India & Postcards

I don't know what the competition is, but India is winning at something. This has been really freakin' amazing. I'm excited to write more about it. Here's a preview of what's to come:

-Exploring/rickshaws/finding places by only knowing one letter/amazing people
-Welcome reception/sari/henna
-100th Voyage celebration/newpaper pictures/tv news interview/ spontaneously dancing Cupid Shuffle on stage in front of hundreds of the most important Indians in the area/amazing dance performances
-Meeting child laborers/playing with child laborers - ball chaos!/making (*cough* TRYING to make *cough*) a pot/ more new paper pictures & another interview/silk factory
-Dinner with local

I love being blonde.

Two quick notes about postcards:
1) I didn't have the chance to buy postage in Mauritius, so I'll be sending THOSE post cards from here
2) Because yet another port mail delivery day has come and gone leaving me empty handed and writing and sending lots of post cards takes a LOT of time and money, I'm instating a new guideline for myself: If a) I haven't heard from you, and b) you're not family, I'm probably going to stop sending post cards. I hope there aren't any hard feelings.

My e-mail and snail mail addresses are below. 

Thank You

Hey, I know I just posted a blog, but I wanted to add one last thing. Thanks so much to my family who has sent me cards and those of you who have e-mailed. I can’t emphasize enough how much I love hearing from you guys. Snail-mail/e-mail/smoke-signals/whatever are all greatly appreciated. Especially snail mail. And e-mail. Smoke signals . . . not so much.

Even if you just write your name on a post card and stick it in the mail, it accumulates meaning as it travels around the world and by the time it reaches me it really means a lot. Let’s me know I’m not out-of-sight, out-of-mind.

Addresses are below.

E-mail is same as before: lilac2@berkeley.edu
Or you can reach me here: ljcarpenter@semesteratsea.net

Love you all.

Wait, We Left Mauritius Already? Seriously?

Wow, that country just flew by. And I’m sorry to say that I didn’t get to see a lot of it – but what I DID see was pretty freakin’ awesome!

Most of what I saw was blue . . . and liquid . . . and slightly colder than it looks . . . and salty. If you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m talking about the ocean. “Why did she see so much of the ocean?” You might be asking. Well I’ll tell you: Because I got scuba certified! Woohoo! I am now certified worldwide for life. Awesome!

It took two days. I spent two days BREATHING UNDERWATER! Can you believe it? It’s probably one of the coolest things I’ve ever done. Breath underwater. Feel weightless. Be in a completely foreign environment. I felt like I was in Kerry’s fish tank.

Certification usually takes a couple weeks, but we have a VERY condensed course. Two full days of book work, pool exercises, and ocean exercises. So cool! I got to see lots of fish, an octopus, a ray, coral, and more fish. When we were little we had a book about fish (do we still have it?). It had a white cover, it was big, and it was in a series of children’s books about anything you could possibly want to know about ever. Anyways, there was one picture that’s always stood out to me (maybe it’s on the cover): the lion fish. Google it. I saw lots.

In the ocean our dive instructor would swim ahead and we would follow him around. I felt kind of like a kid caught eating batter out of the bowl after being left in the kitchen for a second because while our instructor was swimming with his arms folded or by his side, I was swimming with them in front of me trying (unsuccessfully) to catch the fishes – and he would see me every time he turned around. I don’t think he cared though.

Scuba diving was amazing. New hobby. Very excited.

One thing that amazed me was how much American “surf culture” was here. I felt like I was in Santa Cruz. O’Neil was everywhere. When I said he lived in Santa Cruz, my hometown, people said “That’s a person?” Wow.

Let me paint you a picture of Mauritius before I continue on with my adventures. Close your eyes and picture . . . wait, don’t close your eyes. Then you can’t read this. But imagine the stereotypical, beautiful, tropical island. White sandy beaches, blue waters, palm trees, lush green plants. You’re picturing Mauritius. It really is that beautiful. There’s a lot of agriculture, particularly sugar cane. It reminded me of one time when Dad brought us home sugar cane from the flea market – happy memories.

Okay, now that you have the picture in your head, I’m moving on. So the first two days were spent getting scuba certified. Then the first night I went out to dinner with friends. We were looked at like we were crazy when we walked into the restaurant, so we knew it wasn’t very touristy. Instead of ordering we asked them to bring us what they thought was the best, and they did. I love how in so many countries when you order they bring you big plates to share and pass around. What’s wrong with America? The food was similar to Indian food, except . . . different. Absolutely delicious though! Then we walked back to the waterfront and just when the five of us were going to catch a water taxi (cool!) back to the ship, three of us decided we weren’t quite done with our night. We headed back into the city and ended up at the casino where I got 100R worth of coins to play the slot machines. (Don’t freak out. 100R = $3.25ish). And do you want to know something cool? I left with 135R! Hurray for me! The house DOESN’T always win!

The second night a friend of mine was having a bad day, so I told her she had an hour to sulk/mope and then I was going to kidnap her for a girls’ night. She was resistant, but I didn’t give her a choice. She thanked me later. On the water taxi into the city a fellow SAS student named John attached himself to us. His friends (and the rest of the boat) were all renting villas on some beach somewhere. We exited the water taxi expecting to go different way, but then he said, “So you girls just want to hop it?” meaning “Do you want to stop at every single bar on the waterfront and have a beer at each of them”. . . No thank you. We ended up meeting up with a bigger group of SAS kids who were more interested in what he was interested in, so when they were talking we said we were going to go explore and slipped away.

We ended up following music to a really great performance. A man was singing in Hindi (I think) and there were dancers with brightly colored costumes. Lots of fun to watch. We danced a bit to the music and got some weird looks, but we decided we didn’t care since it was our last night in port and it wasn’t like we were going to see anybody ever again anyways. Then we went up to Shooters, a bar overlooking the whole waterfront where we hung out with a lot of SAS kids. We both got pina coladas (mine was virgin – why pay extra for the alcohol when I really just want the pineapple & coconut?). It was really, really good. Then we called it a night, since we both had early mornings.

The last day was a lot of fun! I went to the Adventure Park – hurray! The park was 7 bridges then 7 obstacle courses. The group that had gone earlier said that it was super intense and that they were sore at the end, so I went in super pumped up for a challenging and exciting adventure.

I probably could have done the course when I was seven.

But it was still fun! Not as high up or as challenging as I might have wanted, but fun nonetheless. Plus the scenery was BEAUTIFUL. And it was different being in a jungle as opposed to a forest. What surprised me, though, was how . . . unregulated it was. They put you in a harness at the beginning, point you to the path, and let you go. From there on I don’t think I saw a single instructor until the end. It’s your responsibility to clip onto the cables and nobody is going to check to make sure you do it or make sure you do it right. Crazy. I was able to be safe, though, since when I did the ropes course at Mount Hermon they actually teach you how to clip in and how the carabineers should be facing opposite directions. Important stuff like that.

After the Adventure Park (or “Parc” as they spell it), we went down to Flic and Flac beach. We only had a little over an hour, so not a lot for a whole beach day. But there was still plenty of time to walk around the town, hit the grocery store to use up some last rupees, and collect coral on the beach. Other people didn’t want to get wet, but I’m my father’s daughter and couldn’t resist taking one last dunk in that beautiful, blue ocean. Light turquoise might be a more accurate color description.

I hadn’t used up all my rupees at the grocery store because I was looking forward to buying fruit on the beach. So, after my dunk, I went to one of the many fruit stands determined to use up the last of my money. I bought: a huge coconut bigger than my head with a straw in it, a pineapple the size of two of my fists carved so that you can hold it by the green and eat it kind of like an ice cream cone, and a WHOLE bunch of other fruits they had picked in jars – some of which I recognized and some of which I didn’t. I was trying to spend my last couple hundred rupee. Fail. The total was 140, which is less than five bucks. But it was time to go, so I went and got back on the bus. Shortly after finishing my coconut milk, I realized that I had absolutely no way of eating the meat inside of. I presented my predicament to the guide and he told me to smash my head against it. Luckily for me, he had been teasing me all day and by this time I had caught on; his first answer is always a lie. So I didn’t try. Then he directed me to a nearby stand that would cut it open for me. So I ran over (we were still waiting for the stragglers and slackers to get to the bus, so I ended up having plenty of time) and asked the guy to open it for me. Not only did he machete the coconut open for me, but he completely gutted it and put all the coconut meat in a bag. Then I handed him some of my remaining money (50R = $1.50) and asked for that much worth of fruit. He filled a huge bag full of picked . . . everything! Why everything is pickled in Mauritius, I don’t know. But there was pickled starfuit (good!) pickled mango (okay) and pickeld other stuff that I didn’t recognize. Some was weird. Oh, and it’s not the kind of sour pickled-ness like pickles in America. It’s . . . sweeter, but still with that same tang.

Anyways, besides the pickled fruit, I had a DELICIOUS dinner on the bus of an ENTIRE coconut and an ENTIRE pineapple. If you know me at all, you know I was in heaven.

Mauritius was wonderful. I don’t know if I’ll ever go back (there are so many islands like that, why not try a different one next time?), but I definitely enjoyed my time there.

My Life On The Boat

I was walking to my room tonight when I realized (maybe a little late) that my family has no idea how I’m living. They don’t know where my room is on the ship, what my room looks like, where I eat breakfast, where my classes are, or anything like that. It made me a little sad. I thought about sending them an e-mail about it, but then I figured that I might as well write a blog. So here we go: the boat and my life on it.

The boat has 7 stories, or “decks” as they’re called here. Deck doesn’t necessarily refer to an outside area. The first and second decks are restricted for students. Crew live on the second and I don’t know what happens below that . . . probably engine stuff and such. Oh! And on the second deck is also where we have our counseling and doctor offices. Most the decks are connected so that you can walk from one end of the ship to the other on one floor, but that’s not the case with the second. You have to go down certain staircases in order to get to the counseling & doctors office. I tried once, ended up somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be, and gave up. Sometimes I feel like the boat is like Hogwarts, despite the difficulty of navigating it, you can mostly get the hang of it but there’s still stuff that will forever baffle you. 

The third deck is where I live. Third deck, port, aft. Which means third floor on the left (when your facing the front) towards the back. My room is #3140. All the even rooms are on the port side and all the odd are on the starboard (right) side. The hall stretches the length of the ship, which is a pretty long hall. It’s broken up by some fireproof doors or little walls that you have to jag around, but it’s more or less one long, stretching hall that you can walk from end to end on. My room is at the very end. I think there might be one, maybe two rooms after me.

Granted, the location of my room is at times inconvenient, but I love it still!  Plus since it’s near the back, it’s right over the engine. There’s some engine noise, but I’m a good sleeper and don’t mind at all. Plus the engine noise is the sound of saving money, since having the room at the way back puts me in “economy” housing. I’m listening to the noise now trying to describe what the sound is like. . . hmm. . . Oh! I got it. Did you ever take baths when you were little and put your head under the water near the running faucet? It sounds like that. Or like the base of a waterfall heard from underwater or from a distance. Not at a bad noise at all – actually quite pleasant.

I also like being on top of the engine because I can feel the vibrations of it working. Sometimes it wakes me up at night (it gets loud and really shaky if they’re switching engines), but I still like it. Part of the adventure. Plus on the nights that we pull out from port the “cool” thing to do is to go up to the outside deck on 6 or 7 and wave goodbye to the disappearing land. The problem is that even if they say we’re leaving at 2000, we sometimes don’t leave till 2045 and then you just end up standing up there waiting to pull away when all your homework that you didn’t do while you were in port is waiting for you down in your room. I have the luxury of being able to stay in my room until I feel the engines come on. Then about 15 minutes later, I’ll feel them REALLY kick into gear, and then I’ll go up to deck 6 right as the boat starts to move.

I love my room.

I’ll describe it a bit: My door has a key card at a hotel. Also, the room number is mounted on a plaque on my door, and behind this plaque is where we get information put about upcoming trips, bills, and our MAIL (I hope I get some mail tomorrow!!). When you walk in my door there is a small hallway that’s maybe 4 feet long and 2 feet across. But keep in mind, I’m REALLY bad at estimating stuff like this. Hold on, I’ll measure. Not that it matters, but it’s shoulder to fingertip across and shorter than my “wingspan” long. On the left is our closet. Two doors open up to have a normal closet that hangs clothes (and holds our life jackets) and one door has shelves. On the right is the door to our little bathroom with just enough room to stand in and maybe turn around if you really need to. The bathroom and closet doors can’t be open at the same time.

Walk farther into my room and you will see drawers, a disguised fridge (looks like drawers), a shelf, and a tv on the left. The tv has a cool channel that shows where we are with exact coordinates and such. On the right is a little desk that is covered with jewelry, my roommates straitner & hair products, iPods, CDs, etc. Needless to say, it’s not very functional as a desk. It’s kind of in the corner, so it has that 3-mirror thing. There’s maybe a foot between the edge of the desk and the edge of my bed. I love my bed. Blue comforter, typical of what you would find in any Motel 8, and topped with my hot pink squishy pillow. Our walls are magnetic, so we can decorate them pretty easily. Mine has a world map with our route traced on it, the letter I’ve gotten from home, some notes people on the ship have written me, my chart about buying people gifts, a couple quotes I like, information I shouldn’t loose, the dollar Jeff gave me, and bumperstickers I really like. At the foot of my bed (between my bed and the desk) is a box full of books that overflowed from the shelf at the head of my bed. The shelf at the head of my bed is pretty large, so I’m kind of impressed that I could have overflow. Under my bed are my two duffels and a couple boxes: gifts to give out (to kids and such), travel, and sunscreen. Next to my bed is the bedside table, on top of which is sitting a Cal alarm clock and Time Magazine on my side. My roommate’s side has a Cosmo girl and a different alarm clock. Her side of the room is pretty similar to mine: same bed, similar magnetic wall. Her wall has her itinerary for the trips, a world map, a couple post cards she bought in port, important information that she shouldn’t lose (that I put up, because it was getting lost), a calendar, and an essay with a good grade that she was proud of.

The carpet is blue. The blinds are a sandy color. Oh! And on my wall is a big painting that really isn’t that cool to look at but on the back previous SAS kids have written about their experiences and advice. I’m excited to leave my mark.

All the rooms are pretty similar. Some are bigger, some have mirrors instead of windows, but they’re all pretty similar.

So decks 3 and 4 have bedrooms.

Deck 5 has the “Main Dining Room” in the aft. It’s pretty nice, with chandeliers and big windows and such. Food is buffet style. There are some more rooms on deck 5 (much more expensive), and then at the front of the ship is Tymitz Square – which is actually a circle. This is our school’s  main office, so to speak. It’s where to go to enquire about extracurricular activities, trips for in port, lost and found, security, passport stuff, etc.

Deck 6 has “The Union” at the front. It’s the largest room on the ship and where we have our Global Studies course. It looks like a large auditorium. . . except it has couches and kooshy seats instead of stiff desks. The Union is where I’m taking my hip hop class. SO much fun. I freakin’ love dancing.

If you leave The Union walking towards the back of the ship, you pass the library on your right and computer lab on your left. Keep walking and you’ll pass our store which is divided into two parts: clothes & not clothes. The two parts straddle a hall. Keep going and the piano lounge will be on your left – an area for people to get together and study, play games, etc. Keep going and you’ll be at our other dining room which is directly over the Deck 5 dining room. Oh, I forgot to mention that on your walk you passed the majority of our classrooms, most of which have real desks and seats. The deck 6 dining room is louder and has the option of outdoor seating, which I usually opt for.

Deck 7 has the gym, spa, basketball court (really, really small basketball court) and lots of deck space. The gym is small, but I don’t need a lot of space. Just one elliptical, preferably one in front of the window, from 7:30-8:00 every morning. I’ve seen lots of whales. If the possibility of seeing whales during your work out isn’t motivation to get your butt out of bed and into the gym isn’t motivation, I don’t know what is! The spa has everything: manicures, haircuts, hair dying, massages, waxing. . . I’m sure there’s other stuff too, but I don’t really know. I haven’t even gone in it, and I don’t really plan to. The outside deck on the 7th deck has our “pool,” which is really a slightly oversized bathtub and our bar. You can get real food, snack food, or a very limited amount of alcohol here. I haven’t bought anything here, since it costs real money and I’m perfectly happy with the food they give me for free. During the day – especially on a hot day – the 7th deck looks like the beaches of San Diego. All the girls are tanning or laying out, the boys are lifting weights (oh ya, there’s weights there too), everyone have a smoothie or other expensive beverage in hand and so on. Not my scene.

But the 7th deck is also where I’m learning Tae Kwon Do, which is fun.

So that’s basically the whole ship. Hopefully you can picture a little bit more what it looks like for me. Please, ask questions if you have any.

I know I say this a lot, but I would really love to hear from you.

I love you all.

Mauritius tomorrow.

More South Africa

My dad sent me a couple questions about South Africa, so I thought I'd post the answers here too in addition to replying to his e-mail.

LOVE YOU ALL!

South Africa is VERY high on the "go back" list. In fact, I'm thinking of interning there next summer. That makes missing bungee/sharks/table mountain less sad, since I know I can do it then (or whenever I do end up coming back). Even though the apartheid is over and there is no more institutionalized segregation, segregation still exists. It's not like once they were allowed to live together blacks magically had enough money to move into the white suburbs, so there is still a lot of segregation in where people live and therefore work, hangout, etc. And there is some left over racism - coloureds not wanting to be identified as blacks, whites not wanting blacks to be seen as equals, etc. But overall, they've come a long way. There is a lot of interracial mixing. That being said, 90% of whites have never been to the townships (slums where the black people live) and something around 90% of blacks have never been invited into a white person's home. So they still have a ways to go.

Who owns the businesses really depends on what part of town you're in. Mostly, though, I'm guessing it's owned by whites and coloureds.

What it looks like walking down the street also varies a lot depending on what part of town you're in. I would divide the parts of Cape Town I saw into three main parts: 1) The waterfront, 2) Downtown, 3) The Townships

The waterfront area looks oddly, remarkably like Capitola. Well. . . except for all the boats and the freakin' huge Table Mountain in the background. But it has the same feel - REALLY, REALLY safe, cute, touristy, good food, lots of shops, etc. Oh! And there is lots of really, really good live music. Jazz and some African instruments that I don't know the name of.

Downtown is similar to any downtown you might find in the states. The buildings are multistory, there is larger racial diversity, and it's a bit dirtier than the Waterfront area. Differences from the US are that they drive on the left (weird) and it's probably a little bit more rundown than a lot of places. The infrastructure isn't wonderful, but it's getting better. There's a cool little market right in the middle. Like a mini-flea market. Except the vendors are a lot more aggressive than Santa Cruz flea market people. I think that's something I'm really going to appreciate when I go home: the privileged of being able to look around, decide not to buy anything, and leave without anyone hassling me or telling me they have "good price, good price." Downtown isn't somewhere you'd want to wander around alone at night, but I think you can attribute that simply to it being the downtown area of a large city as opposed to it being Cape Town, South Africa.

The Townships are nothing like what we have in America. They don't even approach what I've seen in Tijuana. The Townships, or "Shanty Towns" are the areas where the black people were forced to live during the apartheid and where they have since lived because of lack of resources or money to move elsewhere. But they've actually improved a lot over the last ten years. Now there are beginning to be roads, electricity, and there's a porta-potty every once in awhile. So that's an improvement that you have to give them credit for. Plus there are kind of "half way houses." That's not what they're called, but it's something between Townships and "real" houses that people are slowly moving into as they are provided by the government. But then the spaces in the Townships are quickly filled by immigrants from Zimbabwe and other war torn, dangerous countries. So the government is trying, and making progress, but they have a looooong way to go. The houses are about the size of my closet (I have a big closet, but that's still pretty freakin small). Maybe a little bigger. They're made out of scrap metal and lumber and packed close together with maybe a foot between. MAYBE a foot. If you get a little higher than them, it looks like a solid layer of metal, the houses are so close together. Whole families - sometimes even multiple families - live in these houses. They generally don't have electricity or water. Actually, I didn't see any with water, but I'm guessing there might be a couple. The floors are dirt.

The part of Cape Town that I didn't see was the country area where all the wine tasting is. I heard it looks a lot like Napa, California.

South Africa was rated #1 for a long time about having the greatest disparity between rich and poor (only recently passed up by Columbia). I can definitely see why. It's crazy that the two worlds are only a couple minutes away from each other, and yet whites often completely ignore the Townships and blacks sometimes never venture beyond them. Crazy.

Hurray For God And South Africa!!

It’s our second day at sea after departing from South Africa. High time I finish blogging about my adventures before moving onto the next ones.

I’m not going to go day by day through everything I did. Sorry. I’m going to be a little more. . . abstract, I guess is the word. I don’t know where exactly I’ll end up with it, so please bear with me. (I always felt like there should be a different bear besides bear and bare for that type of bear. . . but oh well. English is weird).

My overall South African experience ended up being completely different from what I had originally planned. Way back when I was starting to plan South Africa, I bought a ticket to a one-day safari. Then I ended up selling that ticket so I could afford shark diving. Then I rearranged the date of shark diving so that I could go bungee jumping. All of that still afforded me time to climb Table Mountain. South Africa was supposed to be adventurous and full of adrenaline, full of the ingredients for big smiles, loud screams, and awesome stories!

God had other plans.

Shark diving got canceled due to stormy weather, my bungee buddy backed out and it’s too dangerous to travel solo, and Table Mountain got fogged to the point that people weren’t being allowed up the mountain.

Everything that was supposed to make my blood rush got canceled. Everything that was supposed to make my adrenaline surge through my body got taken off the schedule. Practically everything that I had been looking forward got nixed.

Luckily for me I love and trust God. Over the entirety of this trip (and from some experiences before) I’ve embraced the belief that God is the best travel agent. Despite all my planning and research, he’s able to make a much better plan. He can personalize my itinerary to my needs and the needs of other people that I can meet. He doesn’t have to plan around the weather; He controls the weather. Also, He knows everything that isn’t happening. I’ll never know what He prevented. He could have saved me from something as small as loosing my camera or something as big as a bungee snapping. I’ll never know. Or maybe He wasn’t saving me from anything. He was just providing me with different – better – experiences. I’ll never know.

I take comfort in Romans 8:28.
And we know that in all things, God works for the good of those who love Him.
That’s me. God’s working for my good, and all I need to do is trust Him.
I can do that.

So let me take a couple minutes to tell you about the AMAZING South Africa trip God had planned for me. Sorry if I repeat a bit from before, but I’ll try not to.

Robben Island was incredible. I know I already touched on this, but I’m going to back track a bit and point out just two things that really stuck out to me. Two words, actually.

As I said before, we got a tour of the prison from somebody that was actually imprisoned there. That in and of itself was an amazing experience. When he was explaining the daily schedule he said that most people were locked up at 4:00, but since he worked in the kitchen, he and his fellow workers “got the privilege of being locked up at 6:00.”

THE PRIVILEGE OF BEING LOCKED UP. . .

Wow.

As soon as he said that, my mouth dropped. Privilege. What do I think of when I think of the word “privilege”? What are my privileges? Use of a car when I’m at home, education, the opportunity to travel the world . . . On a smaller scale, I have the privilege of having clothes that fit and keep me warm, food whenever I’m hungry, access to a clean and functioning bathroom. Even my “smaller” privileges are so much greater than being locked up two hours later.

Later the same man was talking about Nelson Mandela. For those who don’t know, Nelson Mandela was an anti-apartheid activist who later became president of South Africa. He was imprisoned in 1964 for being part of the movement and was released in 1990. When talking about Mandela, the man mentioned that Mandela spent “only 18 years on Robben Island.”

ONLY 18 YEARS.

That’s pretty close to my whole life. Can you imagine doing anything for “only 18 years”? When I’m asked the “where will you be in ten years?” question, I wonder how anyone could possibly think that far ahead – it seems like a lifetime away, even though it’s only 10 years. When I’m hungry and it’s a half hour until the cafeteria opens up, I think I’m going to starve to death, even though it’s only half and hour. When I have to wait 30 seconds for a page on the internet to load it seems like an eternity, even though it’s only 30 seconds.

ONLY 18 YEARS.

The word choice of this man amazed me, in the true since of the word. I was dumbfounded. I still don’t think I can wrap my mind around it. My privileges are so much greater and my only’s are so much smaller, and yet I can forget to be grateful.

Those two words – privilege, only – are going to stick with me for a very, very long time. 


I went to the Amy Biehl Foundation, too. Another mind blowing experience.

In case you don’t know the Amy Biehl story, I’ll give a quick overview. Amy Biel was a white Stanford graduate with a degree in South African studies. She was in South Africa on scholarship and working with the anti-apartheid movement when she was, ironically, murdered during a anti-apartheid rally. She was only 26.

The amazing part is her parents. Instead of turning to anger and hate they forgave the murders. And then reconciled with them.

What?!

I know, I think the same thing every time I think of the story too. But it’s true. They granted 3 of the four murders amnesty through the Truth and Reconciliation Committee after they showed deep remorse. Then they founded the Amy Biehl Foundation, which is a non-profit functioning in Cape Town running after school programs to underprivileged youth to help provide them with an alternative to drugs and gangs.

Two of the murders work in the foundation.

Side by side with the parents.

They have developed a deep relationship and call Linda Biehl (the mother) the Xhosa word for “Mom.”

With every level of this story, I find myself going: What? What?! WHAT?!

If someone I loved was killed, I’d want a gold medal just for not seeking revenge. Forgiveness would be a whole other level. Reconciliation would be . . . almost unthinkable. Working with them would be out of the question. And developing a relationship with them and coming to love them is such an outlandish idea that it’s laughable. Never going to happen.

But it did happen. That’s EXACTLY what happened with the Biehl family. And I don’t understand it.

Their story gives me even more appreciation for God’s love. Would the Biehl parents have sent Amy to South Africa if they knew those she was trying to help would murder her? Probably not. But God did. He sent Jesus knowing full well what would happen to him. Would Amy have gone to South Africa if she had known it would be the end for her? Maybe. Jesus fully knew what was going to happen, and came anyways. Do I have any idea, any notion at all, of how the Biehl parents could possibly forgive and reconcile with the murders? How they can invite them into their lives? How they can love them? No. How much greater, then, how much more mind-blowing, more unbelievable, more incredible, inconceivable, and unimaginable is God’s love for us?

He sent His ONLY son to earth, knowing exactly what would happen. He watched as Jesus was betrayed. He watched as He was tortured. He watched as His one and only son was crucified on the cross.

And Jesus! He also knew what He was getting himself into. He knew that Judas would betray him even before Judas did, and yet He allowed it. He knew that he would have to die, and He knew who was going to do it, and yet He did nothing to stop it.

Did you know that the word “excruciating” means “of the cross.” There was no word that adequately described how horrendous the pain of crucifixion was, so the word “excruciating” was invented. Could you watch someone you loved experience excruciating pain? The Father did. Could you experience excruciating pain in order to save those that were inflicting it on you? Jesus did.

Can you believe that? Isn’t it incredible?! Not only did the Father watch Jesus get tortured and killed, but He watched Jesus get tortured and killed by the very people Jesus went to save.

And the story goes on.

Jesus reconciled us to God. We can be with Him now, wholly and completely. God FORGIVES us. We killed His son, and He LOVES us. True, I may not have been the one that nailed the stakes through His wrists, and I would like to think that if I had lived in “Bible times” I would have been crying at the foot of the cross instead of jeering from the crowd, but am I really so different from Pilates? From the crowd who spit in His face? From those who hoisted up His cross?

I like to think so, but I know differently.

The wages of sin is death. Death. You can’t be a little bit dead, just like you can’t be a little bit pregnant. There are some things without in-betweens, and death is one of them (unless, of course, you’re Wesley in The Princess Bride). I’ve sinned, and I continue to sin. I, therefore, deserve to die. Those who crucified Jesus sinned, so they, too, deserve to die. We’re both dead. I’m not “less dead” and they’re not “more dead” based on the severity of our sin. Dead is dead; death is death.

But here’s the magic: Jesus died. He took all my sin on his shoulders. Every sin I’ve ever committed and ever will commit. He was perfect: never lied, never gossiped, never lusted, never stole, never coveted . . . Pure as snow, and yet He died gruesomely and excruciatingly. And the Father watched. Can you imagine that pain? Can you imagine the physical pain of Jesus as the thorns pressed into his head, the whips tore into his skin, the weight of the world’s sin pressed on his shoulders? Can you imagine the emotional pain of the Father as He watched His precious son, His one and only son, a being with whom He was deeply connected, be crucified?

Can you imagine a love greater than that pain? Greater than that physical ripping of skin and emotional sinking of heart. A love that makes it worth it for Jesus to be pulled down into the depths of hell by the weight of our sin. A love that conquers death, allowing Him to return victorious three days later. A love that prevails for the sake of anyone willing to accept it – even if those people are the very same who murdered Jesus. The very same whom the Father watched murder His son. Can you imagine that kind of love?

That’s the kind of love God has. God: The Father, Son, & Holy Spirit. The Father who watched, the Son who experienced, and the Spirit who is currently reopening my eyes to the wonder that is this miracle.

And here’s what blows my mind (if it’s not already totally blown). Yes, God did this for the whole world. Yes, He did it for everyone that has been, is, and is to come. Yes, He did it for every man, woman, and child. Yes, His love and salvation is available for anyone who chooses to accept it.

But it didn’t have to be that way.

It didn’t have to be for everyone.

He would have done it just for me.

He would have done it just for me: Lila June Carpenter.

The girl who has at times lived by the “if life gives you lemons, throw them at someone” mentality. The girl who has made mountains out of molehills. Someone who has lied, gossiped, and coveted. Someone who has hurt people. Someone who has stressed over the little. Someone who has, at times, felt so broken that she could put Humpty Dumpty to shame.

No matter what I’ve done in my past or what I’ll do in my future, God would have done it for me.
No matter how broken, incompetent, inadequate, unvaluable, unworthy, or unbeautiful I might  sometimes feel, God would have done it for me.

And He would have done it for just you too.
He would have gone through that pain if it was only to save you.

The excruciating physical and emotional pain God experienced - the gory, gruesome, ghastly pain that saved the world – would have been endured just for you.

You.

God’s pain was saturated with love. Dripping with it. With every drop of Jesus’ blood that hit the sand, every bead of sweat that fell off his brow, every tear that rolled down his cheek God’s love manifested itself as the exudation of pain.

And you are worth it.
He would have done it just for you.

Can you imagine that kind of love?

It blows me away. I still think I’m only grasping at the beginning of the wonders of God – playing in the fallen leaves of the tree that is His power and glory. I’m amazed with how I can fall increasingly more in love with Him.

My God is truly an awesome God.

I praise him for the wonderful experiences He gave me in South Africa: the people I met, the stories I heard, the bad things that didn’t happen, and the good things that did.

What a wonderful week.

Now I’m off to sleep, off to the rest in the comfort of my Creator who loves me.

Goodnight all. I love you.

And Chris, I hope you have a wonderful birthday party.

  

I'll Make It Easy On You

I don't care if it's just a post card that you sign your name on. I want to hear from you:

Chennai, INDIA (Send by Oct. 9):
MV Explorer - Fall 2009 Voyage
Attention: Lila Carpenter
J.M. BAXI & CO
3rd Floor, Clive Battery Complex
4 & 4A, Rajaji Salai
Chennai 600 001, INDIA


Ho Chi Minh City, VIET NAM (Send by Oct. 20):
MV Explorer - Fall 2009 Voyage
Attention: Lila Carpenter
GENERAL FORWADING AGENCY
5th Floor Osic Building
8 Nguyen Hue Ave.
D. 1, Ho Chi Minh City, VIET NAM


HONG KONG (Send by Oct. 28):
MV Explorer - Fall 2009 Voyage
Attention: Lila Carpenter
INCHAPE SHIPPING SERVICES (HK) Ltd.
Units 1802-1805, 18th Floor
Nº 3 Lockhart Road
Wanchai, Hong Kong - CHINA


Shanghai, CHINA (Send by Nov. 1):
MV Explorer - Fall 2009 Voyage
Attention: Lila Carpenter
PENAVICO SHANGHAI
3/F 13 Zhong Shan Road (E 1)
Shanghai 200002, P.R. CHINA


Yokohama, JAPAN (Send by Nov. 6)
INCHAPE SHIPPING SERVICES
2F Asahi Seimei Yokohama Honcho Bldg
36, 4-Chome Honcho, Naka-ku
Yokohama-shi, Kanagawa-ken 231-005, JAPAN


Kobe, JAPAN (Send by Nov. 9 - THIS IS WHERE I'LL BE ON MY BIRTHDAY!)
MV Explorer - Fall 2009 Voyage
Attention: Lila Carpenter
INCHAPE SHIPPING SERVICES (Japan) Ltd.
Kenryu Bldg, Room 502
6 Kaigan-dori, Chuo-ku
Kobe-shi, Hyog-ken 650-0024, JAPAN


Honolulu, HAWAII (Send by Nov. 20)
MV Explorer - Fall 2009 Voyage
Attention: Lila Carpenter
INCHAPE SHIPPING SERVICES
521 Ala Moana Blvd
Suite 256
Honolulu, HI 96813


Hilo, HAWAII (Send by Nov. 23)
MV Explorer - Fall 2009 Voyage
Attention: Lila Carpenter
INCHAPE SHIPPING SERVICES
521 Ala Moana Blvd
Suite 256
Honolulu, HI 96813

Killer Rabbits

I thought I'd quickly add an interesting fact about Robben Island. There are lots of problems because the rabbits, which are not indigenous and were originally brought over for food, are. . .

. . .


. . .attacking, killing, and EATING the penguins!!

Crazy, right?

And they're HUGE. Like small horses. Okay, not that big, but nearing the size of Dusty. Probably a bit smaller, but not by much.

love you.

Somoosas, Mandela, & Penguins: South Africa Days 2-3

Let me start out by saying that I am SO TIRED, so I'm not responsible for any misspellings, stupid grammatical errors, or stupid sentences.

That being said. . .

I'm loving South Africa.

Yesterday I did something called a "cooking safari." It wasn't what I expected, but I LOVED it. We ended up going to the Muslim area of town and going on a mini walking tour of the area. The tour ended at a Muslim woman's home. She welcomed us into her home and introduced us to her daughter and ADORABLE granddaughter (3 months old). Then she proceeded to teach us how to cook an absolutely delicious Malaysian meal. It was cool because we actually got to cook! We weren't just watching her as if she was on a cooking show. We were the ones folding the samosas, whacking the roti, and spicing the curry. AND we got to eat it all too, which was equally enjoyable. And equally difficult - if not more so. How many meals have you eaten with no use of silver wear OR your right hand? Try tearing some roti. They make you work for your food!

The rest of the day was spent exploring the waterfront with Kalista. Quite, quite enjoyable. Oh! Then I went to a hotel that supposedly had free wi-fi, but it was really, really slow. I wanted to upload pictures to this blog to appease your requests, but it wasn't working. I did manage to get one picture uploaded to facebook (it took about an hour).

Today was another really wonderful experience. After not being able to fall asleep 'till latelatelate I woke up earlyearlyearly to go on my Robben Island trip. Although the island doesn't open to tourists 'till 9:00, we were able to go over on the staff boat at 7:30. Usually the tours are given through a bus. You get off the ferry boat, get on the bus, ride around the island in a circle, get back on the ferry, and go home.

Our experience was different.

We got to ride over in the staff boat, which in an of itself is an experience. Usually your ride over in big, cushy boats, but the staff boat is smaller and outside (FREEZING!). It's also the same boat the prisoners were brought over on, so even the passage over added to the experience.

On the island we got a personal walking tour from a peace activist who was there through the whole fall of the apartheid. He brought us all over the island, teaching and then giving us time to reflect and dialogue about it. Some people didn't like it, but I really enjoyed it. So often tours try and pack lots of information and events into such a short time period - I don't end up with time to process or reflect. This way, we were encouraged to process, reflect, and dialogue after every part. This type of tour was really perfect for me, especially with the apartheid and Robben Island, which are so deserving and demanding of processing. The meaning can't fully be grasped by driving by in a bus - at least it can't for me. I really appreciated the time to process.

Then we had a tour of the prison and cells from someone who was actually imprisoned there. It still blows my mind how RECENT all of it was; it's hard for me to wrap my mind around.

I got to see Nelson Mandela's cell. Let me tell you - there's not much too it.

On a less serious note, I also got to see penguins and an ostrich.

When we came home it was around dinner time. So that's been my day so far.

I love you all a lot. I would love to hear from you.
I walk down the halls and see the mail delivered to everyone else. Send me some love.
(MOM/FAMILY - that's not to you, that's for everyone else. I know I have a letter coming in Mauritius).

Being Better - South Africa Day 1

I'm trying to be better about updating my blog more regularly so you don't get one beast of a post at the end of each port.

We pulled into South Africa this morning and, as I mentioned before, it was absolutely beautiful. The majority of the morning was spent exploring the waterfront area, which is pretty similar to Capitola. Rather touristy, but it's nice to be in an area where I can kind of let my guard down and relax. Pretty different from the other places we've been recently.

In the afternoon I went to the District 6 museum. During the apartheid, District 6 was one of the sections that black people were evicted from and the old houses were bulldozed to reconstruct it into a white area. At least that was my understanding. The museum was a really cool tribute to the people that had lived there before and had returned since the apartheid ended. There was a huge map of the streets before the apartheid where people wrote where there families lived. It was pretty cool to see.

After that we went into the townships. The townships are the sections that black people had to live during the apartheid. A LOT of people still live there. I had never seen houses like that. I've seen poverty before, but this was a whole new level. For some reason it didn't really pull at my heart strings like it has in the past and it did for other people. I hope I'm not becoming numb to it. Just like I think it's important to notice and enjoy the simple/little things in life, I think it's important not to become numb to the suffering in the world. Maybe that's what the difference was - there wasn't visible suffering. Everyone seemed . . . fine. I know that technically they're not "fine," and they need better houses, water, education, food, jobs, and on and on. But at a glance (which is all we had time for), the major problems besides housing are not as apparent.

Or maybe I'm numb.

Something to be on the notice for. Definitely.

After the township visit, I literally ran to my room, changed, and was back on the bus in a matter of minutes to go to the Opera. The served us delicious hors d'oeuvres and wine. I opted for orange juice and then sparkling apple cider, which is supposed to be really good but I like Marteneli's better. Then into the theater. The performance was entertaining, but it didn't blow me away. The acting/dancing/costumes could easily be beat by a SHS performance. The singing was impressive. The story line was ridiculously hard to follow, and everyone left going "what the heck just happened?" Something about a girl wanting to marry a guy, but he's low class so she can't. BUT then it turns out her love and her father were switched at birth, so she's actually low class and he's high class, so now it's okay. BUT that means that her dad and her love are the same age. AND the person who switched them ended up marrying the dad. AND the girl was originally supposed to marry this guy that looked old enough to be her grandpa who ended up marrying a lady that we all thought was already his wife. Confusing, but entertaining none the less.

Okay, sleep for me.

Night all.

Love you.

South African Sunrise

Woke up BEFORE the crack of dawn to see the sunrise this morning. Amazing.
The rays reached from behind the mountains like the sun was stretching as it woke up.
The city is beautiful, Table Mountain is magnificent, and the water is so blue.
Seals played by our boat as we neared the port.
Two hours 'till the ship is clear,
then I'm off.