Large Intestine Remiss

Hello faithful readers,

Sorry I've been a bit remiss in updating this past week.  My time spent in Ghana was wonderful but it culminated in one heck of a case of Traveler's Diarrhea.  Hey, it happens.  This is a travel blog, read on ladies and gentlemen.  We're all pretty open on the ship, and at last count, it looked like of 520 students, about 200 were having gastrointestinal issues after Ghana.  So anyway, I've been sick since Wednesday, it's now Tuesday, and so if I'm not significantly better by tomorrow, I'm supposed to start Cipro (an antibiotic) to hopefully kick the e-coli out of its newfound home in my large intestine.  The worst part about being sick though is not the actual being sick, it's the fact that I can't eat anything that is good for me.  I cannot eat fresh fruit or veggies, I cannot eat dairy, I cannot eat anything remotely spicy, and I live on a ship.  That leaves not a whole lot of options.  I have been eating nothing but bread, pasta, rice, and sometimes soup (but only if it's not cream based).  Not exactly ideal.

We've also been in considerably rougher seas since leaving Ghana and that makes reading and writing on the ship harder.  I can't do any reading in my room because I have no porthole, so I have to do it either outside or in one of the dining rooms with big windows, but they are often full of distractions.  So because this voyage is actually school, my concentration time has been spent on school work.  Boo. 

Anyway, I think I am going to be feeling better tomorrow and I also have a good amount of free time, so I will post about Ghana tomorrow.  I will also post about shipboard life a little bit.  I realize you guys don't know much about how I actually spend my time, or what my classes are like.  I look forward to writing a lengthy entry tomorrow.

Until then, treat your intestines nicely...mine will vicariously appreciate it.

Love, Kalista     

First Day in Ghana

I LOVE GHANA.  LOVE LOVE LOVE.

America has a few things to learn from Ghana.  I love it here, and I didn't even go to the "big city" today, I just stayed in the port city.  I barely even did anything and I had an awesome day.  The people here are amazingly nice, they actually care...and they're so laid back.  The music here is not half bad either... and when I say that I mean it's awesome.  Reggae everywhere.  Rita Marley spends half the year in Ghana...um because it's awesome.

That's all for now because I am getting up wicked early tomorrow to go walking in the rainforest...like that's a common thing to say.  :P

Until then... One Love

Kalista 

When it rains in Marrakech...

Finally, my blog post on Morocco has arrived! But first…

A haiku:
Desert sun at first
Souk shelter in flash rainstorm
Dark clouds Marrakech

So, the first day in Morocco, Kirra and I got up early to watch the sunrise and check out the pilot boat as we pull into the port. The port of Casablanca, or where there was enough room for our ship, is seriously industrial. It was so industrial that walking from our dock to the gate of the port into the city was unsafe and we had to take a shuttle bus just to get into the actual city of Casablanca. In Morocco, I chose to do a 4 day, 3 night Semester at Sea trip and so as soon as the ship was cleared (meaning the customs people were satisfied with all of our documentation), we boarded our bus to go to Marrakech. It was about a 2 and ½ hour bus ride to Marrakech from Casablanca but as we were leaving the Casablanca, our tour guide pointed out some interesting sights including the Hassan II mosque, which is astounding. It holds, I think he told us, 55,000 worshipers inside and outside and more than half of the building’s foundation stands in the Atlantic Ocean. The King, Hassan II, who commissioned the project, hired a French architect to design it and the materials used to construct and decorate it are from all over the world. The cost of this world monument? $800,000,000 American Dollars. Almost 1 billion American Dollars. This is insane, and raises at least a couple ethical questions, but we’ll get to that later.

When we got to Marrakech, we were dropped off in the Jama Al-Fna square, which is the biggest open market IN THE WORLD. It was incredible. We had our first Moroccan meal in a wonderful restaurant in the square and after lunch we were let free to explore the souks (“market” fii al Arabia). Then in rolled the darkest most ominous cloud I ever saw in my life. In less than 15 minutes, the sky ripped open, and Marrakech enjoyed it’s first (and probably only) rain this year. To reference the title of this blog post: When it rains in Marrakech… It freaking pours. This experience was one the best of my life. You probably all know how much I LOVE thunderstorms and so the fact that we got to enjoy this unlikely storm in the outskirts of the SAHARA DESERT made me feel incredibly lucky. We were literally running from stall to stall standing under their awnings and still getting drenched. The stall owners offered us garbage bags or anything they could think of to stay dry, but we went without, most probably because they would have charged us a couple Dirhams for it. It was more fun that way too. When we got to the main part of the plaza, we had no choice but run right through the storm to where our bus was waiting for us, and I have never…never gotten so drenched by a rainstorm EVER. It was exhilarating running through that storm with my new friends Liz and Alyse, not to mention one heck of a bonding experience. I have lots of pictures of the aftermath of this, but I can’t figure out a way around the size limitations of picture sending. It was incredible. I still can’t believe it, and just really don’t have any words to describe how awesome it was.

After the rainstorm, we took a steamy bus ride to our hotels where we had time to shower and get dry before being picked up for dinner. Our hotel was really neat and on a pretty cool street in “downtown” Marrakech. For dinner, we went to a place called “Chez Ali,” which can be described as something like Epcot in Disney World, but not nearly as authentic and fun. This place exists for no other reason than to cater to tourists in a way the Moroccans think the tourists want to see Morocco. Interesting and awkward to say the least. There were different groups of people representing each of the 8 “tribes” of Morocco, dressed traditionally and playing traditional music and singing and dancing; but the performers all looked miserable and unenthused. We were to walk past each group as though on some sort of It’s a Small World walking ride and finally sit down at our dinner table where each group then came to us. They just looked so…miserable. I spent the evening trying to keep up a positive attitude about the place and not feel like it was my fault, in a way, that these people were as miserable as they were. We had dinner, which was awesome, and then we were treated to a “horse fantasia” show, which I also have no words for. It was the same thing: a twisted, touristy way to represent a culture. It included traditional Moroccan music, Star Wars music, a flame thrower, a belly dancer, a magic carpet ride, and lots of sick, mistreated looking horses. We went back to the hotel later and got up the next morning to meet our bus at 7 am to go to Zagora and the Sahara.

If it sounds like things were slightly disappointing, it is because they were. I will expand on my actual feelings after I recap what the trip was and what I did. I do want to say here though that even if it sounds like I didn’t have a good time, I really did. My fun in experiencing something awesome was just often punctuated with ethical questions and some culture shock, which I will explain later.

We took an 8-hour bus ride from Marrakech to Zagora where we did our camel trek. This bus ride went right up and over the High Atlas Mountains. Holy Crap, talk about windy and slightly nerve racking. I have pictures of the views from the windows and they are breathtaking, in my case, quite literally. When we got on the bus, our tour guide immediately handed each of us a barf-bag and our SAS trip leader gave us a dose of the free motion sickness meds they give out on the ship. You can imagine, maybe, what the road was like. This is something that I can’t do justice by writing about; you need to see the pictures (I’m working on it.). When we finally got to Zagora, we did our camel trek to our Nomad tents where we spent the night. Riding the camels was fun, I have lots of pictures of that too, and even a video that I took for Julia’s Kindergarten class. And the staying in the Nomad tent was really cool. We saw a wonderful sunset, listened to actual traditional music, and even got to try out some dancing. We had dinner, went on a scorpion hunt with the biology professor on SAS, and went to bed. We did the trek again in the morning, followed by the same wonderful bus ride back to Marrakech. We had more free time in Marrakech that night, which was the best time of the whole trip. Our guide, Jamal, went way above and beyond what his job was, and he set up for us a dinner at his friends’ restaurant. It was in a riad, which is a really neat type of building. He explained that a riad is like the veil. It is designed to keep what is beautiful somewhat hidden to protect from the “evil eye.” This is an Islamic idea, and one that I came to like a lot. I wore a scarf the whole time I was in Morocco, and it was comforting. I understand now a little bit more about the ideology of the veil in Islamic society and it is something that Americans and the rest of the world just don’t identify with. Anyway, the riad is a building that looks like nothing special from the street, but inside there is such beauty! We had dinner in the courtyard, which is open to the sky and is beautifully designed with tile and gardens. After dinner, Jamal took us around the souks at nighttime, which was my favorite part of the whole trip. I might expand on this later, but right now I want to get this blog post up before Ghana tomorrow! Oh! We wrote another haiku while in the desert:

Creepy crawlies crawl
Creepily up the tent wall
Sahara Desert

As for my feelings on Morocco, this is a reflection I wrote for a class, but I think it’s worth putting up here as well. Take from it what you will:
Morocco was the port I was most looking forward to on this voyage because I have both French and Arabic language background, I have cooked many Moroccan dishes, my Arabic professor is from Casablanca, and I wanted to experience what life in a Muslim country is like. I think, in my excitement, I neglected to prepare myself for the poverty I was about to see. I don’t even know if I forgot to prepare myself because I am not even sure if I knew that Morocco had such poverty, I think it was just more naiveté on my part. In Casablanca, I was astounded at the beauty and the magic of the Hassan II Mosque, but when I turned just 180 degrees to look across the street, the poverty was even more astounding. I couldn’t help but wonder about the allocation of such a huge amount of money. I am also disappointed in the Semester at Sea trip I chose to take because it was not even close to what I thought it was going to be. I chose to do the 4-day Camel Trek into the Sahara Desert, and what it actually turned out to be was one day in Marrakech, two days on a bus, and a three hour Camel Trek. I signed up for this particular trip because I thought it would be the trip that would allow me to throw myself into Moroccan culture, experience what life is like, and try out my language skills. None of that happened, though, because the trip was huge (there were 4 buses of Semester at Sea students all doing this trip), the entirety of the trip was spent in horrible touristy areas, and I ended up feeling guilty and embarrassed of my American-ness.
I felt horribly uncomfortable in the Souks while bartering, and the aggressiveness of the shop owners was startling every time. My whole understanding of what “fair-trade” really means is now turned upside down because the concept of a “fair price” just doesn’t exist when there are so many different variables that go into the process of buying something. And the last, biggest issue on my mind is women and women’s rights.
I knew that I was traveling to a Muslim country and that the rights of men and women would be different than what I am used to, but for some reason, I just can’t settle what I experienced. I understand that I am undeniably blessed with a sense of empowerment that growing up female in America allowed me, and I know that different cultures are well, different, but that doesn’t change how haunted I feel. Being told that I should not travel in groups less than three people, one of which should be male, started to rattle my sense of pride in my independence. And this, I understand, is simply for my safety. The seemingly insignificant fact that the size of the step between the roadway and the sidewalk was huge was another reminder that Morocco is a man’s country. When we drove through the Atlas Mountains and saw Berber villages, men and boys sat by the roadside or in shops and cafés relaxing, while the women and girls were collecting food and palms for dinner. In the cities, Marrakech and Casablanca, I never even saw women. Period. They were inside their homes. When I asked my guide about this, he told me that woman rarely leave the house and the only time women socialize with each other is when they go to the public baths. And for the baths, women pay more than men because they stay in there longer!
The biggest issue that I’m having is that I just don’t know how I aught to feel on the subject of women’s rights. I knew, going into this trip, that my rights, Muslim women’s rights, and the rights of women around the world are different; and in no way am I suggesting that the American way is best, but I didn’t get the opportunity to speak with any women on the issue to see what they felt about it. So I am left feeling lost. I suppose this is what is known as “culture shock,” but I don’t want to just chalk up the way I’m feeling to “it’s just culture shock” and never explore my feelings on the issue. This is what Semester at Sea is all about, and I want to learn, learn, learn about myself and about the world.

Crazy stuff. I feel better now after writing that and speaking to my professor about it, and I know that I need to prepare myself better before each port. Hopefully Ghana will be a better experience. I have a pretty wicked cold though right now which is upsetting because…Ghana is tomorrow and I have a whole lot of things planned.

Anyway, the logistical pre-port is starting in a few minutes so I have to go. I’ve not had any cool dreams because of the malaria meds, by the way. Also, about pictures… I cannot get my computer to compress any pictures to smaller than 1000 KB, and in order to send them in an attachment to my blog they have to be smaller than 50KB which is really… just not going to happen. So I’m trying to think of other ways to get you guys some pictures. Also, thanks for your comments and e-mails, they make me feel loved! I hope to hear from you soon.

Until then, be well and I’m sending lots of love.

Kalista

Hola Mi Amigos: Version 2.0

Okay, so I’m back on the ship from my excursion in Morocco, but before I write about Marrakech and Casablanca, I should finish writing about Espania. But even before that, I should talk about home.

I haven’t been homesick this trip while on the ship; but when I’m in ports, I can’t help but think things like “Oh, Erin would love this.” Or, “I wish Dad was here listening to Flamenco guitar with me.” Etc, Etc...you know. It’s an interesting feeling because I know it is natural and I don’t want to suppress it, but I feel conflicted between “letting it out” and just going with the way I feel, or trying not to bring down my mood. It’s also very tough having the sense of empowerment that living in America can give to a woman taken away port after port. In Spain, it is not safe for a woman to travel alone; in Morocco, it is not safe for even groups of women to travel without a male; to even simple, stupid things like how the steps in Morocco are obviously made for men (they’re so tall), to very drastic things like how I have not seen Moroccan women. Period. As in: the women very rarely leave their homes. I guess this is partly culture shock, but I think it’s bigger than that and I haven’t been able to find a personal peace with it yet. I hope I will soon, or at least I will be able to protect my feelings, and learn, learn, learn. I’d also just like to get an e-mail from Mom and Dad. I got one from Erin today and it was wonderful, I also got one from Kirra’s mom and it was nice. Reading the comments on my blog you all are leaving is also wonderful and I thank you. Dad, I read your comment on my latest post last night and cried and laughed and really missed you. I would love to travel back to my favorite places one day with you. I’m glad your guitar lesson was great, practice, practice, practice…you have to play me something awesome at Christmas. Also, sorry to hear about your allergies, having allergies sucks. At least it is only allergies and not what most of us on the ship are suffering from today… let’s just say there is quite a shortage of Imodium on board the MV explorer. And Drew, I’m so glad you’re reading my blog too, and that you wrote me a letter. I think you’re right, I think the mail is very hit or miss in the ports but if it makes you feel more confident, I’ve gotten mail from my classroom back in Oneonta, and Kirra has gotten mail in each port. I think if it’s addressed correctly, it should make it to me. Did you send it to Ghana? Also, did you get my e-mail?

So, Espania! The food is freaking delicious. On the first day in Spain, Kirra and I went on a SAS trip and Faculty Directed Practica called the Churches on Cadiz. We went in a big tour bus with a Spanish guide to various churches and cathedrals in Cadiz. We went to the Old Beach where the James Bond film “Die Another Day” was filmed. I picked up a ton of sea glass on the beach- there was a TON. I guess it’s because so many more glass bottles are used in Spain than in America. Grandma Kathie: I picked up a ton for you, I know you collect it. The pieces are very cool because some of the pieces still look like the neck of the bottle top. George and Kimmy: I am also collecting you sand, don’t worry! I put some pieces in each of your bags of sand. We did a lot of walking this day, all around the old town of Cadiz. I had a snack of manchego cheese and olives and then I went to the Flamenco night with SAS. The flamenco show was really neat. I was lucky because I got to spend time there with Iker, a student on the ship from Spain, and he taught me so much! We got back to the ship around midnight, I bet you guys don’t know this, but that is barely the beginning of the night in Espania. Iker and I went out to find our group of friends out at a club in New Cadiz. We took a city bus and thank goodness I was with Iker because my Spanish is terrible. When we got to the club, everyone was already there and we had some [more] sangria and danced a little bit. After that, we went to the beach and hung around LEGALLY on the beach until about 3 am. Spain’s beach laws are awesome.

The next day, Eric (a SAS student I met in the hostel in Halifax), Gabriel and I hit up the local bus system and bought a ticket to Seville. On the way, we drove past the biggest wind farm I’ve ever seen in my life. I took a ton of pictures, Uncle P. We got into Seville at about 3 pm and set out to find the hostel we called that had open beds. We walked and walked and walked and couldn’t find it, so we attempted to use a pay phone is Spain. Ha. I think I took a picture of this phone, and if I did I will try and post it here because this phone was so complicated, it was hilarious. And by hilarious, I really mean the most god-awful, frustrating, annoying spaceship I’ve ever tried to operate, which by the way, had no Anglais option. We finally were able to connect to an operator, about 3 Euros later who knew just enough English to tell us the number of the building and the plaza it was located in. We eventually made it, and holy moley, was it worth it! This hostel may have been better than the one in Halifax. We met a kid who is from New Zealand, but he worked at the sister hostel of the one we were staying in in Grenada, and we spend the night out on the town with him. We went to the MOST AWESOME tapas resturant that exists ever and then we went to a free local flamenco show. [An insert: I am sitting on the side deck of the ship sunning myself while typing this up and the twin two-year old daughters of my music professor are running around and playing with their dolls and asking everyone out here “what’s your name?” School in this atmosphere is just so…terrible.] For dinner, we had…are you ready for this? I don’t think you are. Sangria, gaspacho (chilled tomato and veggie soup), a Spanish Serrano baguette (Serrano ham, and manchego cheese sandwich on crusty bread), calamari fritos (which literally means fried calamari, but it was NOT that breaded fried stuff you get in Italian restaurants in the states. It was fried in a frying pan in olive oil with no breading, and it was the sweetest, most delicious squid I’ve ever eaten), quiche de bacon y gambas (bacon and prawn quiche…um, amazing), camembert y salsa fresa (this was my favorite of them all: fried cubes of camembert cheese served in a strawberry sauce. This was incredible and I would go back to Spain for this dish alone.), pollo al whiskey (which was a chicken breast sautéed with tons and tons of garlic in a delicious whiskey sauce served with fried potatoes), and the second best of the bunch: papas ali-oli (fried potatoes in garlic aioli, freaking spectacular). By the way, this was a TON of food and we ate just about every last bit of it. After dinner, we went to the free flamenco show, which was wonderful. It was in a local bar that was sort of a barn (barn the only way I can think to describe the building). It was part inside and part outside with a slanted tin roof that had plants hanging on it, there were old flamenco paintings on the walls, and the lighting in the place was just yellow enough to make you feel comfortable. There were about 150 people in there, and only 10 or so travelers. The music was awesome. It was a great comparison to the music I saw the night before which was the same genre, but done two entirely different ways. The night before was a spectacle, it was incredible and very well done, but it was their job. The numbers were highly choreographed and music was highly rehearsed. This night, we saw local musicians in their local venue playing to other locals. The guitar player was a virtuoso to say the least (you’ve got hard work ahead of you, Pops), and the singer…oh the singer. He was probably only in his thirties, but he sung with the expertise and the passion that you would only associate with someone in their 60’s. I don’t know how familiar, dear readers (I’ve always wanted to say that!), you are with flamenco music, but it’s a musical expression of pain and sorrow. The expressions on the musicians and dancers’ faces tell you the story even if you can’t understand the language, and the polyrhythm tells a story of conflict. If you ever get an opportunity to see some live flamenco, do it!

We spent the next day in Seville walking around and touring the city until we got on the train to go back to Cadiz. We wanted to check out different modes of transportation. I liked the train better than the bus. We got into Cadiz pretty late and after going out for some gelato, I hit the sheets on the MV Explorer. The next day was our last day in port and when I woke up in the morning, I hit the town on my own. I had breakfast at a tiny café where I spoke only in Spanish, got my sweet croissant and café con leche and sat outside on the plaza and wrote a postcard home. I felt so Spanish and so proud of my conversational Spanish skills. I walked around Cadiz a little bit more, mailed my postcard, bought some sweet Spanish sandals (because EK, I so totally miss my Birks), went to the beach to go swimming with Iker and a few other people, and made it back to the ship two hours before “on-ship time.” I loved Spain. LOVED IT.

A few words on the internet, pictures, and various other things:
The internet on the ship SUCKS. I only get two hours or 50 MB of data transfer (whichever happens first) for free. Please e-mail me only at klkintzing@semesteratsea.net. Or if you’d like to send me an attachment in an e-mail, send it to klkintzing@gmail.com, but know that I will only answer that e-mail in port. Oh hey, if you leave me comments on my blog, let me know who you are…it makes it a lot more special. Also, do leave me comments and send me e-mails, it is sometimes lonely out here on the deep blue sea.

So, dear readers, soon I will post about Morocco, and then hopefully I will be caught up just in time to dock in Accra. I will be starting malaria meds soon, so I’ll post about any wicked dreams I have. I hope everything back at home is going well. I miss you.

Until next time…LOVE,

Kalista

So these pictures are of me and Gabriel and our tapas in Seville, and of a bunch of us on the beach in Cadiz.

Hola Mi Amigos! version 1.0

Hola mi amigos!

We left Cadiz last night, and today we sat in the Straight of Gibraltar to get re-fueled and we’re back at sea tonight for a Casablanca arrival at 8 am tomorrow morning!

I don’t have time right now to write about Espania because tomorrow (and the next five days) are going to be wicked busy days. I’m going to Marrakech tomorrow, at least one other city the next day, and taking a camel into the Sahara desert, so I need to get some sleep. I promise, though, that stories and pictures are forthcoming. The internet in Morocco may or may not be good, so I might just use up some internet minutes to post a few of the good pictures… I love you guys that much. Feel Glad. :P

Anyway, I’m doing great, things are awesome, and Spain was amazing. In the future, when I’m done paying off Semester at Sea bills (ha), I will return to Spain. It’s sooo good. Café con leche, sweet croissants, Serrano ham, manchego cheese, olives, sangria, tapas… wow. Not to mention beautiful people, beautiful beaches, wonderful traditions and history. I liked Spain a whole lot more than I imagined.

Hey, if you are one of my parents… do me a favor and e-mail me. I haven’t heard from you guys since the day I left America. I know y’all love Maine and all, but hey… I’m your kid. Just kidding, but… really, shoot me a line.

Everyone else, please also e-mail. I’m missing you all.

I’ll be back after Morocco!

Al-Salem Al Lekum.

PS. This picture is of the lobby of our Hostel in Seville looking up to the rooms. Super cool.

SPAIN Tomorrow!

Hey friends and family!

I wanted to put up a little update before we reach Spain in the morning. It’s currently 23 hundred hours out here in the Atlantic Ocean and we will be docking tomorrow morning at 08 hundred hours. I am getting up at 6 so that I can go out to the front deck and watch the pilot boat meet us, watch the sunrise, and watch the first sight of land in 7 days! I am excited for Spain! Tomorrow I am doing two SAS sponsored trips in Cadiz (pronounced “cadeeth,” and Erin, Barcelona IS pronounced “barthelona!!!”). One is a walking tour of the cathedrals in Espania, and the second is an Andalucian Flamenco performace at night. During my free time between those two trips, Kirra and I are planning on checking out Cadiz, and definitely having tapas y sangria, and hopefully some especial jamon sarono. Delicious!

Things on the ship have been fun. Lots of meetings for class, meetings for fun, and meetings for learning. It’s really awesome being here on the ship because learning is everywhere and it’s constant. The question we get most often in class is “what did you learn today?” And we answer. It sounds cheesy, and as if it would never work in a classroom back home (and it probably wouldn’t), but it’s a great way to live here. Right now, I’m watching on our closed circuit television, a performance of flamenco and telling Kirra everything I learned about the flamenco custom, history, instrumentation and rhythm in my Global Music class. Maybe you think I’m lame… I don’t care. Learning is awesome. Semester at Sea is awesome, and I haven’t even been in port yet.

I’m going to keep this one short because tomorrow is a big day, but count on hearing from me soon after we leave Spain. We only have one day of being on the ship before Morocco, so I will try and blog about Spain that day, but otherwise, expect two crazy long posts soon.

I miss you all back home.

Also – a word about pictures: I’m taking TONS! But, with the free e-mail account I use, I can’t send any attachments (and I blog from my e-mail to keep it free). So I will add the pictures that fit into each blog while in port and using an internet café.

PS: Earlier this week, I went on a bridge tour of the ship, which is what it sounds like. We got to go inside the bridge, check out all the gadgets, see the charts, and sit in the captain’s chair! I will post pictures of that as soon as possible as well.

Love, Kalista