India: Cochin

My first motive back on the ship was to take a shower. After that, I unpacked, settled back in a bit, and had lunch. By this time the ship really was my comfort zone, and it was nice to return to familiar territory.

 

After lunch, my friend Andrea and I set off to take a ferry to the mainland (we were docked on an island artificially constructed during the time of the British). On the way to the ferry, we were harassed by rickshaw drivers offering to take us around the whole city for only five dollars. We were almost tempted to agree just so that they would stop annoying us. Luckily, we made it to the ferry and realized that we had made the right choice: a ferry ride cost only two rupees, the equivalent of about three cents.

 

Once in the town center, Andrea and I were content with wandering around without a particular schedule. We stumbled upon a local crafts market, looked at flashy covers of Bollywood movies, and had ice cream. At the ice cream place, we chatted with the waiter about the differences of how expensive things are in the states versus India. Andrea noted after we left that Indians do have a big interest in business and moving up the economic ladder, and she wondered if it was because with globalization they could see all of the material wealth out there.

 

We visited another Hindu temple and a mosque for one of Andrea’s classes. In both places we were gawked at by locals since we were in residential areas where most tourists would never frequent. At one point a high-school aged boy joined us for our walk until he met up with some of his friends. Later in the day, near the mosque we were persuaded into playing some badminton with a couple younger boys by their father, who enthusiastically kept score. The jury is still out on whether he was just naturally animated or a little drunk.

 

When we went to the mosque, we saw a Muslim man. He seemed confused to why we had come and asked us briskly, “What do you want!” When we responded that we didn’t want anything, we just wanted to look at the mosque from the outside he seemed very taken aback, and went on his way.

 

We went to a restaurant recommended by one of the Indian LLC’s on the ship where we ran into three other SASers. After a lively dinner we took a rickshaw back to the ferry back to the ship to call it a night.

 

The second day in Cochin, I had an FDP trip going to Kumbalangi, a fishing village located in the backwaters of Cochin. I had become accustomed to seeing lakes and canals heavily pollted with trash elsewhere in India, but slipping into the country the waters became as clean and serene as any in the United States. I guess this would be because the fishermen depend on the water directly for their survival, and cannot substitute bottled water like those living in the cities.

 

To access the village we took traditional boats. These boats were controlled by two men, one in front and the other in the back, who used long bamboo poles to move through the water. On the way, one of the people in our group decided to jump in for a swim! I’m not sure if that was a good choice; he did smell a little funky afterward.

 

Once docked, we were greeted by a village guide and coconut water. As we sipped from the coconut, the villager told us about the usefulness of the coconut tree. While its fruit is used for consumption, the oil  is used for cooking, its husk is used to make coir, which is then made into rope, its roots are used as a medicine, and the trunk is used in construction. Overall, it was a valuable lesson in sustainability because the villagers utilized every part of the tree without having any leftover waste. The state of Kerala reveres the coconut so much that its name translates to “land of coconut.”

 

After hearing about all of the virtues of the coconut, we got to see the coir making process. It involves soaking, drying, and beating the husk in order to turn the husk into a usable fiber. The fiber is then treaded through a wooden contraption where the fibers bind together to make a thicker cord. The contraption looked like a rotating steering wheel and required no mechanical inputs, just three women working the rope. When a good amount of the thicker cord combined, the women stopped the spinning contraption and started to braid three of the cords together. WE saw an even larger rope being made later, which again required only the labor of three men twisting and braiding the rope. I felt the rope after it was completed and it seemed incredibly strong, maybe even enough to hold our ship to the dock!

 

We also saw some of the traditional fishing methods of the village. Some women caught fish with their bare hands, using shrimps as bait. We also saw the ancient Chinese fishing nets in operation. The village did have some fish farming where species caught in the river were grown in ponds until they were large enough to be sold in the market. The ponds also held crabs, and the village guide showed us one whose body was bigger than my head!

 

A potter made a flower pot using a pottery wheel powered by man. He spun it around fast with using a stick and when it was going fast enough he got to work on shaping it. The whole process took less than two minutes but turned out looking like one that had been made on a mechanical wheel.

 

We moved to an incredibly beautiful stretch along the water for a dance performance and then lunch. The performance was called KolKali, and was done by male dancers who beat bamboo sticks together. They sang and beat their sticks the whole time, but the rhythm and mood of the dance varied widely. Sometimes it was almost peaceful, while other times I they were screaming and running fast and banging and I thought they would all run into each other and fall over.

 

Lunch was once again phenomenal, and afterwards we had some free time to enjoy the setting. I wandered down the bank awhile until I reached an old man. He didn’t speak English, but was motioning to his stomach and smiling at me. At first I thought he was asking if I enjoyed the food, but then I realized that he wondered if I had any to give him. As I was shaking my head, one of the villagers ushered me away, and I felt like I had intruded on something. It seemed wrong that as we were feasting one of the villagers did not have enough to eat. I didn’t know the full story, of course, but even the brief experience made me feel uneasy.

 

Rickshaws took us back to the bus, where we proceeded to go to Fort Cochin, a historical area of the city. We visited the oldest church in India, which was much more rustic, but no less spiritual, than those in Europe, and saw the home where Vasco de Gama supposedly lived. We walked along the waterfront and saw fresh fish waiting to be sold. Our last stop on the “tour” was at a supermarket so people could get some snacks for the ship. Thence, we returned home, and concluded our time in India.

India: Travels between Chennai and Cochin

I cannot begin writing about my time between Chennai and Cochin without first thanking Preetha, the woman that made it all happen. A mere week before arriving in India, my mom made the connection that I would be visiting the region of India where Preetha, one of my mom’s coworkers, is from. With that spark Preetha and I emailed back and forth to set up transportation, accommodation, and places to visit. I know that I would not have had such a phenomenal experience if it had not been for her.

 

Two of the girls on the RIDE trip, two girls who had stayed in Chennai, and I planned to leave Chennai together the second night in India around the same time the ship returned to sea. However, one of the girls who had stayed in Chennai had gotten food poisoning and was completely unfit to travel. So we left with four: me, Abby, Bekah, and Andrea.

 

We met Prakash, Preetha’s uncle who lives in Chennai, outside the port. Walking out of the port was an experience, though. As I said earlier we were docked in an industrial port so everything was very hazy and dirty. We left the ship after dark so the fifteen minute walk to get to the entrance was illuminated by lights that glowed ominously. It almost felt as though we were walking through Inferno. Every once in awhile a truck would pass by, but other than that it was eerily quiet.

 

As soon as we reached the entrance, however, Prakash was waiting for us. He was extremely friendly, and he talked about his upcoming trip to America and his children. He said he had two children, one boy and one girl, and when I asked if they were friends he laughed and said, “No… they are worst enemies! The boy is quiet but the girl is ferocious!” He then went on to say that many girls are becoming more independent and outspoken, despite old customs.

 

Prakash showed us some sights, and we drove down a street that he called “one of the most beautiful in Chennai.” We saw the new government building which controls the state of Tamil Nadu. It was bright with lights, and Prakash told us that its inaugural day was tomorrow. Prakash then took us to dinner at a very nice private club, and ordered us some Indian food we hadn’t yet tried. One was a brownish color with some peas and spices that I thought was really tasty, and I also really enjoyed the paneer again. We ordered naan even though Prakash said it wasn’t traditional southern Indian food but it was still delicious. I have to say though the best naan I’ve ever had was at Tandoor in Lexington.

 

After dinner Prakash dropped us off at the train station where we were to travel overnight. He boarded the train and made sure we found our seats, and waited with us until it was time to go. We said our thanks and goodbyes and headed for Coimbatore.

 

The man who sat across from me was quiet at first but then we began talking and I realized that he had a lot to say. His name was Mr. Angou and he was a businessman who worked in making specialized steel parts in India and then selling them abroad in the states or Europe. He told me that recently due to the recession, combined with the growing Indian economy, he has been looking at selling his products in India. We also talked about his daughter, who was on a full scholarship to an international grade school in Singapore. Mr. Angou seemed to realize that his family would likely live all over the world, and accepted this with both sadness at the distance and happiness at the opportunities his children would have.

 

I also asked him about the differences he found between America and India. One of the things I remember him saying was about rudeness and traffic. He said that Americans were polite to each other on the roads but then when they got home they were mean to their family, whereas in India people are terrors on the roads but are always respectful to their family. I thought this was very interesting because first of all many Americans would not consider their traffic habits to be polite (by the way, American drivers are prim and proper compared to Indian traffic) and second of all I wondered about the types of experiences Mr. Angou had witnessed in the American home.

 

We arrived in Coimbatore around six, and Mr. Angou waited with us while we called Adhavaraj (whom we called Raj for short), a family friend of Preetha’s who worked in the tour business. Raj found us right away, and he led us to the car and our driver, Vijay, who would be with us for three days. We went straight to Preetha’s mother’s house in Coimbatore for breakfast. She had a lovely home on the second and third stories of a house in a very beautiful neighborhood. I was out on the balcony for a time and could see huge mountains in the distance. It was wonderful to meet her and have an opportunity to wash up and have breakfast before we left with Vijay for Coonoor, where Preetha’s sister-in-law lives.

 

The drive took about three hours, and went through several villages until the road plunged into the forest and began a steep ascent. Even though a couple of us had drifted off initially, it was impossible to sleep once we started climbing—the drastic turns with unexpected tour buses around the corner were enough to keep us wide awake. In addition, Vijay tried to pass whenever he could, honking to see if anyone was around the corner because we really couldn’t see anything. A few times I was sure that we would run head on into another car, but somehow we managed to squeak by. I asked Vijay if he had any Indian music and he put in a CD that soon became the anthem of our trip. Every once in awhile we would see a family of monkeys along the side of the road, and the combination of forest, monkeys, steep switchbacks, wind in our hair, and Indian music made for an epic car ride. As we got further up the mountain we could see tea plantations which looked like carpets of green blanketing the hills. Sometimes colorful villages perched precariously among the tea plantations, including Coonoor, our destination.

 

Coonoor was larger than the villages we passed but it was still a far cry from a city like Chennai. One of the unique things about Coonoor and the region we were in was that it did not allow plastic. So while the rest of India suffered from the pollution of plastic, the Nilgiri mountain area was virtually plastic free. The word Nilgiri means "blue moutains" and we learned that this name came from the fact that lots of eucalypses trees, whose leaves have a blue tint to them, used to be planted in the mountains. However, they consumed too much water so now tea plantations are dominant.

 

We reached Shridevi’s (Preetha’s sister-in-law) house after briefly getting lost and met her mother-in-law, a very old but charming woman. After a short introduction, we all piled back in the car. Shridevi is a general medicine doctor but often finds more usefulness in yoga and meditation than surgery and medication. She also runs a mobile medical van that visits remote hill stations that do not have a resident doctor several times a month.

 

Shridevi took us first to a tea factory, where we got to see, feel, and smell the tea in different stages of processing. The manager of the plant was her friend, so he led us around and explained each of the steps. Although most of the processing was done by machines, the tea plants themselves were still picked by people because the tea leaves have to be handled very carefully for the flavor to remain intact. In addition, tea flavors are influenced by soil content, elevation, and water, so that even the same plant could produce a completely different result depending on the season or elevation. Therefore, blenders use tea from different growers at different times of the year in order to achieve a uniform flavor. The tea factory we visited did not sell directly to the consumer; instead it sold to the middlemen blenders. Shridevi explained that since the tea market was not as profitable as before, many areas were turning to growing flowers. Sure enough, this plantation grew lilies and sold most of them in Bangalore, a city in south-central India. The air in the factory was rich with tea smell—not exactly the smell I was used to for tea, but more of a combination of woody and tea scents.

 

After touring the plantation we had lunch with the owner of the land. His house was situated with a glorious view of the lush mountains and also had unique flowers planted everywhere. In addition to the owner, we also ate with a visiting businessman. The two of them had a very interesting conversation because the owner was Hindu and the businessman was Muslim so they had a lively, but friendly, argument about some Muslim traditions. The Hindu questioned the Muslim traditions of covering women, while the Muslim man defended their traditions of humility. I felt lucky to be privy to this conversation, especially since it reaffirmed that these types of things could be talked about without any violent clashing.

 

We thanked the tea plantation owner and continued on our way. We traversed narrow dirt roads, with no guardrails of course, and arrived in a village high up in the mountains. We met a man with the kindest eyes I have ever seen who led us around his home. It was simple and compact, colorful but not tacky, and most of all, peaceful. The village had a Hindu temple at its center, and Shridevi explained some of the symbols of the structure to us. Several people followed us around the village, and we also visited the home of some of Shridevi’s friends. They insisted that we take tea, balanced with milk and sweetened with sugar. Shridevi explained that sugar was a sign of hospitality, and as a result a disproportionately high number of people living in the hill stations had diabetes.

 

Shridevi led us to a small building on the outskirts of the village. She explained that this was the site where a famous guru had meditated, so now people make pilgrimages to the place to meditate as well. We stopped to meditate, or at least sit peacefully, ourselves. While I don’t have the experience to really comment on the values of meditation, I did feel very at ease with the world sitting there. I don’t know if it was by the virtue of just relaxing, since so much of the trip has been nonstop action, but I did feel a different emotion than I had experienced so far on the trip.

 

After the village, we headed down the other side of the mountain to Mudumalai National Park. While we had experienced the moss-like covering of the mountain, this area was drier and browner, but really no less spectacular. In addition, if you can believe it (I hardly could), the hairpin turns were steeper and scarier. Before we began the descent, we passed a sign telling of all of the deaths and accidents of the previous three years. I remember that in 2008 fifty people died on the road. And I kid you not, some of the turns must have been at least 160 degrees.

 

When we finally got back to flat ground we were greeted with what I would think of as an African savannah—tall grass, small bushy vegetation, and the expectation that wild animals like elephants and tigers were lurking about. We checked into our hotel, the Blue Valley, but turned around shortly afterward because we were told that we could see the elephants. Sure enough, after a twenty minute drive we saw one. I gasped at the hugeness and gracefulness of the elephant, working side by side with an Indian villager. The elephant was moving logs with its huge tusks for the villager. Soon I realized that the elephant had a metal chain attached to its leg and I wondered about the true relationship between the villagers and the elephants, and whether the elephant suffered from its work. I kept quiet though, I think because I didn’t want to ruin the magic of seeing it move.

 

As dusk was settling, Vijay drove further into the reserve. The outlines of the trees were silhouetted by the glorious sunset, and the area seemed to be shrouded in a haze. However, we spotted a family of elephants: two babies and three adults. They were lumbering through the forest, slowly picking through the grass for food. They appeared as shadowy figures, and watching them glide around was truly spectacular.

 

Seeing the elephants reminded me of something I read about for class. It was an article comparing the progress of China and India. It said that while China’s growth appears fierce and smooth like a tiger, but its government masks underlying problems, India’s growth is clumsy and all out in the open as a democracy, like a stampeding elephant. But with my limited experience with elephants, I just saw their majesty and grace.

 

We had a satisfying dinner at the resort’s restaurant, which was steps away from our rooms. The restaurant was open and comfortable, and designed in a similar style to the rooms, which had high ceilings, brick walls, and thatched roofs. It was not ornate, and seemed appropriate for its setting in a mountain valley.

 

The next morning we left early for a safari. While we were waiting for the group to leave, an Indian family came up to us and insisted that we take lots of pictures with them. One woman in particular pinched our cheeks and then kissed her fingers, and was particularly taken with Bekah. One older man, who didn’t speak English, showed us pictures of people who were presumably his sons. Although we didn’t understand what he was saying, it was pretty clear that he was trying to set us up. In fact, they were so fascinated with us that you would think that they came to the wildlife reserve to see us, instead of the wild animals.

 

We boarded the bus which took us around for an hour. It was noteworthy more for its bumpy ride rather than its wildlife viewing, although we did see a water buffalo and a peacock very close to the bus. We also saw several monkeys swinging around in the trees, but overall things were very barren. There were clear indications that there had been a recent fire, although I don’t know if it was accidental or made on purpose. Shridevi explained that the area had been suffering from drought, and the park had in fact been closed a few weeks before and was closing again the day after we left. She told us we were very lucky girls, and I had to agree.

 

On the way back to the resort, we saw more elephants, maybe a half dozen, who were going down to drink and bathe at the water. They crossed the road so close to us, and were absolutely fascinating to watch. One man riding an elephant let us take pictures with him. Bekah was especially excited; it had been her childhood dream to see elephants so we were all really happy that she could fulfill it.

 

After breakfast and some relaxation time at the resort, we loaded into the car to go back up the mountains. It was still terrifying to go around those hairpin turns, though I didn’t involuntarily flinch at every single one any more. At the top of the mountain we boarded the Ooty sightseeing train and took it to Coonoor, where we met up with Shridevi and Vijay again. The train ride was beautiful, stopping at several mountain villages but mostly riding high above tea plantations. We shared the car with a family of three with a boy probably around seven and a couple from Bangalore who were all very nice. I worried sometimes that since we all were on one side of the car to see the views the train would tip over and tumble down the mountain. It was also funny to go through tunnels because the kids riding the train would yell as if we were on a roller coaster.

 

By the time we reached Coonoor, it was about time for lunch so Shridevi took us to a restaurant in Coonoor. I remember enjoying the somewhat spicy prawn dish, and trying Indian ice cream, which was incredibly creamy and delicious. After lunch we all returned to Shridevi’s house. We met Shridevi’s husband, and reunited with his mother. Shridevi showed us albums of her daughter’s Indian dance performance and wedding. The sari’s for both occasions were gorgeous, as were the dance movements. Shridevi explained that every position held a different meaning, and every part of the body had to be exactly controlled. We also looked at atlases to see both where we had been on our trip and to show Shridevi where we were from in America. Abby was from northern California, Bekah was from Connecticut, and Andrea was from Vermont. It was amazing just to remind ourselves again where we had come from and all of the places we had seen. Shridevi’s brother-in-law also visited. He works in Dubai for an oil refinery but because of the health implications of his job he gets several months off a year to return to Coonoor and enjoy the clean air there. Shridevi explained to me later that many high-paying jobs exist in Dubai but Indians have to decide if working there is worth the lower education for their children and the separation from their home country.

 

Too soon, we had to leave Coonoor to return to Coimbatore in time for dinner. Shridevi had to take her car to be inspected, so Bekah and Abby rode with Vijay while Andrea and I joined Shridevi in her car. Shridevi was a much more conservative driver than Vijay, and it was nice to not have to grip on to the sides of the car the whole way down. But most of all, I enjoyed talking to Shridevi about issues I had rolling around in my head since I had arrived in India. I asked her about the caste system, which she thought should be abolished completely, about the role of women in India, about how Indians are responding to global warming, and about what I can possibly do to help people after everything that I have seen. Shridevi asked two things of me.

 

First, she said that when I establish myself and have extra money, I should mentor a child from a poorer background, and give them the tools that I had to help them raise themselves into a higher position. Shridevi said she had “adopted” seven or eight of these children, and the oldest were currently attending college and were finding people to marry. She said that at first she hesitated telling people about everything she was doing but recently she has realized that the best way to help the world as a whole is to spread the word and encourage people to do good works.

 

Her second request of me was to wake up every morning with the idea that I am a mother to the earth. I asked her what she meant by this and she said (approximately) “A mother loves unconditionally, even if her child does a terrible wrong. A mother can always forgive her children. We must forgive the earth for its past mistakes and everyone in it. With this love, we can finally have peace around the world.”

 

I loved hearing this kind and wise woman talk, and soon we were back in Coimbatore. After a quick stop we went out to look at saris and eat. We were joined by Raj and his wife, who we learned was three months pregnant. They looked very happy together and Raj’s wife was glowing. She had jasmine flowers in her hair which smelled amazing, and due to my enthusiasm of them Raj bought us each some jasmine flowers to put in our own hair. We ate at a restaurant and ordered these thin buttery things, I forget now what they are called. Some of them were twisted into the shape of a cone birthday hat. They reminded me of crepes, but were eaten with spicy food.

 

After dinner we returned to Preetha’s mother’s house. Her mother really was too generous and bought us all clothes to take back to America. Before bed, Shridevi taught us some breathing exercises. She was very practiced in meditation and woke every morning at 3:30 to meditate for two hours, and then meditated again around lunchtime and in the evening. She gave us a DVD about yoga and meditation from a famous guru, and also told me about a center in Nashville that she suggested I visit. After this we went to sleep, to wake up at four in order to meet up with the ship when it arrived in Cochin the next morning.

 

We said early goodbyes to Preetha’s mother and Shridevi, and headed to Cochin with Vijay. I tried but didn’t succeed in sleeping, but was fully awake, albeit groggy with experiences, when we arrived at the ship. After some confusion trying to figure out where to go for customs and immigration, we said goodbye to Vijay and embarked the ship. Vijay left us with something to remember him by—his Indian music CD. 

Neptune Day

Even though I haven't finished writing about India, I wanted to write about Neptune Day which happened a couple days ago. Neptune Day celebrates crossing the equator, and was full of excitement.

 

We were woken up around eight by crew members dressed in Roman costumes drumming, whistling, and banging on our doors. Then we gathered in the seventh deck pool area where Mr. Crabtree (executive dean), Mr. White, Mrs. Crabtree, and Don Gogniat (global studies teacher) acted as King Neptune and his court. They were dressed all out with white robes, sparkly crowns, and hula skirts. After introducing everyone with much pomp and cirumstance, it was time for all of us "pollywogs" (people who hadn't yet crossed the equator) to be inducted. The ceremony involved getting drenched in this green, fish-smelling liquid, kissing a fish (yes, actually lip to lip), kissing King Neptune's ring, and then being confirmed by the power of Don Gogniat's sword. Then a bunch of people, including several girls, shaved their heads. It's been interesting walking around the ship recently with so much baldness.

 

After dinner, we finished off the evening with a talent show. It had some really good acts - breakdancers, swing dancers, salsa dancers, singers, guitarists, poets.. just to name a few.

India: RIDE Overnight Village Stay

Like Vietnam, India is taking a long time for me to process. I decided to tackle the problem by splitting it up into smaller, more manageable portions and hopefully this strategy will allow me to divide and conquer.

 

Cheesy metaphors aside, I’m really beginning to appreciate what a huge experience this trip is. I was talking to a friend and we were noting that we have the luxury while traveling on the ship between ports to reflect more or less exclusively about our most recent country. But when we get home and we’re asked about the entire semester, how will we possibly respond? Even talking about one country is overwhelming. With that in mind, I’ll begin India.

 

Our first reality check occurred before we had even arrived in Chennai. Crew members on the ship taped cardboard over hallways and staircases to protect the carpet from grime. The day of arrival was again swelteringly hot. After the routine passport checks and diplomatic briefing, I attended a yoga demonstration on the ship. Since I had a trip leaving at 12:30 and the ship didn’t clear until after 10, the demonstration from 10-11 fit in perfectly. The demonstration was led by one teacher and two students who showed us the positions. Some of them I recognized from previous classes, but others were completely crazy! One was contorted so we could see the front of the man’s head sticking out between his legs and his legs were bent behind him so that his feet were facing away from us, and another the man was balancing perfectly vertically with only the top of his head and his forearms on the ground. The man said that even though the positions looked difficult, with practice they really were quite easy. I’m not convinced though.

 

I enjoyed lunch on the ship before meeting with the SAS group of about thirty to go to the rural village. The program was titled “Child Labor in Rural India: Overnight Village Stay” so I expected to be confronted with some pretty devastating realities. Even on bus we passed unbelievable things… families living under bridges and in shacks along the beach, waterways used as trash cans, and plastic debris everywhere. The women all wore saris, which made a bright contrast with the often dusty roads. It felt very surreal traveling in an air conditioned tour bus alongside all of the poverty, and I was transfixed to the glass for the entire two hour ride.

 

Once arriving at the RIDE (Rural Institute for Development Education) headquarters, tucked away in a nice neighborhood not far from the main road. We met the founder, his wife, and a few helpers, including a girl named Rosie who was a volunteer from New Zealand. We were to stay in a four story building where each floor had its own room full of cots to sleep on, and as soon as we all claimed our space we went outside for tea and biscuits. Shortly afterward, we got back on the bus to visit one of the local schools that RIDE had founded.

 

As soon as we entered the school area, we were greeted by orderly lined up children who gave us beautiful purple flowers. We went inside one of the buildings, which had been donated by previous students on Semester at Sea. There, the children sang us songs and made some presentations on things like the water cycle, the planets, and the national bird, flower, etc. of India. Although some children were more comfortable presenting than others, they all spoke very good English. Some other children performed a dance for us, and they were all very dressed up, with braided hair and flowing skirts. Some children wore uniforms while others wore varied clothing; we learned that those with the uniforms went to the school during the day while the ones without the uniforms only could go to school at night. The children who went to night school either worked or attended government schools during the day. They were between five and fifteen probably, and all had huge smiles and their own personalities.

 

After all of the presentations we had some time to play outside with the children. We taught them hand games and “head, shoulders, knees, and toes” as well as camp songs that all of us somehow still had in the recesses of our memory. We played soccer, catch, and jumped rope. The most exciting thing for them, however, was playing with our cameras. They would say “miss, miss, can I take your picture?” and then would run all over snapping shots mainly of other SAS people. I think we all had a few seconds of panic when we thought our cameras might be dropped or we would never get them back. The children also loved seeing themselves in the picture, and would laugh and smile at us the whole time. A few of them in particular clung on to me, and it made me feel full that I made them happy. Unfortunately, we had to leave (I heard later that cobras come out at dusk so they needed us out before then!) but we carried out the memories of meeting them in our hearts.

 

We returned to the headquarters for a delicious dinner. Although I think the Indian food I like from the US, like naan and tandori chicken, is actually northern Indian cuisine (we were in southern India) I decided that I like this new type of Indian food too. I especially liked paneer and dosas. Paneer is a curd that has a similar texture to tofu, and is mixed with delicious sauces and flavoring, while dosas are similar to pancakes. After dinner, we talked at length to the founder of RIDE, Mr. Jeyaraj. We discovered that the children who went to the school we visited were rescued from working in the quarries. Mr. Jeyaraj told us that many employers of these children got angry at him for taking away their laborers, and in 1997 he had to be hospitalized due to violent attacks. He also said that “Indians hold everything sacred… except their people. Cows and monkeys are sacred but the Indians don’t care for the people.”

 

The next morning, we ate again at the RIDE headquarters before heading out on the bus. We passed rice fields and small villages, where people would look up at our bus curiously, and often smile and wave. We reached our destination and were met by dozens of villagers, some playing drums, others giving us a red mark on our foreheads, and still more putting flowers in our hair. We were led around the village where many invited us inside their humble homes, often with dirt floors, few rooms, but usually still with a TV. Many houses had colorful and ornate chalk drawings outside of their door, I think to please the Gods and ward off bad luck. We also saw traditional methods of doing things, from cooking in clay ovens outside to drying cow manure and straw to use as later as a fuel source. Everyone in the village seemed to be either leading or following us around.

 

We also visited a school, this time with younger students, where the oldest was probably only around seven. The school was one room, and as we entered the children lined up facing us, as we were about to start playing football. Most of the children seemed curious, but not unhappy, to see us, but there was one girl who I noticed who was not pleased that we were there. I watched as her eyes gradually filled with tears as she continued watching us tall, white strange people, until she couldn't hold it back any more and progressed into full fledged wailing. At first I tried to comfort her but after a few minutes I just felt strangled and felt compelled to leave the building. I could not intrude any longer.

 

I wasn't outside of the building five minutes before I was approached by half a dozen Indian women who wanted to show me their houses. It seemed so strange - on the one hand to be greeted by sobs and on the other to be invited into their homes! I almost think that the little girl had it right... we had signed up to see poverty, almost as a tourist attraction in itself without really stopping to consider the individuals. Most kids liked it, wanting to see themselves and play with our cameras, but I couldn't get over feeling like we were on a trip to the zoo.

 

I met up with the group again and visited a final school, this one with older students who were prepared and excited to see us. We sat in small circles with the children, which was much less intimidating for everyone. Two other girls and I sang, counted, and read until we realized the bus was moving! So we made a dash for the door and rejoined the big group.

 

We got back on the bus for a last meal at RIDE before leaving to return to the ship. We thanked Mr. Jeyaraj, the wonderful cooks, and all of the other people helping with RIDE. We ran into horrific traffic on the way back, and it took us three hours to return to the ship when going out had only taken two. Nonetheless, we made it back to the MV Explorer an hour before we were to begin our second part of our Indian adventure.

Singapore, Shipwrecks, and Sea Olympics

This morning my roommate pointed out that today marks the half way point in our voyage. I was stunned. The time in port passes like a flash, and even these past few days on the ship have flown by. I would partially attribute this to trying to digest the last three countries, but mostly because the days themselves have been full of excitement.

 

A few days after Vietnam we docked in Singapore to fill up the gas tank. Apparently the fuel there is cheaper and of better quality than surrounding areas. Anyway, while we knew we were supposedly in Singapore, we were really just saddled up to a tanker in the middle of a busy bay full of many other ships and could barely make out land. A rumor is going around that we will get a Singapore passport stamp, which led to debates about whether we could count Singapore as a country we’ve been. I was opposed to the idea since we didn’t even step on land, but it made me think if airports should count or not.

 

We then passed through the Malacca Straits, which recorded 197 piracy attacks in twelve years. I don’t think anyone would be crazy enough to attack a ship full of college students, but it was still eerie looking out and seeing vague island forms in the distance, wondering who might be lurking out there.

 

Since leaving Vietnam, the waters have been flat and crowded compared to the Pacific. It is not uncommon to see other ships making their way between countries, whereas I don’t even remember seeing one fellow ship in the wide Pacific. Speaking of companions, Professor Abel, the resident Marine Biologist, took a sample of plankton this morning and let me view it under the microscope. His enthusiasm was contagious, and the plankton were really cool—all different colors and shapes. Another thing I spotted today at breakfast was dolphins! I saw six or so of them, not too close but near enough to see their fins appear every so often above the water.

 

I must say though that the biggest happening of this stretch were the Sea Olympics. As I talked about before, different areas on the ship are separated into “Seas”, nine or so total. We competed among seas (and one team composed of faculty, lifelong learners, and children) for the title of Sea Olympic champion. We all got a day off of classes and work to do silly events like synchronized swimming, tug-of-war, and lip singing. It was a beautiful warm sunny day and everyone had a great time bonding and soaking up the sun.

 

I made the banner for my sea, the Mediterranean, with another girl a couple days before the games. It didn’t win, but we were successful in many other things like the Salty Whistle, where the first person who can whistle after eating seven saltines wins, and Crab Soccer, where the four players on each team have to play in crab position on their hands and knees. We also won the lip singing with an awesome choreographing of Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’. That was probably my favorite event to watch; for some reason one team had guys dancing in their underwear to ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’, while another team had guys dance up as girls and sing Spice Girls. Plus, there’s one guy on the ship who’s awesome at break dancing and a few other people who are good at flips so that was fun. The Mediterranean Sea placed third overall, but we won the Spirit Award which was almost more exciting! We really did have the best cheer.

 

And now tomorrow is India! I am so excited for it; my mom connected the dots and realized that one of her coworkers is from the area we are visiting and she has been incredible in planning for my friends and me. I can’t wait!

Vietnam

For some reason, it has been harder to motivate myself to write about my experiences in Vietnam. It may be because I realize that I actually have some time between ports, or that I have more to do on the ship now for my classes. However, I think the main reason lies in the fact that Vietnam is taking me a longer time to process because it affected me more than any other port, and it’s hard to put something down in writing that I’m still figuring out in my head.

 

I went to an Explorer Seminar yesterday where three students on the ship, all of whom were children of Vietnamese refugees, talked about their experiences. It was obviously difficult for them to express everything they took from their trip—one of them hadn’t been back since she moved as a three year old and another had never been to Vietnam and didn’t speak Vietnamese because his parents didn’t want him to be disadvantaged in America. Hearing their stories and seeing how they are grappling with rediscovering their identity finally gave me the inspiration to write.

 

As we had breakfast on the ship the first morning, the first thing I noticed was the weather. It was very hot and humid despite being February; I learned later that Vietnam only has two seasons: wet and dry. We got off the ship around ten and set off to explore Ho Chi Minh City, formerly known as Saigon.

 

Vietnam had its share of modern shops and tall buildings but was nothing compared to the skyscraper madness of Tokyo, Shanghai or Hong Kong. Another thing I quickly noticed about Vietnam was its traffic patterns. Vietnamese don’t really have or pay attention to traffic signals. On top of that, Vietnamese love motorbikes, and sometimes I spotted family of four traveling around. So to cross the street we were told to walk at a slow and steady pace and the traffic would avoid us. I felt a lot like I was playing Frogger, trying to maneuver in a street with a constant stream of traffic. One of the most terrifying things I have ever experienced in my life was trying to cross the street at a chaotic roundabout.

We walked around the city and had beef pho, the traditional Vietnamese soup, and coffee, of which Vietnam is the second largest exporter in the world, for lunch. The Vietnamese like strong coffee with sweetened condensed milk; I thought it was delicious. We visited the War Remnants Museum, which had dozens of gruesome photographs depicting both torture victims and children mutilated from Agent Orange. Everything was very disturbing, and I felt very uncomfortable seeing many of the pictures. The museum was crowded, and I saw several people visibly reacting to the exhibits.

 

We later visited the Ben Thanh market, which located in a huge building larger than a Sam’s Club. The market was overwhelming with smells (some good, some questionable), colors, and people. Some of the vendors were very intense; one of them had a death grip on my arm when I went to leave her shop. I also tried jackfruit for the first time. It is yellow in color and tastes kind of like a mango but has more of a plastic texture. As with most fruits, I enjoyed it.

We all returned to the ship to shower and discard our sweaty clothes before Zack, Lauren and I decided to venture out to Lemongrass, a notable Vietnamese restaurant. When we found the place they said it was full and redirected us to their other location, which happened to be on the fourteenth floor of a hotel. We elected to sit outside on the beautiful deck where we could see the city and our ship. It was a wonderful meal, with spring rolls wrapped in rice paper, fried meatballs, egg rolls, and a beef mango salad for the main course. We decided that the three of us had excellent luck in finding delicious places to eat together, since it was the same people for dinner in Kyoto, Japan.

 

The next day I had an SAS trip planned for the entire day. We first went to a Caodaism Temple. Caodoism is a fusion of a lot of different religions and philosophies including Christianity, Buddhism, and Confucianism. They also have a looser conception of saints, and they pray to icons such as Victor Hugo and Thomas Jefferson (Mark White, the academic dean of the voyage and a professor at UVA, did not let us forget that fact). The religion was created in 1929 because Vietnamese did not want to have to completely convert to Catholicism like the French wanted them to. The temple was a sharp contrast to religious sites I'm used to visiting in Europe and even Japan and China because it was brightly colored to the point of tackyness. We visited during one of the hour-long services, which involved singing and playing instruments from the balcony and dozens of other worshippers on the main floor bowing at certain moments. The men and women were separated by sides to follow the yin and yang balance, and while most people were wearing white robes, some were wearing robes of brilliant blue, yellow or red. Our guide Hung explained to us that novice worshippers wore white and high ranking officials wore colors; the blue represented the Taoism religion, the yellow represented the Buddhist religion, and the red represented the Confucianism belief. We could observe the ceremony from the side balconies, along with dozens of other tourists, which seemed odd to impose on their worshipping. Right outside of the temple, several beggars, mostly children, approached us. I felt uncomfortable with them hanging around us while we waited for our air-conditioned tour bus to whisk us away.

We then went to the Cu Chi tunnels, which the Vietcong constructed during the war. The system was elaborately constructed, with three different levels and lots of traps for unaware soldiers. We got to go into one of the trap doors, which was a tiny opening that was impossible to spot when covered with leaves. Hung showed us a series of traps that were made with household objects like folding chairs. We also learned the Vietcong had techniques to mislead American soldiers from the entrances of the tunnels. For example, Americans used dogs as a means to smell the entrances, so the Vietcong would put pepper near the place so the dog would sneeze and be unable to smell for awhile. After walking around the outside of the tunnels, a guide led us through a section. It was very small and incredibly dark, probably about three feet high and two feet wide. I only walked about thirty meters, but that was enough to convince me that I would not want to live there for ten years, like some Vietcong did. The tunnels were presented with something close to pride, but it was impossible for me to forget how many people died because of this type of war. Eric, one of the Vietnamese students who talked about his experience coming back to the country, described it as “an amusement park of death.” On top of everything, there was a chance to shoot of guns including AK-47’s at a firing range, which made walking through the exhibit with far off sounds of gunfire an eerie experience.

 

After the tunnels we returned to the ship and after packing and dinner, I went to bed shortly after to prepare for my three day trip to Cat Tien National Park.  

I really enjoyed my time "away from it all" in the national park. It was pretty isolated, and we had to take a ferry to get to the main park area. In this place, there was a check-in place, an outside hut restaurant and another concrete one, a conference center with a small museum, and probably enough rooms for about 100 people scattered along a main drag. Each building had six or so rooms, so twelve people in each, with hammocks in the front. The shower was not separated from the bathroom, so all of the water just stayed on the floor until finding the drain in the corner next to the toilet.

 

We did a fair amount of hiking, probably about 25 kilometers all told. The first day we had a couple of hours free after we arrived so we took a walk through the ‘redwood forest’, a different species than redwoods in California but still huge. The trunks fanned out on the bottom so much so that part of the root could be taller than you. We decided to head back to the main place by hopping on the rocks on the river “rapids”, although since it was dry season the river was not deep or scary at all. Walking over the rocks was a lot of fun despite the searing heat.

 

We met up with the entire group and took a forest trek with our Cat Tien guide, Thom. We saw sun bears, who were protected in cages because they are apparently hunted for their bile, as many people believe it has medicinal value. The sun bears were much smaller and cuter than any bear I had seen before, and were playing with each other while we were there. Thom then took us through the jungle, part of which overlapped the trail we had traveled before. He told us some really interesting things about the park, like how the Vietnamese discovered a tree in the jungle that had less flammable leaves and was named something that translated to “friend of Viet Cong” because of that property.

 

After the walk and showering we had dinner at the hut restaurant, which was extremely pleasant and had great food. We got on a night wildlife tour and saw lots of deer, birds, wild pigs, and a couple wildcats. Ironically, the coolest animal we saw was monkeys, and they were hanging around the restaurant one evening trying to steal food.

 

Our second day at Cat Tien National park, we visited the Crocodile Lake. It was five kilometers into the jungle. On the way, we passed the biggest tree in the park, it was probably more than 100 feet circumference, I don’t know, it was huge. Some of the guys in our group (there were 18 of us total—two professors from Germany and their 11 and 13 year old children, one woman, and the rest students) were real monkeys. They climbed vines attached to the trees until they were at least twenty feet above us. When we got to the lake, we were greeted by a boardwalk connecting various huts on the edge of the forest and a beautiful clearing with the lake. Thom didn’t get our hopes up about actually seeing crocodiles because it was starting to get into the heat of the day, but a group of us ended up finding a mother and eight baby crocodiles a little ways from the edge of the lake. They were just barely poking out of the water. One of the guys in our group decided to aggravate the crocodiles and threw mud clumps at the mom, which I definitely didn’t support. But his goal of more fully seeing the crocodile was met; he hit the crocodile once and she responded by flying into the water, jaw open. After this we returned to the main group for lunch.

 

Three women from the main kitchen had taken food on the path to cook a hot lunch for us, and it was delicious, especially since it was made without electricity. They cooked things on a fire with a big black pot. I also tried dragonfruit, which has a hot pink peel, a white inside, and black seeds. The most similar fruit I can compare it to is a kiwi.

 

After lunch a few people decided to take a boat out on the lake, while I decided to sit and enjoy the shade and the view. One unique thing about the national park is the amount of butterflies; I was sitting at the edge of the forest relaxing and I saw hundreds of yellow butterflies moving past me. It was really beautiful and peaceful.

 

We next hiked to a “bat cave” although bats no longer lived in the cave. However, I must say that the previous day a bat flew out of the jungle right over my head, so I knew that bats lived somewhere in the park. The cave was nice and cool, which was a relief from the heat, and went back far enough for complete blackness. After exploring the cave awhile longer we headed back to our rooms, had dinner, played Bananagrams, and went to sleep.

 

On our last day at Cat Tien National Park, we got out of the jungle and instead visited a local indigenous village. We took a boat to get there and the first thing Mai (our incredible tour guide who was with us for the entire trip) pointed out was the "bathroom", which was basically just a shack thing over the river. It made me understand why we couldn't drink the water. We also saw huts with satellite dishes which was pretty bizarre. Most of the residences were made out of concrete though because they were built as a gift by the government to encourage people to stay in the village. We also walked through the rice paddies and cut rice with some local women. It was no leisurely walk though since the rice paddies are mostly areas of muddy wetness so we have to balance on these narrow walkways that arbitrarily connect with other walkways to get across. At one point we were walking just next to a canal about six feet across used for irrigation, and there was some debris stuff in the water that kind of looked solid. Anyway one of the guys in my group said, I'm going this way, and the next thing we knew he was chest deep in dirty water. It was pretty funny.

 

Mai also took us deeper into the village to meet the oldest couple in Vietnam, the man was 104 and the woman was 103. They had no heart monitors, oxygen tanks, or anything else we associate with keeping people alive for that long, they were both just sitting out on the porch watching things go by. The whole time we were in the village a group of kids followed us giggling and pointing, I guess not very many foreigners at all visit the place which is really cool. Mai had us take a picture with them and then rewarded all the kids with ice cream.

 

The village was very hard to take in. It was dusty, hot, and poor, with animals running everywhere and little signs of development. Still, it seemed like people were happy, and the kids acted like kids - one of the girls in my group played tag with them and whenever she would run after them they would scream and scatter. I was really glad we got to see the village of Vietnam, I still can't believe some of the things I saw. There was this one dog who was sick or something and had no fur and was all cut up, in some places you could see his bones. We took a truck back to the park and on the way a peacock scuttled across the road! Its feathers weren’t out but it was still neat.

After the village we returned to the main area for lunch and had a last wonderful meal at the park before heading back to the ship. While en route, Mai told us some stories about herself which were really moving. She said she was one of the “boat people” who escaped Vietnam on a 26 meter boat carrying over 800 people. She was maybe thirteen, and was in charge of her two younger sisters. She explained how escaping Vietnam was plagued with corruption, like people would bribe policemen and the people running the boats so that the boat was way over capacity. Also, the “captain” of the boat got his way free, and the only qualification of the captain was that he was a member of the US Navy. He could’ve been a cook or housekeeper for the Navy and have no idea how to run a boat. Mai said that her captain didn’t even know how to use a compass. Her boat got lost at sea; it was bound for the Philippines or Indonesia but with such an incompetent captain there was no hope. The ship was running out of water so the crew mixed it with diesel fuel so that people would be discouraged to drink it. Mai wryly joked that this was the reason she had such wrinkle-free skin even though she was 52 (she really looked like she was in her thirties). The people on the boat were picked up at first by a US oil tanker, but they did not have enough space for 800 people so they left them. A couple days later, a bigger German ship got the message from the Americans and picked them up, and dropped them off in a refugee camp. Mai said that over fifty people died on the boat, and they were just tossed overboard because no one knew if they were going to be able to provide them a proper burial. From the refugee camp, Mai went to Canada, where she worked hard for years before deciding to move back to Vietnam to work in the tourism industry. She says her children have no interest in Asia or coming back to Vietnam, so she only visits them every couple of years. At one point in her story Mai told us that she had tried to commit suicide seven times in her life… it was an unbelievable story.

 

We got back to the ship around the time everyone else was supposed to be getting on as well, so we bid farewell to Mai and returned to our temporary home on the MV Explorer.