A few things to note about Japan...

Kyoto, Japan

I have heard that Japan is the most culturally different country from the United States. Whether this is true or not is up for debate. Several things were alarmingly more wonderful and efficient compared to the United States and some things were...well…different.

A few things to note:

The subway:  I never would have thought that riding an escalator in one of the world’s busiest subway stations would have been an enjoyable experience, but I was pleasantly surprised. In Tokyo, there was an unwritten rule that you kept to the left on the escalator if you wanted to ride up and to the right if you wanted to walk up. Thinking we had the system down, we were a little surprised when they switched things up in Kobe and kept to the right to ride up and went to the left to walk up. (I later found out this has somewhat of a historical context, related to folks in one half of the country who were warriors kept their swords on one side vs. the other half of the country where folks were merchants and kept their money pouches on the opposite side. Mystery solved.) As if the journey to and from the actual subway car wasn’t exciting enough, imagine entering the train single file in a nice orderly fashion after those wishing to exit were able to do so. In New York, I became accustomed to getting trampled each and every time I wanted to get on or off the subway. It’s everything I love about New York only more polite.

Trash Cans: Or lack there of. Japan is one of the cleanest places I have ever been. And to be honest I have no idea how they do it despite their lack of trash cans. My first day there, I went on more than one wild goose chase in order to deposit my trash in the proper receptacle. I later found out that years ago there was a bombing in one of the subway stations where the bomb itself was placed in a trash can, hence the lack of trash cans. Moral of the story: If you visit Japan, prepare to pack it in and pack it out.

Surgical Masks: When they had these scares about SARS and Avian Bird Flu all over the news several years ago, they showed hoards of Japanese people wearing paper surgical masks. Then every time I saw someone in New York with a surgical mask, I was secretly hoping they didn’t know something that I didn’t and that some pandemic wasn’t on its way. So now I’d like to dispel the rumor that everyone who wears a surgical mask has some type of horrible disease. Most wear them because of allergies. With the amount of Kleenexes I go through on a weekly basis, the surgical masks aren’t such a bad idea.

Sit and Eat: It’s a nice idea, sitting and eating. As Americans it’s not always something we take the time to do. We have become a nation of drive throughs and take out menus. In Japan, while there are an over abundance of convenience stores with a wide variety of instant ramen to tempt your taste buds, there are very few public places to sit and eat it. (Squatting on the floor in a train station to finish off your lunch is also frowned upon in case you were wondering.) So plan ahead, sit, relax, and enjoy. 

Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes

Hiroshima, Japan

One of my goals in visiting Vietnam was to learn about the war from their perspective and after hearing the story of Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes, I felt it was equally important to learn about World War II from the Japanese perspective. One of the Resident Directors, along with the ship’s librarian, proposed that we as a shipboard community make 1000 paper cranes in honor of Sadako and her mission of peace. For those of you unfamiliar with Sadako’s story, Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes is the true story is of a girl, Sadako Sasaki, who lived in Hiroshima at the time of the atomic bombing by the United States. She developed leukemia from the radiation and spent her time in a nursing home creating origami cranes in hope of making a thousand of them. She was inspired to do so by the Japanese legend that says that one who created a thousand origami cranes would then be granted a wish. Her wish was simply to live. However, she managed to fold only 644 cranes before she became too weak to fold any more, and died on 25th of October 1955. Her friends and family helped finish her dream by folding the rest of the cranes, which were buried with Sadako. I hadn’t heard of the story until shortly before we arrived in Japan, but after learning how to fold a paper crane (it only took me 45 minutes on my first try) and hearing the story, I felt compelled to just keep folding. My two dear friends and I went to Hiroshima during our time in Japan to learn more about the atomic bombing of Hiroshima and to help these cranes find their way home. The Hiroshima Museum was incredibly impactful and something I think every American should see if they are in Japan. There were times when it was hard to look, but even at times that I turned away from images I didn’t want to see, I consciously reminded myself that it was incredibly important for me to see these things, no matter how difficult it was. This is as much a part of my history as an American as it is of the people of Japan. After visiting the museum, we visited the Children’s Peace Memorial where we dropped off the cranes. There were over a dozen glass cases housing cranes that had been brought to Hiroshima from classrooms, church groups, families, and individuals from all over the world. Many of them had notes in other languages, no doubt wishing for world peace much as Sadako had done 60 years before. We hung the cranes that our shipboard community had made, somehow trying to take in everything we’d seen that day. Although, we didn’t quite reach 1000, we estimate that we folded over 600, one for every student on board.

In making our way back to the train station, winding through the city, I couldn’t help but be surprised that Hiroshima was as big as it is. I expected it to be this shell of a city, centered around the memorial, with only tales of its horrific past to offer to the outside world. But I was wrong. It is a large city, bustling with school children, families, and the goings on of everyday life, just like I’d seen in other Japanese cities I’d visited thus far. I was actually very pleasantly surprised to learn this about Hiroshima. In a way, it reminded me of New York City and the area surrounding the World Trade Center site. They built a space where members of their community and people from all over the world can come reflect, remember, and learn about the past. Even though time stopped on that tragic day, they rebuilt and are now stronger than before. This horrific thing happened here, but it doesn’t define them as a community.

I think I'm turning Japanese I really think so

Yokohama, Japan

Getting to Japan proved to be quite the adventure. The past couple of days had been pretty rocky then about 24 hours before we were scheduled to arrive, it was as if we’d interrupted Ursula and King Triton in the midst of the ultimate battle royale. The skies opened up and the ocean was as angry as I’d ever seen it. It was like we were smack dab in the middle of an episode ofm Storm Stories on the Weather Channel. When the ship would come back down to sea level after being sent airborne by a giant wave, a thunderous boom would sound throughout the ship, sending young children were ricocheting off the walls like pin balls and catapulting students out of their seats which made for an interesting class day I’m sure. It was really quite terrifying. I thank my lucky stars that our portholes on the second deck were closed. I was hoping when they opened then, I would find a cute little octopus stuck to the window to commemorate the occasion, but no such luck. So needless to say, when we woke up alive, we were excited to see land.

The day started with a view of the Yokohama skyline with Mount Fuji looming in the background. And in true Japanese fashion, we received quite the fanfare for our welcome, complete with a marching band and a color guard. Apparently this is common for ships docking in Japan. I hate to break it to the students, but most of the people in these ports will barely notice that we’re there let alone roll out the red carpet for our arrival. Way to set the bar too high, Japan.

The perfect storm severed our internet and our connection to the outside world, so I wasn’t able to solidify plans with the wonderful folks I know in Japan. I attempted to find internet about every 50 feet upon arriving in order to touch base with them, but who knew in a country so enamored with technology that it would be next to impossible to find wifi? And that everyone I know with an international cell phone doesn’t actually know how to use it?

So with the last minute change of plans, I headed to Tokyo Disneyland with my dear friend Christine, who is perhaps the biggest Disney fanatic I know. It proved to be quite the cultural case study. I could count on one hand the number of white people I saw in the park, including all of the Disney princesses. I found it odd that the main characters were all white, but the-shall we say-backup dancers were all Japanese. It was also quite interesting to see the effects of Disney mania on Japanese culture and vice versa. It was distinctly Disney, but with a Japanese flavor all its own.

Another something worth mentioning is Toto. No, not the little dog too from Kansas, the fancy ass toilets they have in Japan. Christine was actually the one to introduce me to Toto at her home in Southern California, but Toto and I had another run in at our hotel in Tokyo. I was finishing my business and enjoying the heated seat (we could all use one of these in the middle of the night during a Midwest winter, let me tell you), when it came time to flush. Simple enough, right? Wrong. I hit a button that looked like water flow. Well that picture wasn’t to indicate water flushing, it was to indicate water coming towards your bum to fashion as a bidet. It was all well and good, until the tube jutted up and out of the toilet bowl, proceeding to spray the entire water closet with water. By this time, I was up and off the heated seat, frantically pushing buttons to get it to stop, yelling for Christine to come and help. (Anytime someone yells for help from the bathroom, that’s never a good thing.) Luckily, I somehow happened upon the magic button that made it stop, but by this point the bathroom was soaked and Christine was in stitches, laughing away at my misfortune. I feel like everyone has at least one good Toto story upon first visiting Japan and there’s mine. Hope you enjoyed it. 

“You know the only other things guaranteed besides death and taxes? Pasta, pork, and potatoes.” –Student, on the cuisine aboard the MV Explorer

“On a scale from one to not fun, this is not fun.” –Student, on filling out immigration paperwork for 12 countries simultaneously

Back to the Future

We are crossing the International Date Line today, so for all intents and purposes January 21 doesn’t exist aboard the MV Explorer. Someone pointed out that our little ship can now rival the Delorean since we are now able to time travel in our own right, going back to the future sans Marty McFly. It is only through the magic of the internet that I can date this post January 21 and write to you from a parallel universe, from a day that doesn’t exist. 

Apples and Oranges

Comparison. It’s natural when you have been around the block before, even a block as incredible and as vastly blue as this one. As much as I try to eradicate, “Well on my last voyage…” from my vocabulary, I find it creeping into my thought process every so often. Repeat voyagers all say the same thing: You have to treat each voyage as its own experience. Comparing them will get you nowhere. Turns out, this is great advice. Even on the same ship with a handful of familiar faces, I owe it to this experience to let it stand alone and not to ride on the coat tails of its predecessor, summer 2010.

I don’t want to make it seem like I’m not grateful because I am. I’m extremely grateful for this opportunity and the people I’ve met and the places I’ve yet to see. Although it has been a bit more logistically challenging (having folks bend over backwards to help you uproot your life in Alaska and spend the next three months on a ship with 6 weeks notice did have its perks), but I think at the end of the day, the logistical challenges and empty wallet will be well worth it.

“The motto of the day is: Be happy, don’t throw up.” –Assistant Executive Dean

Aloha, Hawaii

Hilo, Hawaii

This morning started off with Loco Moco for breakfast, a concoction comprised of rice, a beef patty topped with mushroom and gravy, topped off with two eggs. While I’m not much for hamburgers sautéed with mushrooms for my first meal of the day, it proved to be a cultural experience. Then we spent time walking around the famous Hilo Farmers Market where I learned more about Hawaiian produce than I ever thought possible. I’m hoping that all of those fun pearls of wisdom that Katie left me with will someday win me big money on Jeopardy. J We also started off the day with ice cream from a local shop downtown that was closed the night before. If you’ve never had Kona coffee ice cream for a mid-morning snack, you haven’t lived. If there would have been a way to smuggle it back on the ship, I would have. We then spent the remainder of the day touring the various beaches around Hilo, including the closest black sand beach. This beach had literally 30 feet of honest to goodness black sand. It wasn’t quite as glamorous as I’d seen in postcards, but it was still pretty cool to see sand that was once lava. For lunch, we ate our leftovers from the night before (I got pineapple friend rice that actually came in a pineapple!) and had more ice cream. Dragonfruit sorbet anyone? Delish. We then spent a couple hours perusing the shops downtown before parting ways. It was incredibly wonderful to see an old friend and spend some time exploring a new place together.

After getting back on the ship, we watched the US fade from view for the last time before setting sail for Japan. (Well actually we had to stop in Honolulu first to refuel, but we couldn’t get off the ship, so really it was just a tease.) After dinner, I hosted my very first post-port reflection, a time for all members of the shipboard community to come share their thoughts about the port. I think the dialogue went well and some interesting ideas were brought to the table. Of course after AmeriCorps and living and breathing service learning for the past two years, I am always on the lookout for what I can do better and how I can make reflection an integral part of this experience for everyone involved. I think spending the time to reflect for myself will help. For now, the goal is to learn as much as I can while I’m here. 

“For those of you from Nebraska, visiting the beach can be a cultural experience.” -Executive Dean

Hilo, Hawaii

The day started with my morning coffee on deck 7 watching as the big island of Hawaii came into view. All in all, a pretty great way to start the day. As we filed through customs, I also got a rather enthusiastic high five from the Archbishop Desmond Tutu, who is sailing with us to South Africa. Upon disembarking, my dear friend Katie Curtiss from my second year in NCCC met me at the port in a much coveted rental car and we set off on our grand adventure in Hilo.

I find Hawaii to be a remarkable place. American, but with a distinct flavor all its own. I feel very fortunate that Katie, who has been living and working in Oahu for the past several months, knows just about everything there is to know about Hawaiian culture and customs, despite her status as a native Texan. Our first stop was Hawai’i Volcanoes National Park. We had this grand idea that we’d see lava overflowing. We found that there were two things wrong with that assumption: 1. They’re not dumb enough to let tourists get close enough to anything that could literally melt their faces off. 2. It was super foggy and rainy so there wasn’t much to see anyway. It was cool to climb over mountains of lava rocks throughout some of the area damaged by lava flow not too long ago. Fun fact: it’s illegal to take lava rocks from the park or even from the island itself. In Hawaii, everything has a spirit and by stealing the lava rock, you then steal the spirit which can then result in some pretty bad juju. And if there’s any juju I don’t want, it’s bad juju from a goddess who deals in volcanoes.  

Anything is Possible

I woke up in a weird mood today. My mind races with all the shoulda, woulda, couldas that might have been had I not put real life on hold and signed on for this crazy adventure again. My mind fast forwarded to Baltimore –to  a school I’d never been to filled with students I’d never met. Should I have put those kids on hold for a year while I pursued my own crazy dreams? A part of me feels guilty about that, that I should have stuck to my teaching commitment and been half way through my first year of teaching instead of on a ship on the way to Hawaii. But later that day I had this moment where I thought, “Anything is possible.” Those are great moments, when you realize that anything is in fact possible. We’re told that as kids and for the most part, the general consensus is that anything is possible, but to actively feel it coursing through your veins is pretty incredible. So the plan moving forward is to see how I can use this experience to better serve those students I’ve never met in a classroom I’ve never been to this fall in New Orleans. 

“The sea was angry that day, my friends, like an old man trying to send back soup in a deli.”

Since we last spoke, quite a lot has happened. Staff and faculty had a quick day and a half of training on the ship before 623 excited, over packed undergrads joined our happy little ship family on Wednesday. Imagine over 1000 people playing “Sardines” on a relatively small cruise ship and you can get an idea of the situation we’re in.

We set sail from Ensenada, Mexico Wednesday night, heading west towards Hawaii. I kind of want to put one of those signs on the back of the ship that says “Hilo or bust!” like you do on a long road trip.

Since then, the motion of the ocean has been non-stop. Imagine going through your first few days of college, feeling like you’re constantly failing a sobriety test, unable to control your ability to walk in a straight line. In addition to textbooks, pens, and notebooks, students also added motion sickness bags to their school supply list, like the ones located in the seat pocket in front of you on an airplane. Reminds me of that quote from Seinfeld, “The sea was angry that day my friends, like an old man trying to send back soup in a deli.” That George Constanza was a wise man. Days like this it makes me wish Semester on a Plane was a real thing.

And So It Begins...

So here’s how the journey of a lifetime began…

Approximately 4:42am

My Dad (after helping me load my luggage into the car and almost herniating a disk in the process): I think I’m going to come in with you and make sure you get your bags checked in ok.

Me: Are you implying that I might be over the weight limit?

Dad: Er, um… 

Approximately 5:09am

Gate Agent: Ma’am your bag weighs 54 pounds…

But jokes on them, the extra carryon I shoved those extra four pounds into was checked at the gate. J

It was also pretty adorable that my dad helped me check in then walked me up to the security checkpoint and stood there and waited until I made it through security, much like he had done when I left the country for the first time 15 years ago. J Dads can be pretty adorable sometimes.

After making it onto the plane (and feeling pretty satisfied with myself, I might add, for cheating the system a bit), the guy next to me pulls out a Crown Royal bag. (Sir, you do know this flight is going to Utah?) But alas, the bag was only to hold his approved electronic devices so our binge drinking at 6am on the way to Salt Lake would have to wait another day.

The next flight started off relatively uneventful until, as I was making my way to my seat, a tiny Asian man carrying a suitcase twice his size sprinted up the aisle, like a crazed salmon swimming upstream, forcing me into the lap of the nearest passenger seated in the aisle. I’d like to think that she and I bonded a bit over the experience, but I’m sure this is the last we’ll see of each other.

In other news, Kevin and I checked into our hotel. It’s in a classy part of town, right down the street from Les Girls strip club (which I believe is “The Girls” in French).  We then set out to explore Old Town San Diego, which looks much like the “Old Towns” of the rest of the major cities in California then had dinner at the Gas Lamp District before 5pm. If only they offered a senior citizen special, we would have been set.