Hawaii

Hey everyone. I’m going to write my Hawaii blog and then head up to my penultimate lunch on the ship. Isn’t that weird? I’m on the same time zone as you now. Cool, huh?

Wow, Hawaii seems so long ago now. The first morning I went to the Pearl Harbor museum/memorial, which was good to see. After seeing war museums and memorials all over the world, it’s interesting to see one here at home. I still look at it from an outsiders perspective, and that’s kind of a unique experience.

That afternoon I was going to go to Waikiki beach, but on my way there I ran into some people I knew that were going “Waterfall Hunting.” It was kind of a private tour, but WAY cheaper than what you would expect. So I joined them. It ended up being me, Annie, and Jacky driving around with our very talkative tour guide who brought us to a 3 waterfalls. The first waterfall he pulled up to a path, gave us a map, and said to call him when we got there so he knew we weren’t dead. Hiking up and following the map was a lot of fun. We had to trek through rainforest areas and cross over streams. I loved it! Eventually we got to the waterfall, which was beautiful, and we had an amazing view. The third waterfall was my favorite, though. He parked at a cemetery and then brought us on a hike, pointing out places where LOST was filmed (I took pictures), though rivers, and up hills. Eventually we got to a waterfall with a rock that we could jump off and an area where we could swim. It was a bit chilly, but well worth it. He would only let us do the small jump (9ft?). I wanted to do the big one (25ish ft?) but he wouldn’t let me. Maybe insurance reasons or something, I don’t know. I guess I’ll just have to go back. =-)

The next day I went SCUBA diving. We had two dives in the morning. On the first one we got to explore a sunken ship, which was awesome. And on the second one we just explored the sea life. Saw a GIANT sea turtle. They estimated it at about 500lbs. Can you believe that? I wonder how old he is . . .

After that, Andrew, Kellie, and I headed over to Waikiki Beach where we at yummy food and then rented surfboards. For some reason I thought I would be good at it. My brother and dad can both surf, so maybe I thought it would be genetic or something. The last time I tried was a LONG time ago, so maybe I thought that comparatively I would have to be a lot better now.

Both those assumptions were way wrong.

But I kept trying, and that’s what matters, right?

As this one guy paddled by, I asked him if he had any tips for beginners. “Ya,” he said, “Paddle hard.” So I said I’d try that. He asked if I knew how to stand up, I said no. When I told him it was my first time, he said he would help me catch a wave.

Then he told me to follow him and he paddled over to the area where the bigger waves were. Exactly where the old Hawaiian man who rented us our boards told us not to go because we would get hurt. But I figured that of course that didn’t apply to me, so I followed.

And I was able to stand up a couple times! Granted, Javier was pushing me into the waves, so it definitely wasn’t all me. But I’m still pretty proud of myself.

When my time with the board was up, the paddle in was SOOOOOO LONG!! I thought I was never going to make it. Seriously, my arms were SO DEAD. Is it that hard for everyone that surfs? Or am I just weak? Or maybe part of it is that I pretty much spent the whole time paddling with very few breaks of standing up and surfing in between. But it’s probably just that I’m weak.

Anyways, I eventually got in and turned in my board.

That night we went from Honolulu to Hilo.

In Hilo, a group of girls and I went on a Volcano and Waterfall tour. We wanted to go find the waterfall my dad told me about, but it was just too hard when the free buses weren’t running (it was Sunday) and we weren’t allowed to rent cars. So we ended up going on this tour that brought us to a lot of waterfalls, volcanoes, and a macadamia nut farm. Did you know that 95% of macadamia nut farms in the WORLD are in Hawaii? That’s pretty impressive.

Then that night I went out to dinner.

The next day we spent time at a black sand beach and then just wandering around Hilo. Very low key, very relaxing. It was nice to just be with my friends without worrying about getting to the next thing or being on time to somewhere.

Hawaii was a lot of fun.

Yay!

Okay, lunch. Then packing. Then a “reflections and re-entry” thing where they tell us not to be hurt if nobody cares about our stories. Then the Ambassador Ball dinner. Then hip hop routine. Then Ambassador Ball dance.

Then sleep.

Then wake up to my last full day.

Weird.

I’LL SEE YOU SOON!!!!!!!!

A Picture For You

Here's Hawaii.
=-)

Where's The Statue of Liberty?

Yes, I know that the Statue of Liberty is on the other side of the world, but I still feel like there should be something BIG and GRAND to welcome me back into. . .

AMERICA!

. . . Instead I get a parking lot. That's the view from my window.

But at least it's an American parking lot.

We're in the same country now. Same continent in 10 days.

I love you.

So What?: The Thought Process Behind My Essay

I just sailed around the world. So what. So what? So what?! What do you mean “so what”?! I just freakin’ sailed around the world. So what did I get out of it? So what did I put into it? So what did I take away? So what did I leave? So what did I learn? So what? So what?! How can you ask a question like “so what”?! That’s the extent of the assignment. So what? I’m not supposed to catalog my adventures or experiences. I’m not supposed to write on every country. I’m just supposed to pick one “so what” theme and go with it, touching on two, maybe three ports. So what? 10 pages. Go.
        So here I go. Brainstorming up something that could hopefully carry Dorothy away. Maybe I’ll land in the academic version of Oz and be taken away on some wonderful, essay-ish adventure. Speaking of Oz, did you know that the author of the Oz books came up with the name of Oz because he couldn’t think of anything else and when he looked up from his computer (uhh. . . probably typewriter, actually) there was the O-Z book of the encyclopedia right in front of him. And so Oz was born. I wish that was how all writers block could be solved. I wish I could look up from my computer and see the answer. Let’s give it a try, shall we? What’s the answer to my “So what”?
        Curtains.
        Spill proof tablecloths.
        A stormy gray ocean and clouds that come all the way down to the water that make it so I half expect a Moby Dick scene to take place right outside the window. 
        Are those the answer to my “So what?”
        Doubtful.
        So what is my so what? Does it involve the people? Or the places? Or the food? Or the culture? The way our cultures are different? Or the way they’re so similar?
        I just traveled around the world. I left America exactly three months ago. August 28, 2009. So what? What has changed? Have I changed? Is that what my so what is? The changes? Or is my so what those things that have stayed the same? The universalities of life around the globe. But that can’t be possible when, anthropologically, nothing is universal.
        If I’m not careful, I’m going to end up with 10 pages of blabber without a thesis. Quite possible, considering my tangential tendencies. But I really need to focus. Focus. Focus. Focus.
        It’s hard to focus when I don’t know what I’m focusing on. It’s like standing on top of a mountain, looking over a great landscape, and having someone say, “look closer.” Look closer? At what? At the forests down below or at the birds flying above? At the waterfall to the left or the village to the right? Look closer? Now what kind of instructions are that.
        I guess that’s the beauty of assignments like this. We are all standing on top of that mountain, all encouraged to look closer, and because the instructions are vague, we are granted to look closer at what interests us. To zoologist can look closer at the bear and cubs and the anthropologist can look closer at the baby and child. We have the opportunity to look closer at the specific parts of the landscape that attract us.
        But I suppose picking a direction, a specific place to look, is all well and good for the zoologist or anthropologist. They know what they’re interested in. But what about me? I’m a girl that looks up at the menu board at the Bagelry and can’t make a decision, and now here I stand on my mountaintop, looking at the awe-inspiring landscape artistically created by the culmination of the past three months being expected to pick one part to look closer at. Look closer. So what.
        I think what I need to remember is that by looking closer at one specific part, I’m not disregarding the rest of the view. Realizing that detail and depth can be found wherever I look enhances the view as a whole. I just need to pick a spot.
        Just pick one.
        Just pick one.
        Just. Pick. One.
        Okay, still haven’t picked one.
        I have no idea what I want to talk about. What stuck out to me? What specific places? The Amy Biehl Foundation in South Africa and the Angkor Ruins in Cambodia. Okay. Step one, done. Step two is harder, considering I don’t even know what it is. I guess I’ll just keep processing and then see where I end up.
        I liked the Amy Biehl Foundation both because of where it came from (meaning the reconciliation between the family and murderers, not the murder itself) and for what it stands for now. I like that what Amy Biehl stood for lives on after she has passed. It’s a piece of her left behind, so to speak. I guess I hope that something of me is left behind. That someone will remember me not just as a person but as someone that stood for something. That my legacy will continue long after I do. Not that my legacy has to be one of fame – not that at all. But I would like to hope that by the time I leave this planet, I would have made some sort of dent. Some kind of chink in the armor of worldliness. I hope that I would make a difference. Amy Biehl made that difference. She made a difference both when she was alive – by working against the apartheid – and in her death, by having the foundation set up to support those that killed her.
        I think that my awe for South Africa extends even beyond the Amy Biehl foundation. Actually, I know it does. They are all about moving forward. They recognize the past, want to learn from it, and then want to move forward. The Biehl parents recognized that what happened to their daughter was horrible, they acknowledge that it shouldn’t have happened, but then they moved forward. Instead of being trapped in a dungeon of self-pity or dragged back in time to when they still had their Amy, they moved forward to the next best thing. If they could no longer have their daughter, they would carry on their daughter’s spirit. She would live on. The Truth and Reconciliation Committee had the similar notion of moving forward. They had the option of living in the past, of dragging people down for what had happened to or by them. But they didn’t. Instead they chose to move forward. The Truth and Reconciliation Committee took the first step in the right direction out of a crowd that was running in circles. They took a step towards the future.
        Even now South Africa is continuing to move forward. I think that’s something that I really appreciated about that country. They had so many opportunities to look backwards, to get caught up in what happened there so recently, for the oppressed to stay angry at the former oppressors and so on. But this didn’t happen.

(Going to salsa now. I think I've gotten the ball rolling. Where it will roll to, I have no idea. But at least it's moving now.)

The Holiday Season Begins!

Part of the holiday season just passed. And by “holiday season” I mean Thanksgiving and my birthday. I wrote about my actual birthday in the Japan blog. I wanted to give you guys a quick update on my second birthday and on my Thanksgiving.

The day we left Japan, a group of girlfriends and I all had dinner together. Then the crew sang to me as the brought out a HUGE fruit bowl my friends had ordered me in replacement of a cake since I prefer fruit over sweets. Then the crew sang to me AGAIN as they brought out a huge chocolate cake that my mom ordered for me so that we could have something to celebrate my birthday over. Then a couple minutes later the crew sang a special birthday song as they brought out a special gift from the crew to me for my birthday – banana bread cut like a cake with a non-sugary frosting and a candle. I’ve never seen them do that before, so I was really touched.

So here I was with a huge chocolate cake, a huge bowl of fruit, and a special little banana bread cake from the crew. So I went around the dining room inviting people to come eat cake – and they did! It was a really fun post-birthday night!

Thanksgiving was fun, too. I had dinner with my ship family. At the beginning of the voyage we had to opportunity to be assigned to “ship families.” My family consists of the librarian and the computer guy (they’re married and the about the same age as my parents), then there’s me, Zach, Kim, Vikki, Ansel, and Liz. It’s a pretty fun family. (They don’t hold a candle to my family back home, but I make do). We have family dinner together every once in awhile and family game night occasionally. Anyways, I had my Thanksgiving Dinner with them. Thanksgiving was surprisingly good, too. Not the same as being at home, but they did a pretty good job.

Then after dinner our family challenged another family (my Public Speaking teacher’s family) to a rematch of the Hat Game, which is a game I absolutely love.

So it was a pretty good Thanksgiving. Besides the whole having class thing. And having homework due the next day. But I don’t really think I’m in the position to complain about anything. I’m on a ship bound for Hawaii, for crying out loud. Life is good.

Oh! Plus now that Thanksgiving is over, people can’t reprimand me for listening to Christmas music. It’s legal now!! Hurray!

Love you all!!

Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better: The Theme Song of Japan

Have you ever heard the song “Anything you can do, I can do better”? If Japan could sing a song to America, this would be it. I kid you not, everything that America does, Japan does better.

Fashion? Ha. I don’t think you can even called the clothes we Americans sloppily piece together “fashion” compared to the Japanese. Every single one of them has a perfect outfit. The men are in suits, the women are wearing boots. No sweatshirts. No hair in messy buns. Everything is perfect.

Toilets? Their toilets SING. Literally. In case you don’t want the rest of the bathroom to year you do your business, you can make you toilet play music. You can also make you toilet squirt water (a variety of different versions, too). And the toilet seats are heated. That’s right. Heated.

Speaking of heated seats, the SUBWAYS have heated seats. I guess they’re not really subways. More like metro systems. But still. Heated seats on a metro system? Or you kidding me? No. Not kidding. Very serious, actually. It’s amazing.

Speaking of the metro system: you can get from anywhere to anywhere. And the trains are always, always, always on time. Plus they have the bullet train. I went 180mph on a train! That’s pretty, freakin’ cool.

Vending machines! Oh my gosh, I love their vending machines! You can get any sort of beverage – hot or cold! – and apparently in some parts of Japan there are vending machines that sell everything from coffee to jeans. I didn’t see those, but I was quite happy with my beverage vending machines. I would choose one with a cool wrapper (I generally avoided the English ones) that was either hot or cold, depending on my mood. And they were ALL good! Hurray! I probably spend $20 in those machines. But it was well worth it.

Let’s see. . . what else do the Japanese do better? An easier question might be what else do the Japanese do?

Oh! In America we have dumb menus that might have a picture that kind of resembles the dish, if you’re lucky. In Japan they have plastic versions of ALL the food on display so you can actually see what you’re ordering. None of this wishing-you-got-what-she-got-after-the-meals-are-delivered-and-you-see-what-it-is-you-actually-ordered nonsense. You know what you’re ordering. And the real food actually looks like the plastic food!

Chopsticks. Chopsticks are just always superior to European cutlery, in my opinion.

Oh! And there is absolutely no litter anywhere. Which is weird, since there is also absolutely no trash cans anywhere. I really don’t understand how the two can go together – no trash cans AND no litter – but it works.

And the Japanese are SO QUIET! I could be in a train car with 30 other people and it would be dead silent. I went to the busiest intersection in the WORLD! Every time the “walk” sign flashes, 1,000 people cross the street. In silence. Weirdest thing ever. But pretty cool.

And they’re all so nice!! They have Americans beat again.

That’s all of the Japanese superiority things I can think of right now. . . I’m sure there are more though.

I’m going to briefly go through my Japan experience. It already seems like such a long time ago. Crazy how time flies like that. Lots of it is kind of fuzzy and blurred together, but I’ll do my best.

The first day we arrived in Yokohama. We went through intense immigration procedures (I got finger printed), explored the city a bit, and then I loaded onto the bus for my “Yokohama & Tokyo Extended Trip.”

We went to some REALLY pretty gardens in Yokohama. If you picture the perfect autumn scene, with falling orange leaves and warm colors, and then you add some small bonsai plants, cool Japanese architecture, and flowers the size of my head (literally!) you get this garden. Bryan and I explored it for a while and followed lots of winding trails through thick bamboo. It was lots of fun! Then I participated in a tea ceremony and learned how to hold and turn my cup correctly. Yay!

From there we went to a cemetery and then to a look out point where we could see the harbor (and our ship!). Then people went to a café for warm food (“World’s Best Cheesecake Café”). Bryan and I didn’t want to spend money so we went back to an orange tree that we saw in the cemetery and . . .

Anyways. From there we went to a really tall building with the fastest elevator in the world (it was REALLY fast), then loaded up the bus again for Tokyo.

In Tokyo we checked into our hotel then a group of us went out to dinner. Fun, normal night. Nothing super eventful. Just enjoyed being in Japan.

The next day we went to temples and . . . temples. Probably some other stuff too, but, honestly, all that stuff blurs together after awhile. Don’t get me wrong, they’re beautiful and I enjoy seeing them, but you can only see so many temples in a 3-month period. (Angkor Watt doesn’t count. Those were completely different). 

Then. . .  LUNCH! Sushi! Hurray! Delicious! Wonderful! Free! Okay, not free. But prepaid, so it FELT free. You would expect sushi to be cheaper in Japan, but no. Still expensive. More so than America, even. But it was really, really good. And the trip leaders bought everyone cake to celebrate Bryan & my birthdays, which was really sweet. His birthday was the 21st, mine is the 23rd.

Then we went to Electric City, which was fun. Lots of (duh) electronics. We mostly just explored. We went to a 100 yen store, which is the equivalent of dollar stores in the U.S., where I bought some Christmas decorations for my cabin. We went up escalators that looked like they were in the little tubes that hamsters crawl through. Went to computer stores and took pictures of ourselves on macs and then set the pictures as the backgrounds. Very successful day, if you ask me.

That night we celebrated Bryan’s 21st birthday. A group of people who weren’t on our specific trip but who we knew through SAS met us at the hotel. They had a horror story of a travel experience; their hostel said they couldn’t stay there anymore, took trains in the wrong direction, so on and so forth. Long story short, I offered up my room and ended up with. . . uhh. . . eight of us girls in a small hotel room? We fit surprising well. Plus we were all pretty close to begin with, so it wasn’t really a big deal. Anyways, back to the celebration.

We went out to dinner, which was fun. Then we went to the ICE BAR. There are only a couple of them in the world. You pay to get in, and your cover charge gets you a drink, a parka, gloves, and boots (The clothes you obviously have to give back). The whole bar is made of ice! The walls are ice, the tables are ice, the seats are ice (covered in fur), the actual bar is ice, the cups are ice. It’s so cool! (Pun intended). The bartender was disappointed when I just ordered a pineapple juice. Not much chance for him to show off his awesome bartending skills. He asked if he could add stuff it it, and I said no alcohol. Again, disappointed. But we settled for pineapple juice with strawberry syrup, so he got to do a little mixing and playing with colors and I still got my alcohol-free beverage. Everyone wins.

I’ve decided on this trip that drinking just isn’t for me. I’ve been allowed to this whole time, but it really just has no appeal to me. I’m quite happy to be the babysitter of drunken friends and remember the stories in the morning. Plus I don’t think my personality really needs any alcohol in order to get me onto the dance floor or to make a fool out of myself. I can run into walls on my own, thank you very much.

And I know that there is a middle ground. You don’t have to not drink or get completely trashed. And I have a lot of friends that choose the middle ground. But I (and my wallet) are quite happy with just not drinking.

Now back to the ice bar.

By the end of our time there, we were absolutely freeeeeezing. I couldn’t feel my fingers. We then wandered around Tokyo some more (some people returned, once again, to Family Mart for some cheap liquor), and then we attempted to navigate the metro system home. You should know that a) We weren’t that great at the metro system yet, b) The signs are not in English, c) the metro closes at midnight, d) taxis are ridiculously expensive, and e) our group ranges from sober to pretty far wasted. Surprisingly (actually, not surprisingly, knowing Bryan), Bryan was one of the more sober ones, and it was HIS 21st birthday. Props to him.

Anyways, he were are trying to get home. Like herding sheep. Herding sheep when you don’t even know what direction you should be herding them, and some of them needs to use the bathroom, and another one can’t find her camera, and another one can’t stop laughing. Okay, we ALL can’t stop laughing. I think Colby sliding down the rail and falling is one of my favorite memories of that night. Ironically, he didn’t even drink that much. But Colby is one of these “cool” people. Not necessarily “too cool for school,” but not someone who would do anything silly. Anyways, we’re going down the stairs into the metro and he’s a bit in front of me. He sits down on the rail, slides down, and then somehow his feet fly over his head and he’s on the grown.

Hilarious.

But I’m thinking it might be one of those things you had to be there for.

Anyways, we do eventually make it home. Cram a whole bunch of girls into my room and go to sleep.

In the morning I’m up early to take a train to Mt. Fuji. We have the whole day free, and this is what I’ve decided to do with my day. There are two adults going with me: Pat and a professor. We take the train there only to discover that you can’t see the mountain. It’s completely fogged in. I’m too not disappointed. I didn’t really care that much about the mountain.

I stay with Pat and Professor Milani for two-ish hours when we wander into a festival of sorts. We get separated in it, and when we meet up again they were ready to go back to Tokya. I decide to stay. I hadn’t had a day to myself since New York.

I had a really wonderful day. I stayed at the festival for a while. It turned out to be an agriculture festival, so I got to try a whole bunch of the foods they grow there, which was awesome. That’s where I had lunch, too. I sat next to a nice Japanese old man and watched a butter making contest where kids shook jars full of milk and the first one to make butter won. The man was really sweet, and we tried to communicate. Not to successfully, but we tried.

I explored the festival some more and the palace grounds that it was on. There were some caged monkeys. Bright red faces.

Then into the town. I wandered around for a bit before settling into coffee shop overlooking a small street. I sat and journaled there for a long time.

I wandered around the town some more. After going from the crowded boat to big city to boat to city, it was nice to have a whole town all to myself. I was the only SAS person there. Sometimes it’s nice to have a break.

I stayed until just before dark, then I got back on the train and headed home. In Tokyo I had really, really good dinner from a fast food Japanese restaurant. Totally hit the spot for me. Then walked back to the hotel.

I was in my jammies all ready for bed when Andrew and Bryan called. We ended up watching the Hangover, which was funnier than I expected. Then when it turned midnight they sang me happy birthday.

What a great day.

They next day (my birthday!) kind of blurrs by. I know I got sang to probably about 12 times throughout the day. We explored Tokyo for a bit in the morning. I forget the exact place we went to, but it’s the area with the biggest intersection. Got delicious lunches, and headed home to the hotel. Then we jumped on the 180mph bullet train to go to Kobe. I slept for all 3 hours except for when people woke me up to point out Mt. Fuji. So I DID get to see it! Hurray!

In Kobe, we loaded onto the ship around dinner. Let me tell you that I was dead tired. Like wanted to take the elevator from the second to third floor tired. (But I didn’t).

So I get into my room and my door is crazily decorated with a  HUGE happy birthday sign. And lots of cards are stuck behind my name card. When I go inside, there is a stack of birthday cards on my bed. You guys, thank you so much. I really, really, really, really appreciate it. I was so utterly exhausted, and your cards were just what I needed. Thank you so much.

 So, having read all my wonderful, loving, awesome birthday cards, I’m still super tired and not up to having a huge birthday.

So I had a small, wonderful, perfect birthday dinner. Me and Allie Hart, one of my favorite people in the world, went out to a sushi dinner. Then we bought socks. Then we bought boba tea-ish stuff from Family Mart (I love Family Mart!) and then we went home. It was really perfect.

Oh! And when we came home we stopped by the purser’s desk to pick up packages I got a note on my door about. When my mom said she sent some small gifts, I was picturing small gifts. A cute pencil. A ring. A hair tie.

Nope. I got handed a huge box! So I brought it down to Allie’s room and we had a little birthday celebration. Inside the huge box were lots of little boxes (SAS had put all my packages into one box), so I had lots of little packages to unwrap. It was a lot of fun. Thank you so very much for all the effort that went into that. I really appreciate it!!

So that was my birthday.

The next day I was still dead tired. Allie and I went to the zoo to see pandas, but there weren’t any pandas. That’s okay, though, we saw other animals. Including a squirrel exhibit. And Californian sea lions.

It was crazy seeing the zoo in Japan. That’s one thing that America DEFINITELY does better. They had two HUGE bears in a cage the size of my cabin. Some of the animals looked pretty sick.

. . . But still a fun day at the zoo. =-)

Then we wandered around town, got lunch, sat at a coffee shop for awhile, went to Family Mart one last time, then back to the ship.

Next stop: America.

Thank you!

I just wanted to shoot up a quick post to say

THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

for my birthday wishes/cards/packages/postcards!!!!

I got home from a long, hard day of traveling and was blown away by the thoughtfulness awaiting me. Thanks again. So much.

I really wasn't expecting that. Thankyouthankyouthankyou.

I love you all. Thanks again!!

LOVE YOU! THANK YOU! ARREGATO!!! (Totally not how you spell it, but that's "thank you" in Japanese)

DOMO ARREGATO!!! (thank you very much). . . like the Mr. Roboto song. =-)

Japan Tomorrow

We arrive in Japan early tomorrow morning.

Hurray!

I'm really excited.

I can't believe it's our last country. . . Except for America.

I'm really, really excited.

Goodnight.

What Do Flying, Panda Hats, and Anti-Anxiety Meds Have In Common? CHINA!!

Trying to fit all of my China experience into a single blog post shorter than an encyclopedia is like trying to squeeze China’s population onto the island of Mauritius. But what the heck - let’s give it a try. I’ll break it up into cities, not that this will help much considering the majority of everything happened in one city. But here we go.

HONG KONG
(Warning: Parents may not want to read this one. Talks about my bungy jumping and it’ll probably freak you out.)

Oddly enough, the majority of my time in Hong Kong was not actually spent in Hong Kong. The morning we arrived I caught wind that a group was going bungy jumping, and not just bungy jumping but bungy jumping off the highest commercial bungy jump in the world. I thought I had already missed this chance in South Africa, but apparently I had been mistaken. The South Africa bungy jump was the highest BRIDGE jump. This was the highest jump. Period.

Sign me up.

So I join the group and we head over. We took an hour long boat ride in something called the “Turbo Jet,” which was pretty cool. It’s basically a plane on water, complete with cooshy seats with seatbelts and barf bags. As we approached Macao where the jump was, we could see the building towering over the skyline. Everyone else started talking about how scared they were and lots of people started pounding alcohol to calm the nerves. (How is that a good idea?) I couldn’t relate to the nerves or fear – I just felt excitement.

I kept waiting for the nerves to hit. They didn’t hit when we pulled up to the tower. They didn’t hit when we went up the 61 stories in the elevator. They didn’t hit when I stood at the window looking at the micro-machine world below. They didn’t hit as I signed the waver or got harnessed up. Sitting on the table getting my ankles bound, I was still waiting for them to hit. And as I stood on the edge, all strapped in, hands out, head up, I was still waiting.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1!

They never came.

I leaned forward,

and I flew.

I can’t explain the sensation of the jump. There I was, flying head first towards the ground with a large rubber band tied to my feet, and I felt completely at peace. I was surprised by how long it took. I thought it would be one of those split second, blink and you miss it experiences. But no. I had the chance to think, “Wow. This is really cool. Wow, I’m still going. Wow, I’m going to do superman arms. Oh my gosh, I’m flying. Wow.” I wonder how long it takes to fall 233 meters. . .

So after my jump, I jumped back on the Turbo Jet and headed home to Hong Kong. I was supposed to meet up with some friends at 5:00 to watch the sunset from Victoria Peak and it was almost 7:00. We had known that there was a large chance that I wouldn’t be able to make it and they had known to go without me if I couldn’t make it. But I hoped to catch them at the trolley on the way down from the peak.

So here I was, navigating the streets of Hong Kong, a city that makes New York look like a tiny country town out in Tennessee. Very few people speak English. And I’m by myself.

So somehow I manage to catch a taxi that brings me to the base of the trolley. I wait at the bottom of the trolley for a little bit, hoping that they’ll come down. When they don’t, I decide that I must have already missed them and I’ll just have a night on my own. It would be like my nights in New York. . . except in Hong Kong.

So I have just decided to enjoy the night on my own and head up to the peak when I hear “Lila!” from behind me. I turn around and see three girls from SAS. I end up joining their group, and we have a lovely evening. Sorry, but I’m going to slightly rush through it for the sake of time (yours and mine). Basically, though, the night consisted of a lovely dinner on top of Victoria Peak and then a night market. I’m pretty much all shopped out, though, so I was just a browser.

So that is basically my Hong Kong experience.

There are a couple things I want to throw in about Hong Kong as a city before I move on. Everything is huge – the buildings, the busses (all double-decker), everything! Also, there are a surprisingly large number of Australians. And finally, you can’t just hail a taxi from anywhere. You need to find a place where they all line up; then you get in line and wait. And these places are impossible to find and I swear only the locals know them and they have a secret pact not to tell anyone else. Okay, that’s not true. They’re not that hard to find. But it definitely makes you appreciate the luxury of being able to stick your hand in the air and have a ride immediately arrive at you feet.

Moving on.

BEIJING
We left bright and early the next morning for Beijing. Actually, that’s not true. We left early – the sun was not yet up.

The usual routine: bus, airport, customs, plane, hour delay, fly, yummy non-American plane food, land, customs, bus.

But what’s really cool (haha, literally) is when we land in Beijing IT’S SNOWING! And not only that, but it had already snowed, so everything was white and beautiful.

So we load up in a bus and drive (past the Olympic Birds Nest and ice Cube!!!!!) to the Summer Palace. Let me tell you, there’s a reason the emperor only went there in the summer. It war f-r-e-e-z-i-n-g! Below freezing, actually. So cold that Anna and I were forced to buy silly tourist Panda hats. I named mine Boobie and her’s is Lucy.

This is where my group of four that I hung out with for the remainder of the trip was formed: Anna and I were already close friends, Laurel and I were breakfast buddies, and Eric and I had been wanting to hang out more. Perfect!

So the four of us explore the Summer Palace in the freezing snow. Honestly, I don’t know how we got out of there without frostbite. It was SO COLD. But we made it fun (obviously). For some reason, we were all in a show tunes mood, so we went around singing and laughing. We went on a wild goose chase (which ended up being successful) to buy some hot corn on the cob that we saw people eating. And later we bought roasted sweet potato. Delicious!

Below freezing weather aside, the Summer Palace really was a winter wonderland. Some of the prettiest snow scenes I’ve seen.

From there we went to the hotel and then out to dinner. Dinner was. . . crazy. There was SO MUCH FOOD! (That seems to be a theme on this trip). Okay, so gather up any idea you’ve ever had of Chinese food. Anything you’ve ever seen or ordered in the states. . . and chuck those out the window.

This was all different.

I can’t even describe it, mostly because I don’t know what a lot of it was. But it was . . . weird.

Then we went to Peeking University to meet up with the students who were hosting us. Eric, Anna, and I ended up sitting by Martin. Martin was such a sweetheart. There was one time when he mixed up the words cucumber and concubine. He said his favorite food was chicken with concubines. We tried to keep in the laughter, but there’s only so much you can ask of us. Luckily, he has an awesome sense of humor. We were really lucky for ending up with him.

Anyways, after our little student gathering he took us out onto the Peeking University campus. We said we were hoping to buy some more clothes (long underwear and such) and he said he would take us to the supermarket. We were a little skeptical, since in America supermarket equals food, but we went along with it.

They’re supermarkets are more than food. So we bought long underwear (two pairs) and gloves to keep us warm. Luckily my grandpa had me buy a warm jacket before I left (thanks Poppy!!), but we looked for a jacket for Anna and other things to keep us warm. With our mission accomplished, we continued on with our night by going to Martin’s favorite place to eat.

We bought a lot of food. There were so many different things, that we just wanted to try it all. Again, I have no idea what they were. I know that one was a skewered squid. Basically, we bought about 10 different things on sticks and a bag full of soup. Yes, a bag of soup. We at the sticks on the way home, and we at the soup with chopsticks sitting in the middle of our hotel room.

When I woke up the next morning I realized that the little bit of sickness that I had felt the day prior was now growing into a lot-a-bit of sickness. But who has time to be sick when you’re in China?

I ended up sleeping a LOT that day. As soon as I sat on the bus I was dead asleep. Thank goodness for Anna, my bus buddy, who woke me up when we got somewhere and told me what was going on.

That morning, we went to see how some Chinese art is made. I forget what it’s called . . . something with a “C.” I would look it up, but I don’t really think it’s worth it. Beautiful art, super labor intensive, but not my style.

Moving on.

From there we went to the Ming Tombs. By this time I’m pretty sick, and when I get sick and tired I get kind of out of it. So here I am, wandering around the Ming Tombs talking about how I want to see a white tiger. Needless to say, we didn’t. The tombs didn’t really leave an impression. The forest we had to walk through to get to them, though, is what I picture the scene to look like in Robert Frost’s “The Road Less Traveled.” So that was cool.

Moving on.

To. . .

The Great Wall!!!!!

So by the time we get to the Great Wall, I am really sick. I had a piece of watermelon for breakfast and skipped lunch because my stomach was threatening revolution. Now I don’t know what you’re picturing the Great Wall to be like, but any idea you have of it you can probably chuck out with the American Chinese food.

So we’re sitting in the bus and Anna asks me how I feel. “I feel really, really sick,” I say. Followed by, “let’s go.”

We weren’t just going to see the Great Wall. Oh no. We were going to climb it. And when I say climb, I mean climb. Not leisurely stroll, not hike: CLIMB.

There was a sign near the entrance that said you should not climb if you had “heart or brain disease.” I think this is kind of a catch 22, because nobody in their right mind would attempt what they did. Brain Disease: Can’t climb the Great Wall with it, can’t climb the Great Wall without it.

The leg we were at was a semi-circle, stretching high up a mountain and then coming back up. HIGH up a mountain. And steeply. And covered in snow and ice.

So we begin our ascent.

This is one of the things that I love about countries that aren’t America. Because there are fewer frivolous lawsuits, people really don’t care if you put yourself in situations where there is a large possibility that you could get hurt. There is no freakin’ way that someone would be allowed to make that climb in America in weather conditions like that. They either would have shoveled the stairs or closed it. But, luckily for us, we weren’t in America. We were in China. So we started our way up.

I’m excited to show you the pictures, because I really can’t describe accurately what this looked like. Coming up to the next flight of stairs was like coming up to a brick wall that had been slightly jostled by an earthquake so it leaned at a diagonal with some available food holds. Foot holds covered in ice. Okay, maybe not quite that steep, but pretty close.

So we go up. Slowly. Climbing. Me stopping occasionally to catch my breath or to give my vengeful stomach a chance to calm down. And then we are in the midst of an international snowball fight.

There are forts every so often, and Sean and Iker have taken hold of one and they are hurling snowballs at a group of Chinese kids who are returning the favor. Suddenly some French tourists join in. Iker was shouting and calling everyone Mongols one second and then fighting against the French for Basque freedom the next.

I don’t know exactly who was on whose side, but I know at one point it was Iker (the Basque Country) and Sean (South Africa) vs. us (Americans), some French tourists, and some Chinese students. My friend said, “Wow. When in history have the French, Chinese, and Americans ever been on the same side in a war” and it cracked me up.

So the snowball fight was amazing. And a nice break from our climb.

Eventually, I have no idea how, but eventually we made it to the top. But then we had to start back down.

It was SO STEEP! Oh my gosh. There were sections that you couldn’t see the bottom step unless you were on the top step. A foot back and wouldn’t be able to see it. And it was so slippery! But SO MUCH FUN!

So we eventually make it to the bottom, and I buy a t-shirt to prove I climbed the wall. Then back on the bus.

And back to sleep.

I wake up at dinner where I have a little rice. Then bus and sleep. When I wake up again when we’re at the University for out get together with the students.

By this point I feel like I can barely stand up, much less socialize and be active. BUT, here’s the kicker, because of the tv show “So You Think You Can Dance” all the Chinese students hold the stereotype that Americans are fabulous dancers. So they request that we teach them to dance.

We knew this request ahead of time, and Olivia and I had planned to perform and teach Thriller (we both knew it from Halloween). The leaders ask if I’m up to it – by this point everyone knows that I’m sick. I feel like I just want to curl up in a hole somewhere and sleep, but I can’t let Olivia perform Thriller by herself. That’s just silly. And I can’t let down to University students.

So I perform Thriller. Luckily Olivia took the lead with teaching it, but I was there to demonstrate as she instructed. The we played some games. I didn’t want to be a party-poop, so I participated to the best of my ability. The games that I wanted to get out on I wasn’t able to get out on, which was frustrating. In games where you have to form groups of certain numbers of people and the odd man out loses I would try and be the odd man out, but I kept getting pulled into groups. But it all worked out.

Eventually the night was over. Everyone else was going out to (their second) dinner or to the bars, but I was exhausted, so I went home. After making a video of how many layers I was wearing (it’s a pretty hilarious video. You should see it.) I went to sleep.

Then I went to sleep. When I woke up there were some pills on my bedside table. Anna had told me that she had some medicine I could take: Pepto-Bismol and something else. There on my table were two Pepto-Bismol and two of something else. Grateful to Anna for giving them to Laurel to leave for me, I popped my pills and went on with getting ready for my day. Getting ready slowly. Still sick.

When Laurel woke up, I thought I would double check about the pills.

Me: Hey, those pills on the table were for me right?
Laurel: What?
Me: The four pills that were on the corner there. Anna gave them to you, right?
Laurel (with concerned expression): No, Lila.
Me: Oh. Well I took them. What were they?
Laurel: That was Pepto-Bismol and my anti-anxiety medication.

Then I start cracking up. I figured there’s nothing I could do it about it no, so why worry. Plus it wasn’t enough to do any harm.

So on top of the tiredness and haze of being sick and exhausted, I was also drugged up on anti-anxiety medication. Double dosage, too, since she was making up for having forgotten to take it the previous day.

After breakfast (I had a piece of watermelon) I got on the bus and fell asleep. I woke up at Tiananmen Square. You know the picture with the guy standing in front of the tanks? This is where that happened. The weird thing, though, is that there is absolutely no acknowledgement of what happened there. No plaque, monument, or anything else. It’s the things like that that remind you you’re not in America anymore. If the government wants to pretend something never happened, they totally can. Not that you wouldn’t be able to in America, but it would be a lot harder.

Anyways, the Square, like the rest of Beijing, was absolutely freezing so we didn’t spend a lot of time outside. We ended up going into some building . . the People’s Hall? Great People’s Hall? Hall of Great People? I really don’t know. Most of what I remembering from this day is pretty hazy and greatly aided by my photos. Anyways, in whatever hall it was I found a comfy chair and (you guessed it) slept.

Then we went back out into the cold. We were going to wander around a bit more, but I didn’t feel up to it so we wandered back to our meeting spot a bit early. The meeting spot was near the entrance of the Forbidden City where lots of tourists were taking pictures. There was one group of old Asians. Some sort of club. I stood in one of their pictures. . . I hope they’re as amused as I was. =-)

Once the group had gathered, we walked to lunch which was through the gates leading to the Forbidden City. It was a much longer walk then I expected. I fell asleep with my head on the table at the restaurant.

Realizing that I had turned into a narcoleptic, I said that I wanted to go home to the hotel and the trip leaders agreed that it would probably be a good idea. They had been continuously presenting me with that option for days, but I had been refusing because I don’t like missing out on things. But if I couldn’t even stay awake at a restaurant . . .

So the tour guide brought the group to get all checked into the Forbidden City and I waited at the restaurant for her to come back for me and stick me in a cab. Sitting in the cooshy chair at the restaurant, I fought to stay awake, even though sleep was the only escape from the extreme discomfort my insides were putting me though.

Then I decided: you know what? Enough is enough. I’m not going to feel this horrible anymore.

I got up, marched (well, okay, dragged) myself to the bathroom, and squatted by the toilet. I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say that I vomited more then than I have accumulatively in at least the past seven years.

And then I felt better. Not well, but definitely better.

When I came out, the tour guide was there ready to present me with a dilemma: taxis were hard to get from where we were. It would be an equal distance walking to one whether I walked back through Tiananmen Square of through the Forbidden City. Obviously I opted for the Forbidden City. Me? Pass on the chance to see something forbidden? Never.

So I start walking though the Forbidden City, and I decide maybe I won’t go home after all. Maybe I can hold out for the acrobatics show.

I pray that God will lead me back to my group, and he does. After wandering around for myself, a random person asks if I want to see their art gallery. Except it’s not really a request, more of a demand. So I follow them in, see a beautiful drawing of the Great Wall in the snow, meet the artist, haggle the price down (a lot!!!), buy the drawing, get it signed, walk outside . . . and there are Anna, Eric, and Laurel! Hurray!

Obviously they’re surprised and confused to see me. I would be too, since I was supposed to be on my way back to the hotel. But we’re happy to have the group back together, and we continue walking through the absolutely freezing Forbidden City. That is, until we find a cafe where we can go in and sit in the warmth . . . along with the 20 other SAS kids that had the same idea. Everyone was really sweet and concerned about me. They offered me the seat furthest from the breezy door and asked if there was anything they could do. It was a really wonderful group of kids.

We stayed there until just minutes before we were supposed to be at our meeting point. When everyone finally met up, I was exhausted again and asked to be put in a cab home. The tour guide put me in a cab and told them where to go.

Finally, on my way back to the hotel. I tried to stay awake in the cab, and somehow I managed, but let me tell you: it was a battle.

But then the cab driver’s phone rang and he pulled over. He got out of the car, hailed another cab, and was gesturing for me to get out of his cab and into the one behind him. I’m exhausted and have no idea what’s going on. My world is still hazy. So I get out, try to pay him (he refuses), and climb in the cab behind me.

So here I am in the middle of Beijing (which is 42 times the size of Hong Kong) with no idea where I am or where I’m going. I don’t speak a word of Chinese and my driver doesn’t speak a word of English. My old driver is long gone. My mind is fuzzy.

Then I remember I have my key card from the hotel. I take it out and see it says something Chinese on it. I show it to here in hopes that it’ll mean something, and apparently it does because she looks at it and starts driving. Thank goodness.

After driving for awhile, she looks at me as though looking for instructions of directions. I still have no idea where I am. She doesn’t know where I’m going.

Huh.

Then, in a moment of brilliance, I remember a piece of paper that’s in my backpack. It’s a piece of paper that they gave us at the beginning for if we ever get separated from the group. In Chinese it says, “Please take me to _____________” with a list of all the places (restaurants, museums, palaces, etc.) that we were going to, including the hotel! Complete with building numbers and directions! Hurray!

So, praise the Lord, I arrive safely back at the hotel. Somehow I make it into my room and into the bath to thaw out. . . where I fall asleep.

You know that moment half way between awake and asleep where you’re awake but your eyes are still closed? That was a weird moment for me, including the thought “Why am I all wet??” Then I realized what had happened and that I probably shouldn’t be in the bathtub.

Out of the tub, into bed, and asleep by 5:30.

I slept soundly until when my roommate got home. Good thing she (accidently) woke me up, because I ended up vomiting some more. Then back to sleep.

Like most other people on most other mornings, the first thing I had to do when I woke up the next morning was go to the bathroom. The problem, though, was out our toilet wasn’t working.

But I really had to go to the bathroom.

In a stroke of sleepy, sick, hazy genius, I decide to go to find another bathroom. So I wander around the hall hotel in my pjs with my fly away, bed-head braids in search of a bathroom. None in my hall. Maybe by the elevator.

None by the elevator.

This is going to be a problem.

Since I’m by the elevator, though, I might as well go to Anna’s room. She’ll let me use her bathroom. So I go up 3 stories to Anna’s room and knock on the door. Anna doesn’t answer. It’s not Anna’s room. Luckily for me, it’s another SAS kid, but not one that I’ve ever had a full conversation with.

But I really have to go to the bathroom. So I mumble sleepily, “Hi. You’re not Anna, but I have to go to the bathroom. Can I use you bathroom?” They’re confused but say yes, thank goodness. So I use their bathroom and head back to my room.

At my room, my key card doesn’t work. I try again. No go. Again and again I try, and again and again the light flashes red instead of green. No worries, Laurel will let me in.

I knock. Laurel doesn’t answer. It’s not Laurel’s room. This is not where I live. Luckily for me, it’s Eric that answers – the only other person besides Anna and Laurel that know which room I’m in. So I mumble sleepily, “Hi. I know this sounds weird, but do you know where I live?” He’s confused, but he directs me to my room. Three floors up, but in the same spot. My room was 312 and I was at 112.

So I make my way back to my room to find a worried Laurel waiting for me. When we finally get down to breakfast, everyone has heard about my early morning hall wandering. Wonderful.

Now that I started to wake up I begin to feel much better. I actually ate something besides watermelon for the first time in days (toast) and I can kind of carry on a conversation. After breakfast, we head of to the Temple of Heaven. Let me tell you, Heaven is not all it’s cracked up to be. In fact, the biting cold of heaven made hell seem a bit more appealing. Beautiful? Yes. A place where I’d want to spend eternity? Heck no.

As we were exiting the temple and heading towards the bus, we passed through a type of fair thing. In one area there was an older man singing karaoke into a microphone and a whole bunch of older Chinese people dancing. Not being one to ever miss out on the chance to dance, I joined in. True, I wasn’t invited, but I don’t think they minded. Actually, I’m sure they didn’t, because they all started cheering and wanting to dance with me. Don’t worry, this is on video.

So after dancing with everyone for a little bit, we continued walking. Then near the bus there was another group of people dancing, except they were waltzing. I love waltzing! Some SAS girls were waltzing with each other and asked if I wanted to cut in. “No thanks. I want a guy,” I said, and I walked into the crowd of waltzing Asians, found a nice old Chinese man, and waltzed with him for a bit.

It was really fun.

Then to the airport, on the plane, and into Shanghai.

I realize that my Beijing experience might sound kind of miserable from a reader’s perspective what with the below freezing temperatures and sickness and all, but that wasn’t my impression at all. I actually LOVED it. Beijing isn’t my favorite city, but I would definitely say I had a positive experience there.

I relate it to the story my mom tells me of when we went to Disney Land when I was little. I was sick and would throw up periodically, but I didn’t let that get in the way of enjoying Disney Land. In Beijing I was a sick narcoleptic and would throw up of fall asleep occasionally, but that didn’t make me enjoy the city any less. Just a different experience.

SHANGHAI
First of all, when we arrived back on the boat in Shanghai I had a pile of mail waiting for me. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. Everything that had been delivered to Hong Kong (we left before it was distributed) or Shanghai was waiting for me on my pillow when I walked through the door. Thanks so much!!!!!!

Secondly, I LOVE Shanghai. If you’ve talked to me in the past two days (which, duh, you haven’t because we can’t talk) you know I love Shanghai. My far the coolest place I’ve ever been in my life. India was alive, Cambodia was majestic, and Shanghai was straight up cool. Have you ever seen The Jetsons? That’s what Shanghai looks like! I’m not even exaggerating. I had no idea somewhere like this actually existed. Every building looks like . . . something out of the Jetsons! I don’t know any other way to describe it. Like they could blast off for another galaxy at any moment. Like there should be flying cars whipping in between the skyscrapers. Like the people exiting the doors shouldn’t be people at all but little green martians. It’s SO COOL.

And besides the buildings, there are so many colors. Here’s what I absolutely love, maybe as much as the buildings: no black umbrellas. Pink! Orange! Floral! Blue! Green! All the umbrellas are colored and happy. Same with the ponchos all the motorbike riders wear. No black! Nothing boring or conservative. Also, there are no gender lines between who can carry or wear what color. A man can have a pink, floral umbrella and nobody thinks anything of it. I love that!!

So the next morning Anna and I decide to go out to explore Shanghai. We have no plans and no idea what to expect. It turned out to be an excursion of almost’s for us. Stopping at the hospitality desk on the way out to learn about what we should do. The man there plans out a nice day for us: go to the town square where the museum and urban planning center is, walk down a street with shops, go to The Bund, go through the tourist tunnel, eat in a certain area, etc. So we have the worker write down stuff in Chinese for the taxi driver (nobody in Shanghai speaks English), and then we head out into the pouring rain. We hail a cab, show them the piece of paper, and eventually we are dropped at the town square. We circle the whole museum before finding the entrance led up to by a long line. We stand in line for awhile before an old man brings a museum worker over and points at us. She asks, “Where is your tour group?” “Uhh . . . we don’t have one,” we say. “You’re in the wrong line.”

Here are Anna and I, two white girls in a line of maybe 100 Asians. It’s not surprising that someone noticed we didn’t belong, but did that guy really have to go and tattle on us? Anyways, after finding the real line we decide that it’s too long and we don’t want to wait, so we decide to go to the urban planning center. Apparently they have a mini replica of the city, which would be cool.

But here’s the problem: the urban planning center is on the other side of the street. In any other city this wouldn’t be a problem, but in Shanghai it’s a whole ordeal. Here they don’t have crosswalks, they have pedestrian under and overpasses. The underpasses are impossible to find because you can’t just see them from far away because they’re (duh) underground. And it’s not like we can read the signs labeling where they are because they’re all in Chinese.

So we wander around looking for an underpass and instead stumble into an underground mall. In the mall is the most amazing photobooth-thing you have ever done, seen, or heard of. We decided we had to do it. We initially thought it would be just like a normal photo booth: go in, take 4 pictures, it prints them out, leave. Nope. Go in, pay, be ushered into a green room, Chinese writing on screen, pick backgrounds in very limited time, take a million pictures, pick 6 to keep in a very limited time, use a computer pen to “bedazzle them with Asian” (our words, not theirs. “Asian” is now a noun), pick 4 to keep in a very limited time, print. . . and repeat. The repeat was not a necessary step, but we couldn’t resist.

We wander through the mall and pop up on the other side of the street. Hurray! Then we find the urban planning center . . . it’s closed on Mondays.

We hail a cab and show them the paper that asks him to take us to the Bund. It supposedly has a really nice view of the skyline. We get to the Bund and it’s under construction. So we wander around looking for food. There is no food anywhere. Eventually we wander into an exchange place where Anna can’t exchange money because she doesn’t have her passport on her, but I strike up a conversation with some travelers from Australia. They tell us where we can get food. The food they direct us too is supposedly the best spicy food ever (or something), but I’m not up for spicy food since I haven’t eaten more than toast, watermelon, and plain rice for the past couple days. But we wander in that direction anyways, hoping to come across some other type of food, and we do eventually.

The restaurant menu is only in Chinese and nobody speaks English. There are very few pictures. We’re at a loss for what to do when – ta-da! – the person at the front whips out an English menu. Yay! So we’re able to order, eat, and move on with our day.

Our plan is to find the tourist tunnel. It’s supposedly a tunnel/tourist attraction that . . . well, we don’t really know what it does or is. So we start walking towards where we think it might be. Then we wonder if we really want to go across the river especially when it’s foggy so there’s no point in going up the tall towers and it will only make our taxi ride home more expensive. Luckily we were on the same page. Basically we were both wet, tired, and just wanted a jammy day.

So we jump in a taxi, go home, strip down to our long underwear and have a jammy day.

That night we waited like kids waiting for their dad to get home from work for Brittany and Allie to get home from their trips. We jumped on them the second they came in the door to the ship.

That night we went out for dinner, which was good. And the next morning (today) we went out to a convenience store and spend the last of our Chinese money of weird Chinese food, drinks, and chapstick. The lady there tried to convince me that I needed whitening cream. Ha. Ya right.

We boarded the ship around 10:00 this morning, and we pulled out early this afternoon.

Another country down. One more and then back to America.

Love you all. Thanks again for the mail!!!

Ready, Set, Jump!

I did the highest bungee jump in the world today.
And I'm flying to Beijing tomorrow.
Life is good.

=-)

Is This The Dollar Tree? Or A Country? : Vietnam

Maybe it’s because I didn’t spend very much time in Vietnam, or because I didn’t see very much of it, or because half the time that I was in Vietnam I was in my funk previously mentioned in the other blog, but I have to admit that it wasn’t my favorite port. It was great! And I enjoyed it! But it just wasn’t my favorite.

Coming into port was a really cool experience, though. Ho Chi Minh city where we were docked isn’t on the ocean coast. Rather, our giant ship had to navigate up the Mekong Delta in order to get there. And when I say “navigate,” I actually mean navigate. There were LOTS of other boats and ships and paddleboats and anything else that you can think of sharing that space with us. I thought that since we were biggest we would have the right away, but it turned out that a) we WEREN’T the biggest and b) we DIDN’T have the right away. On the right and left we could see the lush forests of Vietnam. Made me appreciate the cleverness and immense tragedy of Agent Orange when I saw what the troops were up against, and that wasn’t my any means the thickest parts of the jungle.

So eventually we get into port, the ship is cleared (that means all our passports have been checked and we’re allowed to get off), and I head off to the War Remnants Museum for my history class. I would have gone anyways.

I’ve been to the Holocaust Museum in D.C., and even though I was there 6 years ago, I remember it pretty well. I thought that was intense.

There’s a reason why the War Remnants Museum used to be called The Museum of American Atrocities. Even just thinking about what I saw there makes my head spin and my stomach churn. You walk in through a bunch of American planes and tanks and other large vehicles of war on your way into the building. Inside the building are old weapons. The weapons are . . .  cruel. Vicious. Guns are guns. To me they all look the same and they’re all just as bad. But in addition to guns there were weapons like “nail bombs” which explode and shoot shrapnel everywhere. The goal is not to kill but to injure. To mutilate.

That was a big theme of the Vietnam war: Weapons with the purpose of injury as opposed to death. The Vietnamese used booby traps that had the same goal. Instead of trying to kill the American soldiers, they would try and demoralize and detain them. If a soldier was killed, the other soldiers would be able to move on. If a soldier was wounded, however, the whole group has to stop to help him. They have to stay in one place as sitting ducks as they do the best they can to patch them up. They have to slow down as they carry him. It’s a clever, wicked, cruel, and effective tactic.

But back to the museum. In addition to the metal delivers of death and destruction, there were pictures. The pictures were . . . intense. I’ve never seen anything like that, and that includes the Holocaust Museum.

(If you don’t want to hear details, stop reading now. Seriously. Scroll down to where I say it’s okay to start reading again.)

There were pictures of dead children piled up on each other. There was a picture of a whole family with the caption that said, “They had the gun to the family, and I told them wait. I snapped the picture and as I tuned away, I heard gun shots.” There were decapitated bodies. There were bodies charred and incinerated by explosions. Bodies that were hardly identifiable by bodies, mostly just pieces of skin barely pieced together.

At least at the Holocaust Museum I could comfort myself by saying that we stopped it. That we were fighting it.

Here we were the bad guys.

(Start reading again.)

But there was one section that gave me comfort. It was a wall dedicated to those who refused to follow the directions that resulted in horrible massacres, unfair killings, refusing to carpet bomb, and other people whose moral codes somehow enabled them to continue thinking straight amidst chaos, mayhem, and murder.

I can’t imagine being in that position.

That wall reinforced my hope in mankind. It’s possible. Despite what Professor Farkas (my terrorism teacher) tries to convince me of everyday, some people have a goodness and sense of right and wrong impenetrable by victimization or tragedy. We butt heads a lot, my professor and me. He may have a whole, multi-storied museum supporting his opinion, but that little wall is all I need to cling to mine.

After the museum, Anna and I went out and explored Ho Chi Minh City. We shopped and at delicious food. It was a pleasant night. The city was fun and enjoyable.

The next morning I left for Cambodia.

The last day in Vietnam I went to a culinary school where I learned to make chicken pho, dumplings, and spring rolls. The spring rolls were probably my favorite thing to make, but it was all fun! I love cooking!!

The class was large, but luckily I go to a freakin’ huge school and I’ve learned a special tactic for large classes: if you stay near the front, all the people behind you don’t matter. You forget they’re there and it becomes (in your mind at least) a small class. So I applied that tactic to this cooking class, and it totally worked. So, in my mind, I got basically a private cooking lesson from one of the top chefs in Ho Chi Minh City.

That afternoon I hung out with my friend Kalista and we explored the city a little bit. We had one of those “When In Rome” moments and got massages. It was my first massage. Enjoyable and relaxing, but it’s not something that I think I’ll pay for again. (If YOU want to buy me one, though, that’s perfectly okay with me). Luckily mine was only $15 for 1.5 hours.

So that was my Vietnam experience. Aside from my particular experiences and what I did, let me tell you a little about Vietnam. The traffic is CRAZY! Different from India traffic, but still crazy. And all mopeds here. Also, everything costs a dollar. They love American dollars, and everything is only a dollar.

I don’t really think Vietnam is for me. Or at least not Ho Chi Minh City. Everything everyone did was very . . . pampering. Shopping, massages, shopping, manicures, shopping, pedicures, shopping, body wraps, shopping, exfoliating stuff, and – only if there’s time – maybe some shopping.

I’ll say this though: I love the food.

I think I need to go North. That might be a better fit for me.

Step Onto My Elephant: Cambodia

There has been some confusion over what exactly the Cambodia trip was . . . and what exactly Cambodia is, so I’m here to straighten a couple things out.

Cambodia is a country west of Vietnam where some of the fighting in the Vietnam War took place. More relevant to my adventures there, though, it is home to the ancient Angkor ruins, which I will talk more about soon.

My trip to Cambodia took up my Vietnam time. Instead of spending 5 days here in Vietnam, I left on the second day, flew to Cambodia, stayed two nights at an (amazing!) hotel, and flew back to Vietnam on the third day. Just so you know, this blog only addresses the Angkor/Cambodia experience. The Vietnam goodies will be addressed later. Okay? Okay.

So here we go.

Travel with me . . .

                     . . . to Cambodia.

The trip starts on 50 minute plane ride over. You know the peanuts we get served on the U.S. flights? Ha! Forget that! We were served delicious sandwiches even though there was barely enough time to pass them out, eat them, and dispose of the trash. We were off to a good start.

I’m going to fast-forward a bit because I want to get to the good, important stuff. So here’s part of my Cambodia trip on hyper speed:

After flying over a freakin’ huge lake that we couldn’t really figure out if it’s a lake or something else (it was a lake) we land at an airport that looks like a Disney Land attraction. The buildings are small-ish with pointy roofs. I’m not very good at describing it, but this is the fast forward section, so I’m not going to stress too much about it. From there we took a bus to our hotel. Oh. My. Gosh. Nicest hotel I’ve ever seen, much less stayed at. Big, comfy beds; bathroom the size of my cabin; beautiful view; slippers and bathrobes. The works. So we drop off our stuff and then head down to the dining room for food. At the buffet I fill my plate then I go around the corner to sit down – only to realize I had only helped myself to a PORTION of the buffet and there was actually practically a whole other room full of food! Wow! So, obviously, I get some more food. Delicious – absolutely delicious.

Then we head out in a bus to the temples.

Do you remember how my South Africa blog was less what actually happened and more my thoughts on it? I’m going to transfer over to that. But I just realized that in order to do that and for you to realize the spiritual significance of the Angkor ruins to me, you need the background of my funk.

I don’t know why, but for a couple days leading up to Vietnam and even while I was IN Vietnam on the first day (which I’ll write about later), I was in a bit of a funk. I would move through the motions of the day without emotional investment, I was tired all the time, not very talkative, and mostly just wanted to sleep. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me, either, which was especially troubling. I’m a good problem solver. When there’s a problem, I can solve it. Or at least having a problem gives me something to work on. But I didn’t have a problem to that could be solved; I didn’t have any reason at all for being down. For some reason unbeknownst to me I had morphed from Tigger to Eyore, are I couldn’t change back. Kind of like (and forgive me for the analogy) when Jacob from Twilight morphed into a werewolf and then couldn’t morph back because he was so angry. . . or something like that, I don’t really remember.

Point being, I was in a funk and I couldn’t get out of it. So I decided to just accept it and wait it out.

I went into the Cambodia trip with that mentality. I don’t know how I could have ended up with a group of people that I didn’t know after all living on the same boat for three months, but that’s what happened. When we boarded the bus for the airport (at 0530. Ahh!) I noticed that I didn’t really know anybody. On top of that, I didn’t have the particular desire to meet anybody. I was fine with not having anyone on the trip; my funk left me a little anti-social. I decided that Cambodia would be my own personal adventure, and I asked God to be my travel buddy. I didn’t need or particularly want anybody else.

So at the airport when three other SAS kids run in late just before we board the plane. They had overslept, missed the bus, and caught a taxi to the airport. One of the girls personifies the USD stereotype, which I’m guessing means a lot more to me than it does to you. Let me put it this way: When I introduce myself, I say, “I’m from California but not San Diego.” On this boat, the USD stereotype is not particularly flattering. Anyways, here she was. She overslept and almost missed the flight but still found time to do hair and makeup before making her way to the airport.

But it didn’t matter that she and other people still drunk or hung over from the previous night were there, because I was traveling on my own. Maybe not physically on my own – I would have to share a bus with them – but this was my own adventure.

At least that’s what I thought.

And then at the hotel we got our room assignments. Guess who I was roomed with?

Yep. USD.

Great.

But I had already given control of this trip over to God, so I figured that if this is what he wanted (for some reason that I really didn’t understand), I would go along with it.

Much to my surprise, it ended up not being a problem at all. We actually got along quite well. I wouldn’t describe us as “friends,” but we are definitely compatible roommates, which is more than I expected. So even just in that interaction God pointed out how judgmental I had been.

(Wow, and now I’m putting my flaws up online for the world to see. Sometimes I forget that this is public . . . Oh well. I think the world would be a much better place if everyone stopped trying to pretend they were perfect. So there you are: Lila is flawed. Judgmental at times. Human. Shocker.)

I love it when God points out where I can live better for Him.

But back to the story. This is where I catch up to the story I had already started.

On the bus to the temples.

Driving on the bus, I’m absolutely blown away by the scenery outside. Picture lush, green beauty. Trees, bushes, grass. Everything was so green. It’s not where the “good cheese comes from happy cows, happy cows come from California” cows live. This is green grass interrupted by green trees obstructed by green bushes overgrown with green who knows what. The physical embodiment of the word “lush.” Beautiful.

So there I am, sitting by myself because I’m anti-social, looking out the window looking at the beautiful, green growth.

Then we pull into the first temple. Angkor is an ancient city, and Angkor Wat is just one of the temples within the city. Granted, Angkor Wat is a pretty big (500 acre) temple, but it’s still just one temple. We were at a different temple: Ta Prohm. Ta Prohm is the only one of the Angkor temples that has not been cleared of forestry and the plants that have grown over the temples. I didn’t really think much of that fact as we walked into the forest towards the temple, cicadas screeching in the background.

The trees impressed me. They reminded me of the trees in Spain that I couldn’t walk by without climbing. Except these trees were unclimbable (probably even for you, Stuart). The first branch started maybe 60 feet up where the tree exploded into a firework of greenery. Before I thought I wanted a Spanish tree to be planted in my honor if I died, but now I might be switching. These trees were incredible.

But then I saw the temple.

The intricately detailed temples were now falling apart. Trees grew on top of and in between them. The guide explained that the trees growing in and among the temples contributed to holding them together.

God couldn’t have whipped me out of my funk any faster.

Here were temples that, although may have looked more magnificent in their time, I thought could have looked no more beautiful. And it wasn’t the temples in and of themselves that were beautiful; it was the trees combined with the temples that produced such a heart-stopping scene. 

Here were temples that had been forgotten for hundreds of years. They had slowly been crumbling and breaking away. Their brokenness was not due to a bomb being dropped or some major event that caused their destruction. Their brokenness was the result of the simple wearing and weathering of time. It was a part of nature. Nothing lasts forever.

But in their brokenness, the trees came in. The trees brought life to structures that had been vacant and forgotten. The trees brought strength to weakness. They strong embrace of the roots held together what was crumbling apart. The massive trunks gave the temples a sturdy support to lean on. Because the temples were broken, they could be enhanced by the strength and wholeness of the trees.

I’m guessing you can see where I’m going with this.

I am those temples. I was broken, not for any particular reason. I was just tired and worn down. On top of that, I was frustrated with myself for being tired and worn down. I felt like it was wrong to be broken; like I should have been able to hold myself together. Like, since nothing bad actually happened, I wasn’t justified in my feelings and I was somehow failing by not having logical emotions.

But that’s not the case. The temples showed me that it’s okay to get worn down. It’s a part of nature. Being tired or broken does not mean I’m failing, and on top of that, it makes way for something greater than myself to come it.

God functions as my trees. When I am falling apart, His roots wrap me in a strong embrace to hold me together. His trunk gives me something to prop myself up on. He brings life to my vacancy and strength to my weakness.

And it is because I am weak that He is able to show His power and love. If the temples were able to hold themselves together, they wouldn’t need the trees. If I hadn’t been broken, I wouldn’t need God to hold me together.

And on top of that, the tree roots braided into the stones of the temple showed me how beautiful brokenness can be. I think our society (and I’m a perfect example of this) is scared of being broken. We always feel like we have to act like we are fine. Like we can hold our temple together ourselves.

But it’s okay to be broken.

It’s okay to need someone else to support you sometimes. It’s okay to reach out and depend on God or people in your life.

We shouldn’t be so scared of being weak, because only when we are weak do we give the great forces in our life the opportunity to show their magnificent power. And I think that power is beautiful.

So, like I said, that whipped me out of my funk pretty quickly. Suddenly I was a transformed person; back to being Tigger. Not that there’s anything wrong with being Eyore every once in awhile, but for me Tigger is a more natural state. And I was back.

The world was lighter, the people were nicer, and everything was even more enjoyable.

From Ta Prohm we went to Angkor Wat, which you may have seen in pictures. It was . . . huge. Surrounded by a moat and absolutely magnificent. No spiritual awakening here, but still incredible. We (yes, this was no longer a solo adventure for me) had fun exploring the temple. I really don’t know what else to say except that it was truly magnificent.

Then we went back to dinner with a culture show of dancing. This is the type of dancing with the girls whose fingers bend way back. Weird.

The next morning we’re up and at Angkor Wat before the sun poked its head out. And when it finally did poke its head out. . . wow. Incredible.

Sunrise at Angkor Wat. If you ever have the chance to see it, don’t miss it. We watched it from the reflecting pool, which reflected the entirety of the main structure along with the clouds painted a pinkish orange by the rising sun. It looked exactly like a watercolor that you would skip buying because it didn’t look realistic.

After sunrise we returned to the hotel for a huge buffet breakfast, and then we headed back out to visit more temples. We saw six different temples before lunch, each one (in my opinion) drastically different from each other. The first had lots of faces that faded into the rest of the temple. The second had. . .

. . . elephants! Live ones! Which I rode! Hurray!

And by “rode” I mean I rode them, fed them, hugged them, and played with them. Check that off the list of things to do in life.

To get onto the elephant you had to climb up these stairs spiraling up a tree to you get to a platform maybe twelve feet up. Then the elephant “pulls up” to the platform. There’s a guide on it sitting behind the ears of the elephant and a bench like thing behind the guide. Standing on the platform, I watched as the elephant and guide positioned themselves so we could climb onto the bench.

“Step onto my elephant.”

The words of the guide are going to stick with me for a very, very long time. When or where else will someone say that to me? I actually started laughing when he said it. And then I stepped on. I placed my foot firmly on the elephant’s back and pushed myself off the platform. Fully standing on the elephant, I turned and sat down. The ride was way more jerky than I imagined it would be. It was practically an ab workout just to keep myself steady. Forward, backward, forward, backward.

We circled one of the coolest temples. I’m excited to show you pictures. When the elephant deposited us back at the tree lined stairs, we climbed off, purchased a bushel of bananas for a dollar, and fed them all to the elephants. By the end, I was covered in elephant slobber. . . Or at least I hope it was slobber. I would much rather be covered in slobber than snot. It came from the trunk, but he was sticking his trunk in his mouth, so it really could be anybody’s guess. . . I’m sticking with slobber.

A couple more temples and then luch. By then a lot of people were “templed out.” Mainly the same group that was still drunk/hung over the previous morning. So instead of returning to the temples in the afternoon, they went back to the hotel for drinks, massages, and pool time. Our smaller group returned to the temples.

I love those temples.

Now with a smaller group, all of whom really wanted to be there, the temples were even MORE fun. The first one we could climb to the top of, where we imitated statues of lions and such that had long sense crumbled away. The next one we (very respectfully) took pictures on top of the 1,000 year-old elephant statues. I have to take credit for being the one to figure out a way to climb on them. =-) Then we went to one that was surrounded by swamp overgrowth, which was really cool. And the next was one in the middle of this big body of water that we had to walk on propped up planks only a bit wider by 2x4’s to get out to. And finally there was one more that had some of the same elements of the first one overgrown with trees, but this one wasn’t as green and didn’t have nearly as many. It was definitely a different feel. Less magical and more . . . fun, I guess is the word. But maybe that’s just because we were all in a silly picture mood.

And that was it for the temples. We went back to the hotel, hit the buffet line (oh my gosh! So good!) and then headed out to the night market. The market was fun: shops and such. Nothing that unusual or worth going into detail about, especially since I have more still to talk about.

In the morning we headed out to Tonle Sap Lake where we boarded a small boat to take us to see the lake village. Obviously I immediately notice that the top of the boat was really flat and looked like exactly where I wanted to be. Within minutes of the boat pushing off from the dock, that’s exactly where I was.

It was literally a floating village. Like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Schools, markets, houses. . .  all floating! There was some bushes and greenery, but there definitely wasn’t any land. And they weren’t like the house boats you see in the US. Floating shacks might be a more accurate term. And everyone was moving from place to place in smaller, more adaptable boats, some filled with food or fish or other goods.

It was so cool!

I can’t wait to show you pictures!

Then we went back to the hotel, got checked out, and headed home.

      . . . uhh, by home I mean the ship. 

I love Cambodia.

Oh Ya. . .

I forgot the purpose of that last blog entry. I wanted to say:

THANK YOU FOR MY MAIL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I felt so loved. I'll write back soon!

Good Morning Vietnam!!!

Morning everyone!

It's 5:05 here.

I'm off to Cambodia.

Love you.

Cute No More: Halloween!!!

My roommate can’t keep a secret. She knows that, I know that, and pretty much everyone else knows that. I, on the other hand, am an excellent secret keeper. We’re a good roommate match because she can blab to me and then it doesn’t go any further.

So the day before Halloween, she comes into our room and goes, “I found something out and it’s a secret, but I have to tell you.” I say, “Kellie, if it’s a secret don’t tell me.” Hey, I tired, but there’s no stopping her. “I have to tell someone,” she says. So I let her talk.

“So, apparently tonight at exactly 10:15 the lights in the Union are going to go out and then the LLCs are going to perform Thriller.”

What you don’t know: The Union is the room where we were having our Halloween Dance. The LLCs are the Living, Learning Coordinators who are basically our RAs.

What she doesn’t know: For the past couple weeks I’ve been on the student dance team that has been practicing Thriller to perform at exactly 10:15 in the Union that night.

“Woah, seriously? The LLCs are performing? That’s so cool,” I say.

=-)

All day I was dressed up as Super Sunshine Girl, a costume that consisted of a yellow cape hair tires, and a mask all constructed from the same t-shirt. I was pretty proud of myself.

That night for the dance I changed into a zombie costume. For Halloween I’ve always been something that’s either cute, pretty, or funny. I’ve NEVER been something gross or scary. Let me tell you . . . IT’S SO MUCH FUN!!!

First of all, I looked awesome. I died a white t-shirt with tea bags so that it looked dirty and gross (hard to make something look dirty when you’re in the middle of the ocean and have no access to dirt). Then I cut it up to make it look raggedy, which was a LOT of fun. I absolutely love altering clothes like that. Then I smeared a (*cough* stolen from the kitchen *cough*) pomegranate on the shirt to add some blood. Then the make up was SO much fun. Basically just smear it all over. And my hair. . .  already looked like zombie hair. Didn’t really have to do anything to it, which is kind of disconcerting, but whatever.

So getting ready was way fun.

And then the dance was even more fun as a scary thing because I didn’t have to worry about staying cute, my outfit getting dirty, walking in uncomfortable shoes, making sure I stayed covered up, etc. I could jump around and get sweaty worry free. No concerns about my costume staying cute or intact, because it was already neither cute nor intact.

Then at exactly 10:15 the floor was cleared for the costume contest, but then there was an electrical difficulty and the lights went out. And I took position. The lights came on and we awoke from the dead. The room exploded into applause.

I had forgotten how much I love performing.

More dancing and celebration, then off to bed. On days like today when I’m pulling into Vietnam (if I jumped off the boat right now,  I could swim to shore in less than 3 minutes) it’s fun to think of everyone we know being in school. No offense. But having school Halloween – a Saturday! – and knowing that you need to wake up the next morning – a Sunday! – for school is less than favorable.

But I still say the trade off is worth it. Like I said, I can see Vietnam out my window. I could reach it with a balloon launcher.

So here I am, going up the Mekong Delta. Ready for another adventure. And some Pho.








I’m excited for mail to be delivered. =-)

Dancing, Flowers, And Rickshaws: Welcome To India

So today I signed onto Bear Facts to check when my registration is for Cal classes, thinking that it might be in the upcoming weeks . . . it started yesterday! Ahhh!

So now I need to figure out what classes I want, what classes are available, AND register within the next couple hours. Thank goodness my timing is ahead, or else I would have missed it.

Problem: I don’t have internet. So now I’m in line at the computer lounge with the other kids waiting to get free internet so we can register for classes. So I figured, since I have my computer and I’m just killing time, this might be a pretty good time to work on my blog.

So here it goes. Because I’m a dummy and didn’t write all along the way, this is probably going to be a pretty long entry.

India.

DAY ONE: Upon getting into India, Bryan, Allie, Anna, and I headed out to find some food. Bryan and Allie had to be back soon for a SAS trip, so we were slightly crunched for time. One goal: food. Simple enough, right?

Wrong.

After walking through the industrial port, we came out to a throng of rickshaw drivers. Luckily for us, there was someone that spoke English that ushered us into the rickshaw of a supposedly good and honest driver. Rickshaws are not like any other vehicle I’ve ever seen or ridden in. You know those orange plastic cars with the yellow roofs that you play in as a kid? (Or at least if you’re in my generation, you played in them.) The kind that you use your feet to pull you along when you’re little and you get stuck in when you’re bigger but still convinced that you can fit? Ya, they look like those. Except a slightly larger version. Three wheels, no doors, bright orange, and made for a driver and two other people . . . but you can fit a lot more. The four of us piled into one of these and we were off.

Now let me describe Indian traffic. I have to describe it in terms of video games because I don’t know of anything else that really compares. Think Mario Cart + Crazy Taxi + HORNS. Lots and lots of horns. So we go ripping down the street in this tiny little rickshaw until the driver pulls over. He walks around to the back of the three wheeled golf cart, pulls out a India Tour Book, and proceeds to show us all the places where he can bring us for only a little bit more money. It took awhile for us to convince him that we just wanted food; we didn’t want to go his friends’ stores, we didn’t want to go to temples, we just wanted food.

So we eventually get dropped off in Georgetown Market, which was our original goal. But we don’t see any food. We barely see signs of a market. Somehow I become our group’s designated ask-for-directions person, and after wandering for a bit (following lots of points, having people write stuff down, showing other people what someone else wrote down, being confused by their head bobbling – what the heck does that mean?!?! – and walking up and down a street looking for the street we were on) we made it to somewhere with food. And it’s not even that we were looking for a particular food place. We just wanted somewhere, anywhere, with food.

So we got to this restaurant that looks promising, but when we go for a table we are immediately shuffled upstairs. And then into a side room. We figured they were just trying to shove the foreigners away or something. . . Anyways, we have absolutely no idea what to order and the menu is no help. I don’t recognize anything on it – and I love Indian food! We try to communicate that we just want anything. The waiter (owner?) asks us a question and we try to answer. Then he just shakes his head and walks away.

We sit patiently, hoping that food will magically appear, and somehow it does! Hurray! The food is wonderful, and I love eating with my hands, so that makes it even better. I expected to it be super spicy, but it totally wasn’t. Granted, they probably dulled it down for us, but it was still surprisingly doable.

From there Bryan and Anna departed by rickshaw for their SAS trip, and Anna and I were left to conquer India. I had heard of some good shopping place. . . somewhere with a T. That’s all I knew. So we jumped in a rickshaw and tried to communicate: shopping, something with a T. It was a long shot, but that’s all we had and we didn’t really care where we ended up anyways. The driver at first seemed clueless, but then seemed like he had an idea of what was going on. And after we stopped for gas and directions, he was almost confident. So we rode in the rickshaw. . . and we rode. . . and we rode. After a 15ish minute rickshaw ride, he lets us off and we explore, and within minutes we find the store my teach had mentioned! We were in the right place! But that was the expensive store she had mentioned. . . there was a cheap one somewhere. Something with an “N” in it, so we continue wandering. And we find it! Hurray.

We wanted to buy some Indian clothing, so we wander into store after store – but they all only sell fabric! We can’t find any premade clothes! You either have to get them tailored or make them yourselves. Granted, there are some places with already made clothes, but for the most part, it’s all fabric.

Eventually we wander into a store that seems promising. We follow signs down to the basement, and they send us back upstairs, and they send us upstairs, and they send us upstairs, and again, and again. We end up way up on the 6th floor or something of this store and FINALLY we find clothes. Yay! So after shopping for a bit, we are ready to make our purchases.

Easier said than done.

Some took our clothes and we were ushered over to a place where they added up the prices. Then we were given a piece of paper we had to walk (a couple feet) to get stapled and stamped with something. Then we went to someone else (again, a couple feet away) to pay. He stamped the receipt again and ripped off the piece just stapled to it. Then we went somewhere ELSE to pick up our clothes, and we had to give them the stamped receipt to show we had paid (event though it all happened within view) and they stapled something else and stamped again. Wow. Finally, receipts and purchases in hand, we descended back to ground floor and headed out again.

We spend the rest of the day looking and shopping. Not a lot of purchasing, though. Eventually we headed home, which in and of itself was an ordeal. But we made it!

I got back JUST in time to jump on the bus to go to the Welcome Reception. The reception was held by a local college and there was dancing, food, henna, and local students. I met some really cool people, learned how to tie a sari, and had a lot of fun!!

(I’m up on the computers! Going to go figure out my life. Be back later. . . hopefully.)

(Okay, I’m not in our logistical pre-port. Turns out the time difference makes it really, really hard for me to register for my classes. Frustrating. I don’t know how that’s going to work out. . . Thank goodness that I know God is taking care of me – that gives me peace. Or at least more peace then I would have if I didn’t know God.)

Okay. . . I could spend more time on the Welcome Reception, but for the sake of time I’m just going to move on.

DAY TWO: I woke up and boarded the bus to go to the 100th Voyage Celebration: Youth Leadership Through Global Education & Travel. It was amazing! There were probably about ten performances of young teenagers, and each performance was better than the one before. And that’s even with the first one being really, really good! Seriously, I was blown away! Traditional, Bollywood-ish, singing, different traditional, and so many more! Those kids were awesome! And so talented! I comforted myself and my inability by saying that it was part of their “culture” and THAT’S why they were so good. . . but then they did their rendition “Western” dance. It was better than anything I could ever hope to do and a lot of the performances I have seen in the states. How embarrassing.

But it gets worse.

After these AMAZING performances, the announcer says, “Now we will have a performance from our American students.” There’s a murmur through the crowd as we all turn to each other saying “Who’s performing? Are we supposed to do something? What’s going on?” Then it became clear – we had nothing planned, and we were supposed to.

Frick.

Let me set the scene: We’re in a huge auditorium full of over a hundred of Chennai’s most important people. We’ve just seen a crew of amazing kids perform. We’re sitting there in the front couple rows having no idea what to do.

And then Terrance stands up. I won’t go into detail, but let me just tell you that Terrance is EXACTLY the type of person you want to stand up in this situation. (Small world, he’s actually friends with my cousin Brendan.)

So he stands up and goes slowly up on stage. He has no idea what he’s going to do, but we trust him. He disappears back stage and then comes out. Cupid Shuffle turns on.

Someone doing the Cupid Shuffle by themselves is like trying to do a sea-saw by yourself. Kind of pathetic.

I couldn’t let that happen.

I run up on stage.

And we dance.

Then more people join, and eventually there’s maybe 20 of us up there on stage all doing the Cupid Shuffle (oh, for those of you who don’t know, the Cupid Shuffle is kind of like a line dance that everyone in my generation knows. . . uhhh, except it’s cool).

Oh, that was picture in the paper #1: Me dancing on stage.

From there, I had to leave a little early to go back to the ship so I could make it onto my Child Labor visit. But on my way out, I was pulled into a picture with the dancers.

Picture in the paper #2: Me with the dancers.

Then when I got back to the boat, I was walking from the bus to the ship and got pulled into an interview by a tv news crew. They asked me about my experiences on the boat, how it compared to my home institution, what I thought of India so far, and other questions.

So that was tv appearance #1.

For the Child Labor visit we drove out to an organization called RIDE, which stands for Rural Institute for Developing Education. This organization is REALLY cool. It’s a bridge educational program for kids who were child laborers or still are child laborers to make the transfer into school easier.

That afternoon we went to the school, and there were a LOT of kids. What’s absolutely crazy is that these kids are still child laborers. If they weren’t there at the school, they would be working in the quarries. Usually there are only about 5-7 kids, but there were 19 kids this time, all there because we were there.

Let me tell you a bit about what these kids would normally be doing. They’re earth movers. In the quarries, people blow up earth and then these kids go in and pick up and move any rocks big enough to grab and carry, leaving behind the gravel. They then pile up the rocks they carried, blow it up, and do it all over again. And again. And again. Until all that’s left is gravel. They do this in the morning until the rocks get too hot to touch and then again in the evening.

These kids are tiny. I’d say the average age is 6, but it’s hard to estimate by looks because a 14 year old girl didn’t look older than 10 due to malnutrition and undernourishment. But they were really, really young.

Another sad part is that the very, very little money that they make doesn’t even help their family. The priorities are so skewed that most of families’ income goes to alcohol or celebrations. That’s why the education is so important, so they can see the error of their ways.

Anyways, these kids put on performances for us, and they were amazing! True, the performances weren’t that well choreographed. . . or even that well executed, but they were SO CUTE!!!! Seriously. They were wearing clothes that didn’t fit and were dirty and ripped, but it didn’t matter. These kids were happy and bubbly and had so much heart. I never expected that from child laborers. I think that I expected sunken, hollow eyes.

(I’m in my room now. Pre-port finished, then I went and watched a movie for terrorism, then I signed up for Berkeley classes. Or should I say got on wait lists for classes that I might want to take but didn’t really have time to think about or research because I’m on a boat with no internet. Anyways, now it’s midnight and I’m on my bed. My roommate is asleep, and I’m jealous. Dreamland calls, but I need to get through at least a little more India before going to sleep. At least another day or two. I have to finish before Vietnam, for your sake and for mine. So back to the kids. . . )

We ended up playing with the kids outside. I don’t know where they came from, but suddenly there were balls flying everywhere! The types of balls you find in a play pen at McDonalds, mostly, but also partially deflated volley balls and soccer balls, something I think might have been a cricket ball, and anything else spherical. Flying balls and floating laughter filled the air. It was SO MUCH FUN. We would just play variations of catch in the yard. Nothing was organized. Nothing. It was absolute chaos, but it was so. . . joyful. Both on their part and ours. I just can’t get over how much I enjoyed it! Plus, I was pretty impressed with my ball throwing and catching skills. =-)

Then we went back the RIDE, the NGO that was hosting us. There we had dinner (so good!), had a Q&A session with the founder, and then went to sleep. The room I was staying in I shared with three other SAS girls and one girl volunteering for RIDE. She had been there for a couple months and was leaving soon. Hearing her experiences was inspiring. She’s traveled the world teaching English or working for NGOs, and she’s only in her 20s! I’d write more, but Kellie just shifted in her sleep, reminding me of how much I want to join her in dreamland. So for now, I’ll keep it to my own experiences.

DAY THREE: Woke up at RIDE, had an incredible Indian breakfast, and then headed out. We ended up visiting two temples. The first was built out of sandstone a really, really long time ago. I forget exactly how long. I want to say at least 1,000 years. . . . but that’s an awfully long time. There were statues of gods and lions and other figures. And I saw a parrot! Really old structures like that really get my mind going. I love walking around them. Think of everything that ever could have happened there. 1,000 years ago someone was walking where I walked. Imagine what they were wearing, what was going on in the world, what they might have been thinking. And even before that, someone so long ago had to build it. Someone had to design it. I love how being somewhere old links you to the history because you somehow become a part of it. Not totally, obviously, but I like to feel like I’m one link in an ever-growing chain of history.

Then we went to another temple that was VERY different. I don’t know if you can even call it a temple. It was definitely a religious area, but instead of a building there were large, brightly painted statues of the gods. Now when I say “large,” what do you think of? Nope. Not big enough. Think of something bigger. Nope, even bigger than that.

I came up to about the knee of the statues.

They were really big.

From there we briefly went to a village. There were lots of people there to welcome us, and they performed a religious ceremony. We were then invited to the home of the president of the village, and he fed us and gave us some chai tea. I love the tea! And the food! The family performed a welcoming ceremony that, by the end of my time in India, I became quite familiar with. A woman had a bowl of red saffron water with a floating leaf in it. On the leaf is what looks like a marshmallow. She lights the marshmallow on fire, scoops up the leaf, puts it on the ground, and pours the red water around it. I don’t know what the significance of it is, but I know that it is some sort of welcoming practice.

So the president welcomed us, and shortly after we left. From there we went to a woman’s house. The woman had used micro lending to start up her own pottery business. . . except there was a man actually doing the pottery, so I don’t really know how that worked out. I didn’t catch the full story. But it was cool to see him make the pots!!

Then they asked if anybody wanted to try. I really wanted to, but I hung back in case somebody else wanted to volunteer. Nobody did, so I went for it. It was so cool! I love getting dirty/messy. My feeling on life is if you’re not getting dirty, bruised, or broken, you’re missing something. (All the while being safe, of course.). At least that’s how it is for my stage of life.

Anyways, I got to “help” make a pot – I don’t think I was much help. Oh! And they had these cool jars like piggy banks in that you put money in but you can’t get money out. I bought one, and I think it’s going to be my travel fund. If I start putting money in now, hopefully breaking it when I graduate from college yield a nice gift for myself.

Oh, me making the pot turned into 2 front page pictures, which is fun. . . but kind of ridiculous. There really wasn’t anything more important going on other than some foreign kid making a pot?

Back to RIDE for lunch then onto a child labor free silk store. I got to see how saris are made, which was really cool! Incredibly intricate and complex. . . although I don’t know what I was expecting. But I was really blown away with how much goes into it.

Then back to the ship. From there I met up with people from the Welcome Reception on the first day, went out to dinner & coffee, and got to see a bit more of India. Yay!!

DAY FOUR: Woke up early to head out to the Dalit Village. Dalit, formally called “untouchables,” are the lowest rung on the Indian caste system. No, that’s not accurate; they’re not even ON the caste system. The caste system is divided up like a body, giving some people the part of head, shoulders, legs, etc. The Dalit, however, are not even part of the body. They’re completely set apart.

Before going to the village, we went to a nursing school. We were again welcomed with lots of dance performances (beginning to see a pattern?) and coconuts with straws in them. Yum. After being welcomed, we participated in a Q&A session with the founder of the school. He’s a really impressive man. He is Dalit and has worked in the UN and now spends his time on the school and fighting for Dalit rights. Really, really impressive. After that – lunch! From there we went into the nursery where we got to play with little kids for a bit. Not nearly as crazy as the Child Labor kids, but still super cute!

Then we were called out to the makeshift volley ball court to play a game of “Throw Ball” with the nursing students.

Let me set the scene for you: On one side of the net are a group of Indian girls in their late teens and early twenties. They are dressed beautifully in saris and fine clothing. Their hair is nicely done. They’re wearing sandals. They look simply beautiful. On the other side . . . is u. We’re in our dirtiest clothes, super sweaty, lots of competitive boys, jeans, t-shirts, tennis shoes, bandanas. We look like the cast of Survivor. The game is simple. It’s like volley ball, except you catch the ball and then throw it back instead of volleying it back and forth.

Recap:

Them: beautifully dressed girls.
Us: sweaty, tough coeds.
The game: basic.

They kicked our butt. We didn’t win a single game. The boys were humiliated.

I thought it was hilarious.

(Okay, as much as I want to continue writing, I feel like the next part can’t be done “half way” like what I’ve written so far. So I’ll save it for tomorrow. Ugh, I don’t like things piling up, but I also very much value my sleep, and it’s past my bedtime. I’ll write more tomorrow. Don’t worry, we’re nearing the end.)

(It’s tomorrow for me, but you’re still in yesterday. I’m going up Mekong Delta in Vietnam. So cool! Now back to the story. . .)

After leaving the nursing school where we totally got our butts kicked by a bunch of pretty girls in saris, we headed off to a village where we were going to stay the night.

Problem was when we got there, it was already dark. And the power wasn’t working in the village.

I have never been part of something so crazy in my whole life as what happened that night. And that included the night Obama got elected and people filled the streets of Berkeley.

We get out of the vans and are immediately surrounded by people. There’s a lit stage in the distance, so we think that’s where we’re going. Wrong. We are immediately swept up in a current of people and become the head of a parade through the entire village. This is not your ordinary parade: The twenty or so of us are lead by a guy with a giant torch as hundreds follow behind. Practically running. We are constantly told to hurry up and that we should be running, although, save the dry, thatched homes illuminated by the flaming ball of fire that leads us, we can’t see anything. Kids surround us saying, “Hello. What is your name?” in pretty good English, although it’s quickly apparent that this is the only English they know. About every minute of so a woman comes out to bless and welcome us with the saffron water and flaming marshmallow leaf. So then that means in addition to hurrying though the “roads” of the very dry village that I’m scared the torch is going to accidently burn down, trying to talk to kids that don’t speak English, and stopping abruptly to be periodically blessed and welcomed, we are now having to dodge flaming leaves on the ground. Not an easy feat when there are so many people that you can’t see what’s going on.

But we made it.

Eventually we made it all the way around the village and back to the stage. We sat in chairs and at least 200 other people surrounded us to watch the show. We were welcomed with coconuts, a creepy circus-y performance, martial arts & fire manipulation demonstration, and (you guessed it!) dancing. Both he circus-y people and the martial arts guys did this thing with small hula hoops where they made a basket and then put a baby in it. . . I don’t quite get it. It was all very strange.

Then we were ushered to where we would be sleeping for the night: A large, hot room with a concrete floor and nothing else.

Before leaving for my trip, I asked Kerry (my big brother) if he had any travel tips. He said bring a towel; it’s multifunctional and a lot smaller than carrying a blanket, pillow, etc. I’m glad I headed his advice. Everyone else had either been carrying a sleeping bag around all day or had nothing, forcing them to share a sleeping bag with someone else. I was perfectly happy laying out my towel and sleeping on top of it. It was too hot for a blanket, and I was perfectly happy in my jeans and t-shirt.

I slept really, really good.

The next morning we woke up early, had breakfast, and left. We arrived back at the ship late that morning, and I spent the rest of the time in the city before departing that evening.

So those are my experiences. I would cut them short, but there are a couple more things that I want to add:

1) Everything you’ve ever heard about cows in India is true. They’re EVERYWHERE, and they have complete free range. If there’s a cow in the road, the crazy Indian traffic stops for the cow. If a cow wanders into a store, nobody will push the cow out. If a cow sits on you. . . actually, I don’t know what happens if a cow sits on you. But I’m pretty darn sure you wouldn’t be able to just push it off.

2) India is a country of contrasts. Looking at the infrastructure and surroundings, the country seems dirty and underdeveloped. Then you look at the women. These women are always dressed beautifully in brightly colored saris or similar Indian clothing. Not a spot on them. The look better sweeping the streets or playing Throw Ball than I did for my prom. It’s not the same with the men. The men fit in more with the surroundings, but the women just blow me away.

3) In southern India the speak Tamil, not Hindu.

4) I have never been so openly stared at as I was in India. In other countries people would look, but often they would try and be discrete about it. Not here. Here they would stop dead and stare as I walked by. When I was on the rickshaws, I would get complete double takes like the kinds in the movies. I don’t think Chennai gets a lot of white visitors.

5) They do this weird figure eight thing with their heads. Luckily, I’ve mastered it’s meaning. Simplified, this is what it means: “I acknowledge that you’re talking, but I’m not going to let you know whether or not I actually understand or agree. Instead I’m just going to wobble my head like a bobble head on the dashboard of a crazy rickshaw driver and let you guess. It’s a secret code that we all pretend to understand, but really NOBODY knows what’s going on. Haha, you think you will be able to decode our secret movements, but you can’t. As long as I keep my head moving, I won’t have to otherwise indicate that I have no idea what you mean, and eventually you’ll stop talking and I can just take you wherever I want, bring you whatever I want, or sell you whatever I want without any influence from what I have just acknowledged you saying. Plus it’s a nice neck exercise. Really, you should try it sometime.”

6) Everywhere we went, we were welcomed with garlands of flowers. Mostly jasmine, I think.

Okay, well for the most part that’s all I can think of for India. I’m so excited to show you pictures and tell you stories in real life so I can act them out.

I’m going to write about Halloween now. I want to be all caught up before we dock.