wirklich irgendetwas, woran man haette erkennen koennen, dass wir in Afrika sind. Weisse! Ueberall Weisse! Die V&A Waterfront, wo wir angelegt hatten, ist ein riesiges Einkaufszentrum/Entertainment Center, also sind da nicht nur die ganzen Touristen, sondern ist es auch eine der reicheren Gegenden, also arbeitet da hauptsaechlich die weisse Bevoelkerung. Nicht, dass sich ein Besuch nicht lohnen wuerde, oder dass es nicht angenehm war, mal wieder Wifi und Souvenir shops zu haben, nachdem es in Ghana keins von beidem gab, aber selbst Table Mountain im Hintergrund es nicht weniger amerikanisch erscheinen lassen.

Am zweiten Tag habe ich es endlich von der Waterfront weggeschafft, um am Boulders Beach Penguine anzuschauen, und das Gefuehl, in den Staaten zu sein, hat nicht nachgelassen. Von der Landschaft her erinnern die Huegel stark an Kalifornien im Winter, und die Aussicht zusammen mit den 15 Grad, dem Wind und dem Nebel hat doch stark das Gefuehl erweckt, man waere irgendwo falsch abgebogen und waere wieder in San Fracisco gelandet. Auch wenn die Pinguine neu waren. Boulders Beach ist angeblich ein Warmwasserstrand wo sich die ganzen Pinguine herumtreiebn, und wenn man Glueck hat, kann man mit ihnen schwimmen. Wir hatten kein Glueck. Das Wasser war eisig kalt, und die ganzen Pinguine hatten sich zwischen den Felsen verkrochen, um warm zu bleibem. Aber wir haben trotzdem tolle Fotos gemacht, mit und ohne Pinguine. Die moegen ja im Wasser ganz elegant aussehen, aber auf dem Trockenen sind sie noch unbeholfener als Kamele. Und einer von ihnen hat die Kamera meiner Freundin angegriffen, also vorsichtig sein. Wenn ein Penguin den Kopf schieflegt, dann ist es nicht, um sues auszusehen.

Aber egal wie toll die Pinguine waren, sie koennen mit meiner Safari nicht mithalten. Es war nur ein Tagesausflug zu einem privaten Reservat namens Aquila, aber Mann, ich habe vielleicht Tiere zu sehen gekriegt. Meine Zimmergenossin Amanda hatte sich fuer den gleichen Trip angemeldet, und hatte zufaellig am Tag vorher Geburtstag, also waren wir beide an dem Morgen relativ fertig. Aber es gab tolles Fruehstueck, waehrend dem man durchs Fenster  Strausse und Bueffel sehen konnte. Amanda hat gluecklicherweise ewig gebraucht, deswegen sind wir im letzten ATV unserer Gruppe gelandet. Da wir insgesamt nur 4 Leute waren, im Gegensatz zu den 9 bis 12 in den anderen Gefaehrten, konnten wir uns ausfuehrlich mit unserem Fuehrer unterhalten, der uns ganz nah an die Elefanten und Giraffen heranbrachte, un seine Bergschildkroete hat anfassen lassen und uns sogar unter dem aeusseren Zaun am Leopardenkaefig hat durchtauen lassen, damit wir bessere Fotos machen konnten. Wir haben tatsaechlich alle der Big Five, der fuenf gefaehrlichsten Tiere (zum Jagen) gesehen: Bueffeln, Nashoerner, Elefanten, Loewen und Leoparden. Der Leopard war halt in einem Kaefig, weil sie ihn erst vor Kurzem von einer Organisation gerettet habe, die Leoparden fuer die Jagd heranzieht, und ihn noch ans Leben in der Wildnis gewoehnen mussten, aber war trotzdem unheimlich schoen. Elefanten und Nashoerner und Bueffel sind alle beeindruckend, weil sie so gross sind, und Loewen sind beeindruckend, weil sie Loewen sind (und sie haben auf einem Felsvorsprung gepost, das hatte schon ein starkes Koenig der Loewen Feeling), aber der Leopard war echt toll anzuschauen. Ich hatte auf jeden Fall einen tollen Tag. Normalerweise stehe ich nicht so auf SAS Trips, aber die Safari war einfach nur insgesamt eine super Erfahrung.

Abgesehen vom letzten Tag, habe ich den Rest meiner Zeit in Suedafrika (2.5 Tage) mit einem gemeinnuetzigen Projekt fuer eine von meinen Vorlesungen verbracht. Eigentlich wollten wir ueber Zahnpflege sprechen, weil zwei Leute aus unserer Gruppe Aerzte beziehungweise Zahnaerzte werden wollen, also hatten wir die Organisation Youth For Christ, die unter anderem eine kleine Gemeinschaft von Farmarbeitern und eine Schule unterstuetzen. Eigentlich wollten wir die Farmarbeiter besuchen, aber dann wurde uns gesagt, dass wir an der Schule mehr ausrichten koennen wuerden. Naja, wir haben die Schule am ersten Tag besucht, nur um uns von einem der beiden Lehrer, mit denen wir zusammenarbeiten sollten, gesagt zu bekommen, dass er es viel lieber haette, wenn wir die Kinder inspiriern koennten, ihnen die Welt jenseits von Schule und Zuhause zeigen. Natuerlich hatten wir da zuallererst die Idee, ihnen tatsaechlich die Welt zu zeigen, da viele von ihnen zum Beispiel noch nie am Strand waren, obwohl er mit Auto nur etwa 10 Minuten entfernt ist. Ungluecklicherweise hat der Rektor den Plan gekillt, weil der Staat seit kurzem 2 Monate Vorlaufzeit fuer saemtliche Ausfluege erfordert, weil viele Schulkinder in der letzten Zeit durch unsichere Transportmittel umgekommen sind. Also haben wir beschlossen, ihnen von uns zu erzaehlen, ihnen Bilder zu zeigen, Spiele mit ihnen zu spielen mit denen sie kreatives Denken lernen. Es hatte nichts damit zu tun, was wir uspruenglich geplant hatten, aber es war trotzdem toll. Alle Kinder wollten uns umarmen, mit uns Haendchen halten, fuer uns singen und mit uns spielen. Wir waren trotzdem hinterher voellig fertig und haben im Dorf selbst hauptsaechlich rumgehangen. Aber wir haben zugeschaut, wie eine Kuh geschlachtet auf der Strasse wuerde (mit Aexten). Ich weiss echt nicht, was mit die ganzen toten Kuehen sollen, auch wenn es faszinierend war.

Ueber Zahnpflege haben wir im Endeffekt nur so eine Viertelstunde ungefaehr geredet, aber ich wuerde sagen, das Ganze war trotzdem erfolgreich. Richtig anstrengend, aber wir habens geschafft!

Am letzten Tag war ich shark cage diving. Macht nicht so richtig Sinn, wenn man bedenkt, dass ich vor Haien Angst habe, aber aus irgendeinem Grund wollte ich es unbending machen. Es war mir egal, dass fast alle, die es unter der Woche versucht hatten, konnten es entweder nicht machen, weil die Wetterbedingungen zu schlecht waren, oder sie haben keine Haie zu sehen bekommen. Es war mir auch egal, dass wir um 7:30 schon da sein mussten und erst um 5, also eine Stunde bevor on-ship time, wieder da sein sollten. Wir haben eine gute Stunde gebraucht, um einen Platz zu finden, wo wir Anker werfen konnten, weil wir so starken Seegang hatten, und waren im Endeffekt in einem Gebiet, wo zu dieser Jahreszeit nur selten Haie sind, aber wir haben es trotzdem versucht. Einer der Crew hat Fische zerhackt und ins Wasser geworfen um Haie anzulocken, und ein anderer hatte einen Thunfischkopf an einem Seil um ihnen etwas Visuelles zu bieten. Es hat noch etwa eine Stunde gedauert, aber dann haben wir endlich den Ruf “Shark! Shark! Shark!” gehoert und noch rechtzeitig ueber die Reling geschaut, um einen dunklen Schatten unter dem Boot verschwinden zu sehen. Da haben wir uns natuerlich alle erst einmal ins Wasser geschmissen. ;) Ich war in der ersten Gruppe, also sind wir vier in den Kaefig gestiegen, der echt nur aus ein paar rostigen Stangen bestand. Man bleibt ueber Wasser, bis jemand von der Crew einem zubruellt, man sollte abtauchen, dann holt man tief Luft und taucht unter und sieht hoffentlich einen Hai am Kaefig vorbeischwimmen. Und glaubt mir, es war tierisch kalt. Ich habe nicht gezittert, ich habe (shaking). Aber seltsamerweise war das Tauchen selbst nicht halb so angsteinfloessend, wie man meinen sollte. Um ehrlich zu sein sehen Haie ein bisschen seltsam aus. Sie sind natuerlich gross und haben genuegend Zaehne, dass ich nicht ohne Kaefig zwischen uns mit ihnen im Wasser sein wollte, aber die Haie selber sehen nicht besonders beeindruckend aus. Aber ich hatte trotzdem sehr viel Spass, habe tolle Fotos gemacht, und bin auf dem Rueckweg ungefaehr fuenf Jahre gealtert, weil wir um 20 vor fuenf gerade an einem Schild vorbeikamen, laut dem Cape Town noch 57 km entfernt war, und dann verengte sich die sechsspurige Autobahn auf einmal auf eine Spur in jede Richting. Aber wir haben es geschafft, d.h. ich habe fuer Mauritius keine Docktime, und ich habe sogar noch meine Postkarten abgeben koennen.

Fuer mich war der Unterschied zwischen Suedafrika und dem Rest der Laender, in denen wir schon waren, die Ungleichheit. Ja, Ghana war unheimlich arm, aber da waren wenigstens alle arm. Die Waterfront und das Dorf der Farmarbeiter haetten in unterschiedlichen Laendern liegen koennen. Apartheid ist halt noch nicht so lange vorbei, und auch wenn sich die Dinge veraendern, tun sie das eben nur langsam. Ich habe viel von rassistischen Kommentaren der weissen gehoert (und da die weniger als 10% der Bevoelkerung sind, bewegen sie sich auf sehr duennem Eis), und die Schule, in der ich war, wurde nur von schwarzen und farbigen Kindern besucht. Und ja, es gibt wahrscheinlich einen Grund, warum Cape Town die kriminellste Stadt der Welt ist. Die Spannung war einfach ueberall, und obwohl ich es nicht nach Robben Island geschafft habe, denke ich trotzdem, dass ich den Konflikt in diesem Land gut mitbekommen habe. Es macht mir Angst. Besonders wenn man bedenkt, wie aehnlich das Prinzip, dass Schwarze waehrend Apartheid Paesse mit sich herumtragen mussten, mit dem Arizona Immigration Bill ist, denke ich dass das etwas ist, wo wir alle sehr mit aufpassen muessen.

Trotzdem habe ich die Zeit in Suedafrika sehr genossen. Dank jeden Tag frueh aufstehen und spaet ins Bett gehen, habe ich sechs Tage lang kaum geschlafen. Ich wurde voellig zerstochen, habe gefroren, habe einen Sonnenbrand gekriegt, und habe unheimlich viel Geld ausgegeben (verglichen mit den anderen Lanedern zumindest). Und es war es eindeutig wert.

Alles Liebe von 30˚ 50.7S/030˚ 46.3E