India

October 25, 2009 Sunday

This city, Chennai, India, should be called Papillon City. Can anyone tell me why? Who’s taking French? New Orleans girls?

Last week we passed the half way mark on our voyage. Before I know it, we will be sailing into San Diego! So, I’m trying to be in the moment and take full advantage of being here and paying close attention to everything around me. Right now I’m sitting in the deck 7 Lounge, a large circular room with a dance floor in the center, chairs and cocktail tables all around and large windows ¾ of the way around the perimeter. The bar behind me completes the circle. Outside deckhands in white jump suits are working with hoses and brushes and brooms and mops. One of the guys shook out a t-shirt after wetting it thoroughly with the hose. I thought he was going to put the t-shirt on but no, he only pulled it onto his head and then pulled the neck opening down to his eyes and then he draped the rest of the shirt around his neck and shoulders and tied the sleeves at the back of his head. Voila, a masque or a hood! He put on his hat and his sunglasses and went back to work. It’s very, very hot and humid here so I imagine the shirt serves a couple of purposes: sun protection, air filter and cooling.

There are lots of ships around, some way out past the breakwater, waiting to unload cargo. Nearby are cranes and more cranes and port buildings, offices etc, tired looking with dirty streaks graying their white walls and smudging the blue trim. There’s a large parking lot where we board the buses for our various field trips. Beyond the port is a skyline (nothing very tall) of all kinds of architectural shapes from modern and boxy to ornate brick with domes and stately Victorian structures, all softened here and there by trees.

“India is so filthy.” That’s one of the things I’ve always heard. Clearly Chennai needs a good sweeping and a bath. Yes it’s dirty. Yes there are places where the smells are pretty bad. Traffic is crazy. To expect the Indian immigrant cab drivers in New York to stop honking their horns would be like asking them to cut off their right hand. It’s heart wrenching to see the poor people and to see their shacks and to have a young mother with a baby on her hip beg so she can get something to eat. It’s disgusting to come back to the ship, to take off your shoes and socks and see the black dirt on your skin above the sock line. The heat and humidity are oppressive and the pollution makes it difficult to breathe. But what good would it do for me to expound any further on all that? The thing for me to do is find a way, a small way to make a contribution where I can and to encourage others to do the same. If only we could solve the gargantuan problems of the world! Well guess what? The kids on this ship…so many of them that I’ve talked to…are positive and are not afraid for the future. I ask them that very question: “Are you afraid? There’s so much for your generation to take on!” And they tell me no, they’re not afraid. (OK, cynics, kids can be naïve. We were.) I’ve asked some Indians I’ve met about the caste system and they tell me that it’s illegal now and not what it was in the past. So the clichés come out of the woodwork when I think about some of these huge challenges that face the world and I have to remember that Rome wasn’t built in a day etc., etc. That’s true for world issues and for personal issues. That’s the best I can do for the moment. If we do our own work we’ll be better equipped to do the work of the world.

Stop it, Liz. Enough.

Friday, the day we arrived I went to a reception at a women’s university where they were celebrating United Nations of Students and Travelers – something or other. We could hear the music before we exited the bus and
were greeted at the gates by musicians and dancers. The dancers wore very colorful, ornate costumes and lots of exotic makeup: one was a horse, one a chicken and one a gorgeous peacock with huge tail feathers. Several were on short stilts. They were dancing all around us as we entered the grounds and escorted us to the auditorium. Once inside I found myself sitting next to an American, a nice looking young guy casually dressed. “So, are you a journalist?”, I asked. “No, I’m the Counsel General from the States.”, he replied. “Oh my Lord, I’m sitting next to a dignitary! What shall I call you, sir?” “Oh how about ‘Andy’?” “Not ‘your majesty’or something?” “No, Andy will be fine.” I give thanks to Barney Williams for bestowing on me the gene that allows me to occasionally make people laugh.
Once all the other dignitaries – very serious looking Indian gentlemen dressed in suits and ties or khaki safari outfits, a few in those Indian dresses the men wear – filed in and took their seats in the front row (to my right, ahem) we were treated to an hour of entertainment. Five or six different groups of students gave dance performances to music that ranged from traditional Indian to more modern, even hip-hop kinds of music. At the end the MC announced that now the Americans would perform. What??? This was news to the Americans, but Terrence, a very popular young man saved the day. He happened to have music on a thumb drive with him and, with only a moment’s hesitation, he moved forward, took the stage and started to dance, solo! In a flash and one-by-one other students joined him and then some of the Indian dancers returned to the stage. Of course the place went wild. It was wonderful.

Some of us had another field trip in the afternoon so had to leave during the lull between the dances and the speeches – a major stroke of luck since some of the speeches were interminable we were told later.

A bus took us back to the ship for lunch and another bus then took us to an orphanage. Not the Mother Theresa orphanage – that field trip was full – but another that was, well, indescribably sad and yet full of the joy of all those smiling, laughing, delighted, delightful children. They were SO HAPPY to see us, some running down the drive towards us, grabbing our hands, others waving shyly at us from second floor windows. I chose this trip over the one to the orphanage for disabled children. It seemed that would be a little more than I could take. The kids tugged at us, held our hands, patted us, guided us to come upstairs to see where they sleep: a large room with aluminum trunks and other items on shelves – small stacks of books, rolled up grass mats. There was a single metal bed frame in the middle of the floor with a pillow and light quilt on it – for the…what would you call her, the person who stays with the kids at night? She gets the bed; the kids get to roll out their grass mats. I had so many questions but there was no one who spoke enough English for us to have a conversation.

The little kids all had very short hair – girls and boys alike. The girls all wore matching or similar little cotton dresses and the boys madras plaid shirts – all made by hand…you could see the stitches. The older girls had beautiful long black hair in braids or ponytails and wore saris. They all appeared to be fairly clean – their clothes, their hair but all were bare footed so their feet were grimy. Their skin is dark, one little girl in particular, had very dark skin and a dazzling smile. They vied for attention but I saw no squabbles. Our cameras were their big fascination. They LOVED seeing pictures of themselves and they loved it if you let them take pictures of you. They took us to their little playground. I went on the swing. I played ball with them. A couple of our boys were throwing balls way, way up in the sky, the little kids scrambling to catch them. Such simple fun. There was no pushing or pulling, no fussing amongst them. This I thought was remarkable. They were just kids, in so many ways, the same as kids anywhere. We walked down a lane to visit the older boys …maybe from age 11 to 18. We never saw any infants but the toddlers came to the playground after their naps and were adorable. You look at those huge dark eyes and make up stories about their little lives. At least they were here and were cared for rather than living along the side of the filthy road next to railroad tracks and piles of garbage.

This was an indescribable experience. The faces of several individuals will always remain in my memory, especially Jessica’s – a thirteen year old leader type in her best white sari who was beautiful, bossy, bold as brass. She knew I had her number and we laughed a lot together.

After the orphans performed some songs for us, a bunch of us got up and did the Hokey Pokey and a couple of other songs. Then it was time to board the bus and return to the ship and that was our trip to the orphanage. What can one say? Does one weep? One tries to be grateful.

Yesterday I went to Spencer Plaza., one of the ‘upscale’ shopping plazas. My taxi driver left me at the end of an alley with hundreds of motor scooters parked along the fence. We had agreed that I would pay him 500 rupees when he picked me up and return me to the ship two and a half hours later…that’s less than $10.00 As I walked towards the entrance several dragon flies came fluttering overhead. Aunt Kathy? Carolyn? G’ma Lucy? Saying,” Go ahead, you’ll be able to finish your shopping in this mall. Just keep walking, follow your nose. We’ll lead you to the store.” And they did! I got:________ and __________and__________. Nope, you'll have to wait til Christmas. It was fun sitting in one of the shops chatting with Hamza, a lovely 22 year old young man who, with his sister, inherited the business from their father 6 years ago. This kid’s English was great. He travels to Germany every year on sales trips. He’s originally from Kashmir where he has several workshops where all the embroidery is done by hand! Amazing.

Spencer Plaza reminded me a lot of New York subway stations as they were years ago…all grimy and crowded… but worse. There was an escalator that seemed out of place. Everything just felt grimy and yet is was bustling on a Sunday afternoon. The contrasts here are indescribable. I guess you’ve got to come see for yourselves. You’re shocked at all the terrible cruelties you see and want to scream; and yet, the people are so beautiful and those I’ve met have been so gracious and welcoming. Chennai is the 3rd or 4th largest city in India with 7 million people. That is mind boggling! Our sensibilities say, “Why the hell don’t they clean this place up?” We Americans simply have no idea of what the whole picture is. I’m simply trying to take in as much as I can.

October 27, 2009 Tuesday

Yesterday I ditched a field trip I was supposed to go on and I’m glad I did because reports were that all kinds of things went wrong – mainly transportation things. People were exhausted when they returned to the shop. Good for me. I wrote blog, did some laundry, read my book, took a nap, read my book some more, enjoyed visiting with some of the students and went to bed early. No Chennai and that was a relief.

But today I went on another field trip to an engineering college. It was OK. We listened to some speeches went on little campus tours with Indian students, enjoyed a delicious lunch which we ate with the fingers of our right hands…the food having been served by students who dished it out onto banana leaves the size of large place mats. I have to confess I didn’t love eating with my fingers. It’s sloppy and let’s face it: it seems you can’t really get your hands clean in this city. I am NOT known to be a clean freak, but Chennai, India? I think I’ve had my first regret of this voyage: that I didn’t know to go to Pondicherry (or Karaikal), an old French colonial city not far from here that is reportedly lovely. I certainly don’t want to judge India on the basis of my miniscule introduction to it. The contrasts, the sensory challenges are too numerous to mention. Suffice it to say I’d like to give India another chance and I have no regrets for having missed the trip to the Taj. Reports are that it was a very tough trip.


The ship was so quiet this week with most of the kids and adults off on overnight trips. But the buzz began last night as some of the kids returned and tonight at dinner, the place was jumping. Friends have been made, we all know the routine, the ship is home sweet home, and everyone was happy to be back again with ‘family’. It’s simply wonderful.

I just felt a little tremor ripple through the ship and the light just dimmed. I guess they’ve started the engines and that the pilot is aboard. So off we’ll be going again, headed for Vietnam.

OMG this is all so awesome, like, really awesome, dude! Lol and all that stuff.

October 18, 2009

A little more - October 18, 2009

South Africa - Kruger Safari & Mauritius

So I went to visit a township. On the drive there, we passed miles – yes, miles! – of rows of single garage-sized dwellings made of tin or scrap wood or cinderblocks with corrugated tin roofs that had big stones or cinderblocks on them to hold the roofs down in the wind. Do I exaggerate when I say “miles”? I don’t think so. From one end to the other, a township could easily stretch out three or four miles. Driving past the townships I realized that I had seen them before. They look exactly as they do in news footage, even down to the laundry hanging on fences and the outhouses and the women walking along carrying babies or bundles on their backs, wearing colorful long skirts and mismatched blouses and ‘towels’ (fabric wrapped around their heads turban style). In some places it seemed the shacks went on for as far as the eye could see. It was astounding, especially if the road drew nearer and you could see the scene in more detail. People actually live here! I thought to myself. Thousands of people!

We made several stops in a very large township that afternoon. The first was at a community center about the size of a small classroom where tables full of craft items were displayed. The people were very sweet, welcoming, not pushy. Also, there were marimbas! We heard them before we saw them. Two young men were playing and I was thrilled. They were laughing and showing off, especially the one playing the lead marimba. With barely any encouragement, he went crazy with his virtuosity, playing intricate patterns very rapidly. It was wonderful…such beautiful, joyous music. Second stop was a center that helps women with HIV-AIDS, a major problem in South Africa. We were able to watch women working on looms making rugs and table runners and other items. I had spent all my Rands and the shop wasn’t set up for credit cards so I was disappointed not to be able to buy anything. At another stop we visited Vickie’s B&B, a two story structure that was somewhat larger and more substantial than the shacks. You can Google Vickie’s. We milled around for a while, chatting with some of the people, the students especially enjoying all the little kids that gathered around us. They love having their pictures taken, but what they really love is TAKING pictures. Such magic to see themselves instantly on the screens. Looking around, I noticed that though there was this terrible situation of shanties and outhouses, I didn’t get the impression of filth or of degradation. Maybe it was my rose colored glasses. We had seen sections of new housing – rows of very small cinderblock houses the size of a single car garage with red tile roofs. All had outhouses, however and electricity hadn’t yet been brought in. I wonder how many of our students realized that the little closet in the yard of every house was actually an outhouse and that there IS NO running water in these people’s homes. I wish I knew the details of how this housing is being made available; by the government, I think, but under what circumstances, I don’t know. At least some people are getting out of the tin shacks. The political situation is surely very complicated and far from completely stable. I wish I understood more about it. I wish I knew more about exactly what apartheid meant to the people. I know they suffered terrible cruelties at the hands of the government, the police, the system and that it all goes back centuries. I was talking to our bus driver. He was a Muslim whose people had come from … nuts! CRS sets in and I can’t remember where this guy’s people were from. Anyway he was very nice, telling me about a singing group he belongs to. He played a DVD showing his group (there was a TV on the bus): all men, singing a capella, familiar tunes to which they added their own lyrics. It was neat. They wore costumes and sang for various festivals, parades and celebrations. He asked me how much it cost for a student to go on Semester at Sea and, when I told him, he said most people he knows won’t make that much money in their entire lives.

I can’t help it but there’s a phrase – from the Bible, I believe, “from those to whom much has been given, much is expected”. In general I’m getting the sense that the students on board are, for the most part, great kids, bright, compassionate, understanding and wanting to contribute. I hope they will.

So many people agreed that they would love to spend more time in South Africa. From the little I saw, it is a beautiful country. Our approach to Cape Town was spectacular and thrilling with the sun rising, Table Mountain in the background and the city nestled at the foot of the mountain and curling around the backside of it.
The harbor, the port where we docked is beautiful, clean, modern with restaurants, shops, music, promenades, coffee shops and a big mall. It had the atmosphere of an upscale shopping center in the States. I guess lots of places in the world have that atmosphere these days. It’s so different from when we were in Europe during the early fifties. Everything then was strange and old and so…different! Grandma and Grandpa somehow made it all very exciting for us. Now when you travel, you see the US at every turn, it seems. Well… I exaggerate. But something in me is disappointed when I see attempts to replicate so many of the commercial aspects of the US. Mac Donald’s on the Champs Elysees is nothing short of mortal sin in my book! Git with it, lady! This is the year 2009 and the US isn’t the only modern country in the world! This is just a quirk of old age, I suppose. Something in me wants every place we visit to be somehow quaint and ‘other’.

Our safari at Kruger National Park was wonderful. We had a two hour flight then an hour drive to the hotel … it looked like something in a movie with round buildings and thatched roofs. It was understated and not too fancy, with primitive African design evident in the décor: paintings, fabrics, furniture, lots of basketry. I love that look so felt very much at home. There was a pool but no time to spend in it and there was a golf course which I thought might take away from the atmosphere but it was OK. So we checked in, dropped our things in our rooms and took off for our first drive in the bush! Can you believe it???

Our guide, Doctor, was great. We had a lot of fun with him and he found some good animals for us to photograph: elephants, gorillas, tons of impalas, zebras, giraffes, crocodiles, beautiful birds, wildebeests, water buffalo, cheetahs. It was amazing to have the safari vehicle – what do you call them? – pull off to the side of the road and to peer into the bush and all of a sudden to be able to spot some animal or other…right there! …well, not too far away just munching away on the bushes or grass or tugging at leaves high up in a tree. You should have seen some of the trees that were lying on the ground with greenery still on them. Doctor told us that the elephants just push the trees over so they and their babies can get to the leaves more easily. Also we saw trees with patches of bark scraped off them. The elephants scratch their itches on the tree bark! Oh I almost forgot the rhinos. We didn’t see them until the third day but there were signs of them all over the place. In fact there were signs of all the animals all over the place. It was amazing the amount of ‘signs’ that were there. Anyway back to the rhinos (reenos, as Doctor pronounced it). They are territorial, VERY territorial! They mark their territory with very large piles of doo-doo and then, with their hind legs they spread it all around and create a hole in the ground about as big around as a bicycle tire and as deep as an end table. They do this all around the perimeter of their territory so the other male rhinos won’t come try to take their mates away. If another males tries to take over the territory, there is a huge battle. Doctor said he’s seen a couple of those battles and that they are awesome. Unfortunately, we didn’t have that kind of luck. Isn’t it interesting that you can travel half way around the world to see a hole in the ground and a pile of rhino doo doo? It was a highlight.

I got to sit in the front seat with Doctor after deciding that to climb the ladder to get into the higher viewing seats would create too much of an unsavory spectacle. It was great because we had the opportunity to chat a little. Here are some of the things I learned from Doctor. In the townships there are different tribes, each with its own king (his word), all living together in peace. A man has to pay for a bride with cows. Most men have at least 3 or 4 wives. Doctor has three families but is divorced from his first wife. I asked him if he ever saw the movie. And I asked him if the wives ever had fights and if they babysat for each other and who does the cooking. It seems I never got to hear the answers because we always came up on another animal and he was distracted. At the end I gave Doctor a little tip and told him to take all 3 of his wives out for a nice dinner. It was all fun…lots of laughs.


The lions were a highlight too. Good ole Doctor spotted three of them, lying in the shade watching…
Hold on. First Doctor saw a large group of impalas, which are such beautiful little animals, all standing still as sticks and all looking in the same direction. That was the clue for Doctor. If the impalas were behaving like that, there had to be predators around. (What’s a predator???) And sure enough Doctor found the lions for us to see. They were just lying there watching the impalas, a couple of them got up and had a better look….but they didn’t charge because they saw us. Some of the kids were hoping to witness a kill but it didn’t happen.

The two mornings at we were Kruger we got up at 4:30 in the morning and met at the vehicles at 5 in the most beautiful pre dawn light you could imagine with birds calling loudly back and forth. I don’t do it very often but when I do get up early, I just love the light and the cool air and the sounds. We’d have coffee in the lobby of the lodge and then we’d grab our box breakfasts and take off. The second morning, after driving around and looking at/for animals, we took our breakfast break at a rest stop with a little restaurant and small cabins they rent out for campers. Yes, they did have RV sights, too!!! So we sat down at picnec tables under huge shade trees – umbrella trees, Doctor called them, and there were monkeys scampering around! I was so surprised. They were so close they seemed tame. So tame that all of a sudden one of those little devils jumped onto a table next to ours and stole a container of yoghurt right from in front of a German lady! He climbed just high enough into the tree that we could all watch him smugly eating the lady’s yoghurt! He’d poke his snout into the container, come out with a pink face and lick his lips as he looked around…bold as brass!

Kruger was great. I’d go back for safari in one of the other parks. I’d go back to South Africa! It was a very interesting and beautiful place…the landscape is gorgeous. We saw some RV’s and I’m thinking it would be fun to rent one and drive all over the place. Beaches. Safaris. Duddn’t dat sound like fun, y’all?

October 10, 2009, Saturday

I’m sitting in the deck 6 dining room – the Garden Room. A little while ago whales were spotted but I was too late getting to the window to see them. There’s a scattering of kids sitting around working, computers and books open. The sea is grey; bits of blue poke through high clouds. The big swells that began before we were out of the Cape Town harbor have calmed a bit. The ship still rocks and I still love it. Thank you, God, Whoever You are, for excusing me from seasickness. What a pain that must be!

We’ve been skirting the shore of the Southern tip of Africa and will make a right turn soon and head for Port Louis, Mauritius, a vacation paradise for Europeans. How beautiful the land is with big white breakers crashing on the shore and green fields sloping up towards mountains.

October 11, 2009, Sunday

I’ve just had a little quiet time doing some ohm-ing, some breathing, some writing in my gratitude notebook. Sometimes, I want so badly to jump back into the bed. I have a slight desire to do that right now, but I also have gratitude that I am up and have had a good morning and that I am writing. It was great chatting with Carla and Charlie Tolbert – he’s the astronomy prof. She’s from Holland and is one of 9 children. Always looks great with a slim figure and beautiful understated clothes. See, I told myself, give it time; connections with people will come your way. It’s ok to spend time alone. You’ve needed this r&r, this time to recoup. Sitting here, one leg crossed over the other with my computer on my lap, sitting in this comfortable, supportive chair, looking out at the up and down of the rail against the horizon, looking at the waves and whitecaps and troughs, at the grayish sky, THIS moment of my life is perfect. Thank you God, for giving it to me., for allowing me to learn how to give it to myself.

I was thinking about taking my ‘family’ to dinner up on the pool deck and letting them order whatever they want. I think I’ll do it…yep, that’ll be it. Should be fun.

Off now, for the bridge tour.

There are so many times when I wish I could have a computer chip in my brain so I could more easily record my thoughts and ideas and plans. I just came from the bridge tour. It was little more than a demonstration of how very much we are linked to and dependent on technology. The ship was/is on auto-pilot. There is a ‘black box’ just like on a plane, recording everything from the amount of waste water that’s being processed to the very words that are spoken on the bridge. I suppose I was hoping for something a little more dramatic like in the movies. By the way, we drink and bathe in sea water! They have a desalination plant on the ship. Grey water is treated and released at sea; black water is ...i'm not sure - treated and released in port.

The clouds are breaking up a little. Patches of blue sky are appearing and the ocean is turning from gun metal to navy blue, no, marine blue. It’s so beautiful. The ocean makes me think of blue dotted swiss …that dress Mary had! Dark blue dotted Swiss with white dots. Oh God, Your ocean is so pretty!!!


I have just returned from watching the movie “Milk” in the Union. There was discussion afterwards. Where else but in a community like this could one attend an event like that with so little hassle? It’s one of the many gifts that come with the SAS experience. Otherwise, you’d first have had to notice that the event was taking place, buy a ticket, then you’d have to drive yourself there, find a parking space. Here it’s out your door up a flight of stairs and you’re there. It was good. I remember how surprised and pleased I was to hear in the 70’s that Harvey Milk had been elected to public office in San Francisco and how shocked and sad I was when I heard he had been murdered. Then that Shepherd boy was killed in Wyoming. When I think of all the suffering that has plagued gay people, I am just so sad. Ignorance and bigotry have to go!

October 16,2009, Friday

Today I almost missed my Blue Safari! I thought tomorrow was Friday. But then, Gloria set me straight and I made it to the bus just in time. What is Blue Safari? It’s a trip in a submarine!!!!!!! First you get on a bus at the ship and drive for almost an hour. Then you come to a very nice little beach town, walk through a park and down a small pier and board a small ferry-boat with a canvas on top to block the sun. The ferry takes you out in the lagoon to a bigger boat (about as big as our life boats) which you board; then you transfer (by jumping!) to the submarine. To get in the sub you have to go through a hatch – like in Lost – climb down a ladder and into the cabin which is too low to stand in and you sit down in little seats, each with a round window. It was very small…very cramped. I hate to tell you all that I can’t make an exciting story out of an adventure that wasn’t much of an adventure. Some people on the right side (I was on the left) saw the octopus but I never saw it. We all saw the Japanese ship that had been sunk on purpose to create a fake reef. Coral was starting to grow on it but I could barely tell what was rust and what was coral. Everything looked the same color: brownish grey. We all saw different fish: a few yellow/white striped ones, a few angel fish with bright blue, some groupers, other little fish that were brown or black. I was lucky because I got to see the pineapple worm: it was brown and looked like a pineapple; it was about as big as a cat; all it did was sit there on the reef like a bumpy rock. One very interesting thing was that things changed color as we went deeper. The girl next to me had on a bright pink blouse with gold threads through it and a bright red skirt with a black design woven in it. (she was visiting our ship from India). Well her blouse turned a brownish purple color and her skirt turned just blackish brown. All the white people in the sub turned kind of greenish color even though no one was sick, thank heaven!
So…..who knows why white skin turns greenish when you go deep in the ocean? How deep
Did we go? I knew you’d ask. I have to find out. I’m back. My certificate says we went down 30 feet.

So can you tell that the Blue Safari wasn’t nearly as exotic as it sounds? Don’t get me wrong: it was fun. I think I just expected more colorful fish like on the National Geographic channel. Actually it was a cool thing to do. I need to go find my excited pills.

This evening – October 17, Saturday, we sail for India. INJAH!!!! If only I can get this thing ‘published’ on the blog.

On board agt lastg.

This is for you, ELISE!!!!!! MY FIRST PICTURE BLOGGED JUST FOR YOU. NOW GET OFF MY BACK!!! XXOO

Cape Town

October 2, 2009

There have been two different bugs going around the ship since we left Ghana. Upper body and lower body…I got hit with the latter so have been out of commission for a while.

Now I gotta go get dressed and take myself up to watch the sunrise and the arrival of our pilot who will take us into the port of Cape Town. Don’t feel so good about going there with all its history of apartheid. Why are we so horrid to each other?

October 4, 2009, Sunday

Arrival in CapeTown.

Our first day in Cape Town was very nice. I went on the afternoon City Orientation Tour. We visited the Castle of Hope - not a castle really but a fortress with lovely grounds and soft yellow barracks buildings all surrounded by a wall made of stone and brick. We walked into a dungeon where they kept prisoners sometime in the past. Don’t remember who ‘they’ were nor who ‘the prisoners’ were but it was small and dark and darker still as you descended the stairs. It was a dungeon, for goodness sake! Should I find looking at a dungeon to be a fascinating activity? After the Castle we strolled through a lovely city park/garden with lush trees, plants, flowers, lots of mourning doves cooing in the thick branches and some perky squirrels poking around in the dirt. Lots of blacks in the park – families, sweethearts, picnicking groups. We stopped at a sweet outdoor restaurant for tea and scones – part of the tour. There were no blacks having tea, I noticed. Then we walked to the Museum – I don’t know which one but it had a very nice display of African artifacts including things like pottery, beaded items, a display showing how they made beads from shells and bones ‘in the olden days’, baskets, mud huts with thatched roofs, jewelry, slices of walls from caves with paintings that dated anywhere from 5000 years ago to 450,000 years ago!!!!!! That’s four hundred and fifty thousand years ago!!!! There was a terrific display of a gigantic whale skeleton hanging from the ceiling – not unlike the one in the Natural History Museum in New York and, no doubt, in other museums around the world. I’ll bet there’s a whale carcass in some Chicago museum too. And in LA! These guys were pretty old though I don’t know exactly how old. There’s a picture of me standing between two jawbones of a whale. The bones alone were taller than a full-grown man! Impressive.

Back on the ship I saw Rankin (fellow Life Long Learner) sitting alone at a table in the dining room that was relatively empty. Most people dash off the ship to go on overnight excursions as soon as the port officials give the go sign. So we were talking about my trepidation over going to a township. He told me he had a terribly confusing time in Morocco and in Ghana the first time he came to Africa which was in 1967, I believe, on his first SAS voyage and that he was still confused because in Ghana particularly, so little has changed. Once again he found himself weeping upon seeing all the poverty there.

That night we went by bus to the Arts Center where we had wine and h’or d’oeuvres and a speech by an alumnus of SAS who now manages the Arts Center. Then we attended a performance of HMS Pinafore. In spite of there being a full house that night, the seat next to me remained empty throughout the whole performance. Well, not really empty. The ole Captain of the Pinafore from 1956 Spring Hill College was there, laughing, cursing because he had been far superior to this guy on the stage! Right. It was nostalgic but oh so much fun. They took liberties staging this piece and it was fine. There were good voices, good dancing, a beautiful set and lighting: all in all it was a pleasure that made me laugh. Kathy, you would have…well…I’m not sure. I guess you would have liked it. Yes, you would have. There was a student next to me from the Basque Country of Spain who said he couldn’t understand a single word. I tried to explain a little about G&S to him and assure him that most people didn’t understand either because the actors were either Brits or South Africans and their accents were very difficult to understand.

I felt sorry for some of the kids who barely endured the performance. For me it was pure fun.

October 4, 2009, Sunday

I have just had an experience that brought chill bumps to my arms and tears to my eyes.

I’d put the last stamp on the postcards and walked out to mail them in Tymitz Square (the central place on the ship). A middle aged couple were shaking hands with and saying goodbye to a crew member. I couldn’t help it, I had to ask them, “Are you visitors to the ship?”

“We’re alumni, the Spring 09 Voyage and we’ve just come aboard for a visit.”

I was thrilled to meet them and asked how they’d heard of Semester at Sea etc. and what did they do…are they living in Cape Town? Lavinia and Terry Cranford-Browne: she worked for Archbishop Desmond Tutu. “I was his PA for 25 years and just retired last year. That’s when we decided to go on Semester at Sea.”

“Oh my God, I have goose bumps on my arms!” I

exclaimed.

“And Terry”, Lavinia continued, “is a political activist.” Oh Lord! How could I be so lucky?!

At 11 this morning, Ellie and I left the ship to shop at the waterfront mall. It was a doable walk for the two of us. We both use canes, Ellie having been in a terrible auto accident a number of years ago. Early on in the voyage, once I realized I could probably get away with it, I said to Ellie one day, “We can sing our camp song, Ellie: ‘We are the Jolly Girls from Cripple Camp; and we are brimming full of peppity-epp-epp-epp.’” (I hope I don’t offend anyone with that. If I do, get over it!) She laughed and we’ve become buddies. We walked around the mall which was lovely or grotesque, depending on your point of view about malls. I got a small carryon bag with wheels for my safari later this week; Ellie got some stuff then we sat down and had a “cocoa chiller” which turned out to be a chocolate milk shake; then took a cab back to the ship. The shopping thing is a bit of a problem. I don’t know what the hell to get. However, in the book store I was able to buy some cute postcards shaped like animals for all the grandchildren and for KM, Stacy & CJ and CMR and for my three siblings. Stamps too. We saw some stuff that I liked. I love African arts and crafts…designs etc. and am hoping to pick up a few things for my house wherever that ends up being located. And, of course, I want to get things for each of the kids and grandkids. Afterall, Christmas is coming.

Don’t worry about it, Liz.

Ok, God. I’ll just leave the shopping schtick to You.

So back to Lavinia and Terry. I’ve been vacillating about going to Robben Island and to visit a Township. I don’t want to look at the cell where that poor man, Nelson Mandela and so many other political prisoners sat or the limestone quarry where they worked for…how many years? 20? Nor do I want to go to some ghetto and ogle the poor people who have suffered so much at the hands of colonialists and red/necks from England and the Netherlands or wherever they were from. I felt I simply didn’t have the stomach for it. Ellie and I were going to go to a crafts mall tomorrow to shop. Ditch the township and Robben island ideas. I was so thrilled to meet this couple and told them so and asked if they could spare a few minutes to sit down and talk. Would they like to come to my cabin, just a few steps away? They agreed and after they sat down, noticing and commenting on little things they remembered from their voyage, I said, “I’m so grateful we can talk if only for a little while.” I hesitated but then barged on, ” I have a particular question I’d like to ask you. Can you tell me…can you give me a reason for wanting to visit a township? I haven’t wanted to go. I’m afraid to go.”

“Oh don’t be afraid,” said, Terry. “You’ll be perfectly safe. No harm will come to you. The people are wonderfully friendly.”

“It’s not that I’m afraid I won’t be safe. I’m afraid that I will be so angry about colonialism; and so sad about subjugation and enslavement of human beings. Can you tell me why I shouldn’t feel that way?” By now I was wiping tears from my cheeks …I was so very moved by this opportunity to spend a moment with this woman who had enjoyed years of time working with archbishop Desmond Tutu and of this man who has surely been in the thick of so much political activity and perhaps even had a hand in shaping history in one way or another. It was like being in the presence of saints. Sorry for the drama, but that’s what I was feeling. I don’t like even to use the word ‘hate’ but I do have a big problem with racism and stupid, blind prejudice. Look at the wars and deaths and suffering they have caused human beings! WHY?

Terry began to talk and how I wish I’d had a tape recorder. “The reason for going to visit a township is that the experience will give you hope.”

“Hope?” I asked. What in the world could he mean by that. Looking at people crammed into row after row of ‘houses’, ‘homes’ built of corrugated metal with no electricity, primitive facilities at best is going to give me hope?

By the way, kids of all ages, please, please do some research. Go to Google and type in some of these words: South Africa, apartheid, townships, colonialism. Parents: explain some of this to your children; go to their schools and explain some of it, especially if they are following this voyage in any way. Adapt some of this stuff for the children. We need to teach them gratitude!!! They deserve to learn to be grateful!!!

Lavinia took up where Terry left off, speaking enthusiastically: “You want to go to a township because your visit will be a gift to the people. You will give them an opportunity to know that they have not been forgotten by the rest of the world. They know you will tell the story of your visit to your friends and families and in that way they don’t have to feel abandoned. They will have hope that life can improve for them and their children. You will be able in your own individual way to spread awareness of the conditions in which these people live and in the process, perhaps, help to solve some of the problems even if it’s in the smallest way.

I got it! It was a relief. I was grateful to them and explained how I don’t like to dwell on the fact that we lost Carolyn and Greg but that I do share our story because it may move people to do what they can to support research that will bring about a cure for brain cancer. One day there will be no more brain tumors and no more apartheid…but only if we know about them and are moved to do what we can to stop them.

Idealistic. So what? Being idealistic is a job somebody’s got to do. Why not me? Why not you?

Hi everyone, I'm back on the ship after CapeTown and am determined to catch up on the blogging. Tim in the computer lab helped me find the lost blog entry, so for now scroll down a bit to the entry entitled "Ghana". There'll be more ... check a little later. xxxooo to all